A Morning in Jerusalem
Huda Abu Arqoub, Jerusalem Women Speak, 16 April 2007
Jerusalem is a city that current political negotiations play with; it is always stuck on virtual maps in conference rooms, and abused by different political leaders. For me, Jerusalem is a reality I cannot reach or grasp.
Today, the uninterrupted funded excavations near Al-Aqsa mosque manage to ruin every peace agreement, and stir a lot of anger in Palestine and other Arab and Muslim countries.
There is something about Jerusalem that seems to constantly draw me in. Apart from it being my birth city, it is also a destination I desire to reach every Friday to pray.
In my country, praying in the Dome of the Rock ceased to be a weekly tradition. The Israeli occupation has transformed it into an endeavor that requires hours of standing in an endless line, in an attempt to acquire a permission to enter the city. An endeavor I refuse to take, because it’s simply my right to visit Jerusalem whenever I want.
It is Friday today, and I need to reach the American Consulate in East Jerusalem for my visa interview. After going to the District Co-ordination Office (DCO) in Hebron for three consecutive days, I got my permission to go to Jerusalem.
My journey started in a big yellow plated-Israeli van — that only settlers and holders of the Jerusalem ID have — with an elderly men and a women, a couple of children, and two young men.
Before getting in the car, the driver made sure that we all had permissions, because otherwise he would be fined and put in jail for months, for transporting Palestinians illegally into Israel.
Laws change on daily bases in this part of the world; you can never follow up with them. I wasn’t too surprised when the passengers in the car informed me that the Israeli army imposed a new closure.
Surprisingly, the driver asked me to sit in the front, a request that I didn’t quite understand. When I inquired, he shamefully whispered that since I’m not veiled, there is a possibility the Israeli soldiers on the checkpoint might mistake me for a tourist and therefore, won’t stop the car.
After 30 minutes of absolute panic, we reached Jerusalem; it felt like an unexpected victory.
Jerusalem has a charm that touches the hearts, the minute I started walking in the streets of the old city I couldn’t help but cry.
Through history, Jerusalem has been open to every one even in times of war, now, it couldn’t be more segregated.
The last time I walked hastily in Jerusalem was last year, when I sneaked in to renew my visa. At that time, I couldn’t obtain permission and my only alternative was to sneak in.
Sneaking in is a whole different endeavor. Before the segregation Wall was built, some Palestinians used to risk getting arrested, and climb several hills to avoid the checkpoint that was constructed on the way to Jerusalem. After the Wall, the only way to enter became through an unfinished gap.
I was almost shot when I tried to walk through the gap. A soldier spotted me and screamed at me to stop. I froze. My heart was pounding out of my chest as he pointed his gun in my direction.
“Where are you going you bitch, you scumbag, do you want me to make a Jew happy today (referring to a bumper sticker settlers post on their cars,” kill a Palestinian and make a Jew happy or kill an Arab and make me happy), ha? Ha?” He said in a thick Hebrew accent.
“I’m here to go to the American consulate,” I said in English. He looked utterly confused and called his colleague who spoke English. Their tones and treatment automatically shifted, they suddenly had a new found respect for me. My knowledge of English and the Virginia Driver’s license I owned saved me.
I always wonder about those two incidents, and the tens of others that define my being as a Palestinian. The fact that my American document was enough for those soldiers to treat me like a human being continues to baffle me.
Although religion remains one of the factors in this conflict; it is mainly all about human needs and human rights.
We, the Palestinians and Israelis need stability and security, we have rights that have been violated, and we both have experienced pain in its worse forms. We are both hurt and traumatized. We are both determined to not let go of our rights. We are both wounded, stubborn fighters.
Unless we heal ourselves, we will not be ready for peace.
Huda Abu Arqoub is a Muslim Palestinian and an Educational Consultant with the Palestinian Ministry of Education. She is traveling throughout Wisconsin this month with two other women, one Christian Palestinian and one Jewish Israeli. For more information see www.partnersforpeace.org.
