Going to the Hospital. Report 5, June 2005.
My friend's aunt
had to get an operation done. I didn't quite understand at first, something
to do with her leg. He was going to visit her in the hospital in Jerusalem,
so when he heard that I wanted to go down as well, he suggested we make the
trip together. Ok, I said.
We started out
the usual way: going through the Qalandia checkpoint. Once to the other side,
I figured we would take a taxi straight to Jerusalem. I was a little mistaken.
We took a taxi to Abu Diss - that neighborhood East of East Jerusalem that Israel
likes to mask to the world as the future Palestinian capital city in Jerusalem
(needless to say it's about as close to Jerusalem as Ramallah is). The taxi
heads East, down the hill towards the Dead Sea, in the opposite direction of
Jerusalem. I can see the Wall snaking all around the landscape, some places
where it is still under construction.
The ride continues
for perhaps another 20 minutes - short by intifada standards. We go through
the neighborhoods of Ayzariya and Abu Diss until we turn a corner and there's
the Wall in front of us. My friend asks the driver to stop at "the door."
I expected a checkpoint. Mistake number two. Of course I ask my friend to pose
by the Wall to take his picture. There's a grafitti of a little kid and a ladder
that goes up all along the wall. I can't fit it in the camera's frame, it's
so damn big. After some posing, my friend walks me up a hill to the door. An
opening of less than a meter wide with barbed wires everywhere. On the other
side a little kid sits playing with an empty Coca Cola bottle. "There's
no one" he says, referring to Israeli soldiers. My friend and I sneak through.
The other side
of the wall (now we're officially in East Jerusalem) is painted with words of
support from various international groups. It reminds me a bit of the difference
between East and West Berlin, and how the West used to be an artistic display
of defiance against segragation. I want to take more pictures. My friend rushes
me as he hears a military nearing. I trust that after growing up here he can
hear the difference in jeeps to know when to hide. We run to catch a bus. This
is still only the first of three more buses we need to catch before we get to
the hospital.
We sit with his
aunt for a little under hour. She's just had her hip bone replaced. She's in
pain. I don't think she'll remember our visit, given the amount of pain medication
she's on. We decide to head back. I realize, much like before during the height
of the Intifada, that our visit last by far less than the actual trip itself.
Three taxis and three buses, two hours and about $5. It's a major improvement
compared to a few years ago.
But there's something
a little different about this trip. It was essentially illegal. My friend holds
a Palestinian ID and is not allowed inside Israel. And yet there's a "door"
in the wall that everyone knows about, from the cab drivers to the soldiers.
I'm convinced the politicians know about it too, whether it be Ariel Sharon
or Mahmoud Abbas... I don't understand, if Israel is trying to keep the Palestinians
out, why allow for doors in the wall? Or is it symbolizing something else: that
no matter what you erect in front of Palestinians, they will still manage to
deal with it?
Posing by the wall.