November 19, 2003

Back in Bethlehem

[Bethlehem, West Bank] Flights from Tel Aviv are often at odd hours, and I ended up leaving Bethlehem at 2:30am. Checkpoint situations in the dead of night are usually not great experiences, and this was no exception. My taxi driver, Gabby, wouldn't take me near the checkpoint for fear of getting in trouble, but I guess he took me a little too far. As I exited the car, soldiers suddenly appeared out of the olive grove to surround us. There were a lot of clicking sounds and soldiers pointing their guns. A soldier stood five feet from me aiming his rifle at my head. Exasperated, I told him not to shoot me. Staring down the barrel of a gun never gives me the warm fuzzies, but this time felt especially bad. It was dark and hard to see, and I was carrying bags. I complied with each order, but the guy never dropped his gun from aiming between my eyes. They took Gabby's keys and asked me to open my bags. I showed them that I didn't have dangerous material, but I did have a few beautiful traditional Palestinian dresses created by the wife of Abu Shaddy. They sent me on my way and decided to focus on Gabby. I called him a few minutes later, and he said they did not detain him long -- just typical stuff.

I thought the soldiers had overreacted to my checkpoint visit, but perhaps not. As I approached the checkpoint this morning to return to Bethlehem an old woman with a lot of sheep told me to go back. I couldn't figure out exactly what she wanted me to do (chase sheep?), so I continued ahead. Then I saw a lot of military vehicles and soldiers picking up Palestinians trying to bypass the checkpoint. Often these folks are allowed to continue into Jerusalem, but not today. The soldiers told me that Bethlehem was closed, because two soldiers were killed at another Bethlehem checkpoint yesterday. They told me to go. Where was I supposed to go? I was carrying three bags, and my house is in Bethlehem. I was tired from the long trip back -- made longer by President Bush's Air Force One visit to Heathrow Airport in London, and a heck of a long van ride through Jerusalem this morning. (My Tel Aviv airport experience was unexpectedly pleasant and brief -- my answers were "yes, I live in Bethlehem," "I work for the church, and they assigned me to this location," "I have lived here almost three years," "my father had surgery," "I teach Palestinians," and "No, I'm not afraid of living in Bethlehem.")

Often when a soldier tells me to go back, I can usually talk my way in. Sometimes I can't, and I end up walking through a field or trying another checkpoint. The field option appeared to be out, and I was carrying those darn bags anyway. Then next checkpoint was the one where the soldiers were shot, so that didn't seem to be a good idea. I'm pretty sure that one was closed.

A (perhaps) journalist was talking loudly on her mobile phone announcing to everyone that Bethlehem was closed. I approached the checkpoint again, and a soldier yelled at me to keep away and drop my bags. I yelled to the soldiers about being allowed to return to my house, and they asked me to wait. So I waited, and they talked to their supervisors. I had to open my bag and hold the contents up for them to see. I held a non-explosive flute and a few books. Then they came over and inspected my bags -- socks from the Dollar Store, bag of eyeshades and toothpaste from a complimentary British Airlines flight bag, CDs. Then they asked me to push this stuff through the metal detector. It went off with every push through, but eventually they allowed me to go in anyway.

The soldiers told me that now that I was in Bethlehem I would not be allowed to leave. I guess I'm here for a while. I don't really need anything from Jerusalem anyway. Still, I like the idea of being able to leave if I wanted or needed to. But now I'm back and getting geared up for another holiday season in Bethlehem. Last year we were under military curfew except for a few hours Christmas day. This year should be different. I'll keep you posted.