Fuck it, I’m going.
After accepting the fact I’m going to have to return to Jerusalem, and thereby sign up for another body cavity search in 3 weeks I catch a taxi to Bir-Zeit, just outside Ramallah. On the way there the taxi driver serves as a sort of guide, doing his best to explain to me the effect of the Apartheid Wall on the Palestinians who were living here when it was created on their land. 90% of this wall is built on Palestinian territory, often separating children from schools, farmers from their land, and everyone in Palestine from “Israel” the occupying entity.
I grab a couple of photos as we approach the wall, and for a split second I shit kittens as we approach the first checkpoint. For the most part people aren’t checked on the way into the West Bank, only on return. For example, from Jerusalem to Ramallah is now about 17km, and it normally takes about 30-40 minutes. The way back, though the same distance, takes about 2 hours if everything goes well. It’s like they’re saying “sure, fucking leave… just don’t try to come back.”
As we approach Ramallah the cab driver asks me if I’d like to see the tomb of Yasir Arafat. Hell yeah, I would. Flanked on the left by stone carved written by the recently deceased Mahmoud Darwish, the tomb is inside a modest white structure. Two guards stand at attention as I snap a photo. The greyed building behind them is where Arafat holed up for the last 3 years of his life.
I arrive in Bir Zeit without event.
