1st November
Bethlehem.
For the last couple of days, there have been slightly longer than usual waits to get through the checkpoint from Bethlehem to Jerusalem. It normally takes between 2 to 5 minutes to get through but recently it has been around a quarter of an hour. This morning, after waiting for about 15 minutes when I got to the booth to show my passport the teenage girl inside the booth was chatting to someone on the phone, in what seemed a personal call.
This was despite the growing queue on both sides of her station. She definitely wasn’t on the phone in connection with anyone waiting because as she would let someone through, she would chat for a few moments before even looking up to see who next was standing in front of her. After the already lengthened wait, these final few added moments of delay, along with the blatant disrespect needed to simply ignore people in that situation, was insulting to everyone there.
Normally when I show my British passport I am allowed through immediately, often without the guard even looking at it closely, but she decided to stare at it for a moment, before muttering something. She then looked up at me, and repeated herself, but as she hadn’t switched on the microphone I couldn’t even hear what she said, still less that she was speaking in Hebrew. When it became obvious I did not understand she immediately shouted her command this time. Now I could hear her at least, but still she was speaking Hebrew – bear in mind this is after inspecting my British passport. It took one of the Palestinians waiting behind me to politely explain that she wanted to see the entry stamp in my passport. Now knowing what was needed, I showed her the stamp and she let me through.
As I sat on the bus waiting for it to leave towards Jerusalem, I replayed the incident in my mind. Why had she been so short tempered, why had she not spoken English? I felt insulted by her – being shouted at is never pleasant, but in those circumstances it is very uncomfortable. Not only this, but her initial disregard for everyone around her showed that she cared nothing for the people waiting.
Then I thought, how absurd of me to complain of how I was treated - all that happened was some teenage girl shouted at me. Maybe she was having a bad day, perhaps her boyfriend had left her – she was ugly, after all. With my British passport, my passage was never in serious doubt. I now realise that I will never know how it must feel to be in that situation when perhaps you won’t be allowed through, or to be in that situation day after day involuntarily – I am a visitor here through my choice and am able to leave.
Today I witnessed a tiny, insignificant moment that made me realise the significance of dignity, and the dangers of trampling on it.
