Everything out here is by comparison. And so -- by comparison -- my day yesterday was easy. The "clooowwwwnns" would certainly agree.
I woke up after a few hours' sleep on a couch in a room with 4 other people. Another 5 women were sleeping in another room, and another 3 men in yet another room. Two small bedrooms and one living room were the home of twelve people. By comparison, we had lots of space, and I slept very well.
After a few hours of discussion, the internationals gathered with a few Palestinians, and we all headed out from Ramallah to Nablus.
"Forget about it. Who needs the hassle?" he replied. An international wondered why we weren't going to Calandia - the usual Ramallah checkpoint. It wasn't to avoid the army. It was to avoid humiliation. In the alternate path, we - along with hundreds of Palestinians - walked right in front of an army jeep. If checkpoints were truly about security (and not humiliation), then somebody from the army would have said something. The only reason for any of us to be there was that we were bypassing the checkpoint.. It was just as well. Nobody had a "tasreeh", papers permitting them to go from one city to another.
A taxi dropped us off at one end of the bypass. We walked over several earthen roadblocks over the span of about one kilometer. Getting out of Ramallah, which should have taken no more than 10 minutes, instead took us close to an hour. Still, we all felt extremely fortunate.
We took a minibus-type thing (service - pronounced ser-vees) from the other side of the earthen roadblocks. The service died several times under the heavy strain of the off-roading and hills. Finally, we got to where we wanted to go: the middle of nowhere.
We were dropped off at the base of a so-called hill. I say "so-called" because even though it really was a hill, it was extremely steep and seemed to spring eternal from base to crest. We spent half an hour just hiking to the top. The exhilaration of getting to the top gave me a boost of energy, and so I almost leaped the last little bit. As I climbed over, I saw a flash of brilliant white teeth attached to a beaming smile. Under the smile was a chin-strap which led to a helmet.
"Over there!" The gun was merely an extension of the soldier's arm. The barrel pointed where several Palestinian labourers were sitting. One by one, we were sent to sit with the other detainees. I had actually prayed for this.
About halfway up the hill, sweat was pouring from every part of my body. I was thoroughly soaked. That was me, a man who prides himself on his stamina. I was doing great by comparison. Some of the others around me were not doing nearly so well. I remember looking at the face of one of my companions. Her eyes were bloodshot. Behind the film of tears welling up in her eyes, all I could see was the determination to make it to the top. We both knew that this hill was just the beginning. After it, there would be at least another hour of hiking around the hills. At that moment, as our eyes met, I prayed that we would be stopped by soldiers at the top so that all of this would end.
God heard me.
"We like walking. The scenery is beautiful." So we responded, still out of breath, when asked why we were there. It was obscene, but if we were to get through, this was what we had to do. It didn't work. After everything, the soldiers absolutely would not let us pass. Mercifully, they let us and the detained Palestinian labourers go after only about half an hour.
Light had almost gone, and we still had to get into Nablus. After all of this, we decided to go for the Huwarra checkpoint and try our luck. A few of the labourers -- having no money and nowhere to stay -- asked if they could come with us. We all huddled and decided on a story: We were carnies going from town to town. It was as good a story as any other. We explained it to the soldiers once we got to the checkpoint. I was a unicycle-riding juggler. The other negotiator was the go-to man ("yeah, yeah.. Just like Barnum!"). As we were being checked, we noticed that another four people who we hadn't seen before. So did the soldiers.
"Ta'al hone" ordered one of the soldiers (come here in Arabic). The other negotiator went to the soldier and was obviously being interrogated about the four new guys. They're CLOWNS, I heard him say. I walked over.
The battle began. What's the problem? Do you know these guys? Who, the clowns? yeah.. OMAAAAAARR! Ta'al ih'ki ma'il rajul (Omar, come talk to the man!). Omar sauntered over [note: all names have been altered to protect the "clowns"].
Just before walking over, I quietly asked the four their names. Each whispered his name as I walked by. I am absolutely horrible at names, and yet I knew - like they - that much depended on me remembering them. Still, I was surprised that I remembered the name. So was the soldier.
Oh! You know his name? They're like brothers to me! Oh yeah? Call the rest of them over This one is Ahmad, this one is Mohammed, and this one is Mahmoud.
He checked their IDs. He couldn't believe I knew their names. Neither could I. Still, the soldier recognized them from earlier in the day, and would not let them pass..
"The clooowwwwnns are not clowns, are they? Don't lie to me!" He made the quotations-in-the-air as he said clowns. He told us earlier that he watched Austin Powers yesterday, and that as such he would always make the quotations-in-the-air just like in the movie. Everybody knew they weren't clowns. Earlier in the day, that very soldier had beaten one of them. I guess it's easier to remember somebody you've kicked. Still, we stayed the course, and eventually we were all permitted to pass.
"Tell the clooowwwwnns that if I see them again, I'm going to be upset, and I don't like being upset". His seriousness was only momentarily challenged by the quotations-in-the-air.
We walked for another hour amid sporadic heavy and light machine gun fire, and finally we got home.
It's not that it was easy. Just that it wasn't so bad by comparison.
tarek : )