One Last Trip to the Other Side

I went to Bethlehem yesterday to visit Emily, who is interning there for a few months. It was great to see her and it was great to be in a different part of the country (it reminded me a bit of Jordan). The whole experience in getting there and leaving was quite unsettling. I knew about everything that was going to happen, but experiencing it first-hand is different. It put into stark relief the reality that Palestinians face and the privilege that I possess.

Even the bus ride to the checkpoint is telling. It isn't an Egged bus (the national bus company) that transports Palestinians, they have their own company, and the buses are in much worse condition. They are actually much closer to the buses I remember from Jordan - more like big vans with manual transmissions that were probably built in the 1970s or 80s. It was kind of fun to ride them, but it makes it so painfully obvious that Palestinians are on a different level in Israeli society.

I got to the checkpoint at around 4pm, which is about the time everyone is coming home, so there were at least 100 people in line. As I was getting off the bus, the driver told me not to wait in line, but to go straight through in front of everyone. I was a little taken aback at first, but who I am kidding, I know that foreigners have a much easier time at the checkpoints. This was just confirmed as I pushed my way up. People just moved out of the way for me, I mean it's Israel, I had to push, but nobody tried to stop me from cutting in line. Then I got to the window where a couple of Palestinians were in front of me. When the guard realized I was American, he rushed me to a different window, looked at my passport for about 2 seconds and let me pass. It was very unsettling. I think I felt uncomfortable because a) I completely took advantage of my privilege, b) I felt humiliated for all of the people in line and have tried to imagine what life must be like to walk through that checkpoint daily and face the same dehumanizing reality, c) the checkpoint itself is a very institutionalized, sterile-looking building that is very unwelcoming, and d) walking out through it you are greeted with a huge 8 meter high separation barrier. Welcome to Bethlehem.

It is clear driving through Bethlehem that the economic situation is so different than that of Israel. Emily and I agreed that there is a certain charm to the 25 year-old cars, the construction of the buildings, the leftover Christmas decorations. But it is unsettling to know that less than 5 miles away, literally on the other side of the wall, is a more prosperous and developed, economically sound country. And while the occupation isn't the only reason for the difference, it is certainly a significant factor.

Going back through the checkpoint was also uncomfortable, but mostly because it felt deserted and I wasn't really sure what I was doing. In no-man's land, between exiting Bethlehem and entering the building to get to Israel, I saw someone being transferred from one ambulance to another. One of the Palestinians told us a story about how her grandfather was very ill and had to be taken to a hospital in Jerusalem from the West Bank. It was a huge ordeal and a traumatic experience for the family. Instead of getting straight to the hospital, her grandfather had to be taken out of one ambulance at the checkpoint, id checked, and then moved to the next ambulance to be taken, finally, to the hospital. Seeing this pair of ambulances made that story very real to me. The biggest difference was that I was the only onlooker because it was happening late at night, whereas during the day, the humiliation was seen by many.

So, I'm really glad that I went to Bethlehem to see Emily, who seems so happy to be there. But it brought up a lot of issues that were prevalent for me at the Machon that I've sort of pushed to the back of my mind recently. I've been immersed in a Jewish community for the past couple of weeks in which it is fairly simple to avoid dealing with such issues. It was a good wake up call for me. I will need to make an effort to continue struggling with these issues when I return to the States. I realize that being 7,000 miles away will change the nature of the conversation and how I engage in it, but it is imperative to do so.