Interrogated.
Interrogation:
I arrive at the airport in Barcelona, after packing my bags for a stay in Israel and Occupied Palestine. I was prepared for some sort of interrogation in Israel, but what I never suspected was that the in-Terror-gation would start before I even arrived. Much like Jewish cemeteries in whatever part of the world, the checkin for Al El airlines was separated by tensabarrier from the rest of the airline checkins.
I approached the barrier, and was “greeted” by an official from El Al. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him I had a flight to Tel Aviv in 2 hours time. Immediately he began asking me what it was I intended to do in Israel. I told him I’d planned on visiting Jerusalem, to study Hebrew and get to know the religious sites there. Needless to say I was immediately escorted to a small, dirty room behind the public area of the airport. Several members from the Israeli Defense Force were waiting there and I was immediately subjected to a one and a half hour interrogation.
All the bags I’d meticulously packed were searched, and everything I own was taken apart and scrutinized. The room, much like Israel itself, was divided by a barrier. I was given a seat on one side of the barrier, while the sound of Israeli security guards on the other side with all my belongings floated over. Everything I own was scanned and tagged. I clearly heard the sound of my possessions being dropped, mixed with the sound of the confused guards who roughly treated them.
Several times I was asked to demonstrate how things such as my camera, phone, or my computer worked. Finally I was invited to the other side of the barrier, only to find the bags I’d neatly packed the night before in a pile with my things strewn everwhere. Since they kept me so long I was forced to repack everything in order to make the flight in 15 minutes time.
I barely made it on the plane.
One the plane I was seated next to a pretty Israeli girl, who told me about Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. After the flight was over we walked together to the customs, where I explained to her I most likely would be told to stay there. She looked at me incredulously, saying “No… at this point you just pass through. It’s easy.”
Maybe if you have an Israeli passport.
I walk up to the friendliest looking customs official, and after talking to her for a minute she closed her window and escorted me to the immigration office.
Bad Cop:
To describe the man in the immigrations office as a DICK does injustice to dicks everywhere. He began asking me why I was there, where I was going to stay, etc. I explained to him my bags had been taken, and all my itinerary was stored in my laptop. He didn’t believe me. He asked to see my return flight information, and again I replied it was on my computer and I’d be happy to show him if they’d just give me my bags back. He told me that wasn’t his problem, and that when he went to visit my country he had all his things in order. Excuse me for not owning a printer! My email address was written down, after which he asked me for my “other” email address. As if it’s really hard to have more than one email address. My parents names were asked for, my credit cards were scrutinized. Even though I provided this man with many examples of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see he continued yelling at me, and eventually told me to come with him after about 30 minutes of interrogation and insult. Welcome to Israel.
Bad Cop sits me down in the security area. Basically the security area is a semi-jail where all “suspects,” basically people like me and any Arab who attempts to visit are put for interrogation. The first thing I notice is an Arab woman in heated discussion with another guard. After a minute or so she begins to howl, apparently she’s being kicked out. Guilty of being brown. The poor woman had just been on a really long flight, and was being put on the next plane out. She had a ton of luggage, and was attempting to visit her family.
Instead of feeling shame like an ordinary human, instead of showing compassion, Bad Cop walks up to me and says he thinks I’m a terrorist and have come to Israel to create a bomb. I’m speechless for a second, and I try to hold back a laugh. He says to me “You see that woman crying? She’s crying because I made her go talk with security, and since you’re a terrorist that’s where you’re going next.”
Good/Bad Cop:
After waiting with the Palestinians in the security area for another 30 minutes I’m asked to come in and talk to Good/Bad Cop. He prefaces the conversation by telling me if I lie, he’ll know, an immediately put me in jail until the next plane back to Barcelona. I nod, and the interrogation begins. It’s a lot like the other one, and is designed to see if I slip up. He watches my eyes, and is trained to cause fear, and then show compassion an instant later. I can tell he has a problem with me, since my return flight is scheduled for 3 months later. I explain to him that the Israeli ministry of tourism, according to their web site, allows me to stay for 3 months. He says that Israel is small and that I could see the whole place in 2 weeks – why would I want to stay for 3 months if I wasn’t there to do something like work with the ISM. He asks me if I know who the ISM is. I respond affirmative, telling him the ISM had made news when one of their American Volunteers was run over by a bulldozer a number of years back. He continues to question me, asking me how I know that. I told him I read the news, and that’s about it. He keeps my passport after rifling through the belongings I have on me, gets the names of my parents, and finally sends me back to the holding area while he “Verifies the authenticity of my story.” He reminds me again
that if he finds anything at all out of the ordinary he’ll kick me out of the country.
Good Cop:
After sitting in the holding area another 30 minutes a sympathetic acting woman comes out. She assures me it’s OK to tell her why I’m really here, and that if I’m part of a human rights group it’s ok to tell her, she understands. She assures me she’s on my side. I don’t change my story. There’s nothing more to tell, I assure her. A little frustrated at this point I ask her why they don’t share the fact that interrogation is part of entry into Israel on their tourism web site. Maybe they could put it next to the Christian Biblical Tours section. “Who would Jesus interrogate?” maybe. A little confused herself, after awhile she returns to talk with Good/Bad Cop.
30 more minutes pass, after which Pseudo Good Cop returns and grudgingly gives me my passport and a bill of entry. He looks me over once more, and tells me that they know everything that happens in Israel, and that if I don’t do exactly as I said I’d do they’d “come and find me.”
Welcome to Israel.
