Redefining ‘Man-crush’

For readers with a good memory, you may recall that I have little enthusiasm for traveling to Al Quds (Jerusalem). However, yesterday I wanted to meet a friend, R., who was leaving town today, so off I went. What I fully didn’t appreciate was that going to Al Quds on a Friday morning during Ramadan is not really a good idea, because thousands of others also want to go to the Al Aqsa Compound for midday prayers. The Israeli Occupation Forces decided to deal with this swarm of people by erecting barriers and barbwire in front of the checkpoint, and then letting people through to the checkpoint one by one. (When I say checkpoint, at Kalandia you have to picture something more akin to an international border, with turnstiles, security glass and x-ray machines, but no immigration officials). However, another set of barriers were set up in front of these ones so that the Occupation Forces could control the flow of the crowd through to this point. They only let people through sporadically, and I think it was only the presence of some journalists and peace activists that ensured this was happening. Since no one really knew what was going on, everyone just piled forward, causing a moving man, woman and child crush. I say moving, because for every forward surge, there was a reactive surge in the opposite direction as those at the front avoided the barbwire. Eventually I was carried towards the front of the mass, and eventually got through to the ID document checking stage. After having my passport examined by two border policemen and one soldier, all at different barriers (I counted four before you were finally through the checkpoint), and passing soldiers eating lollipops (disrespecting a population who are fasting - who spends time coming up with such petty insults), I was able to get on the bus to Al Quds. I would say I was one of the lucky ones, but of course it wasn’t by luck that I was able to get through with my foreign passport, and seemingly anyone with a green West Bank ID card wasn’t, regardless of whether they had a permission granted by one of the Occupation Bureaucracies or not. I think the whole ordeal, including traffic jams in Al Quds, took around two hours (compared with the hour an hour to forty five minutes it usually takes).

Thankfully, R. knew about the Austrian hostel in the Old City, whose unmarked door was hidden behind a market stall, and I was grateful for the peace of their gardens and the snacks in their café. We made sure to leave the Old City before the end of midday prayers (which last about three hours), but after walking around, ran into the crowds at the bus station anyway. It’s amazing how people think that honking their horns will suddenly solve traffic gridlock. It was therefore even more of a relief than usual to leave Al Quds, and despite another delay at Kalandia and more traffic congestion after, get back to Ramallah. During Ramadan both the services and buses stop running during il iftar (the breaking of the fast), so you to plan your traveling accordingly. I also got a little sun burnt in Al Quds, but that’s par for the course here or anywhere else in the world when the sun comes out. I’ve got my factor 30 on today.