La Casa de Laroosh: Jerusalem, Arab Style

A few days ago, I went to Jerusalem. This isn't such a big deal, as I've been to Jerusalem many, many times. This time, however, was different as I experienced the trip from Ramallah to Jerusalem, not as an American tourist, but rather as a typical Palestinian.

Palestinians, as I've previously mentioned have identity papers issued by the Israelis. For those born in the West Bank they have haweeya Diffa; those born in Jerusalem, have haweeya 'Oodsie. In order for those who have the haweeya Diffa to leave the West Bank and enter Jerusalem, they must have special dispensation, or tasreeh, from the Israeli government. This tasreeh is hard to come by, and is most often given on religious holidays: for the Muslims on their holidays and for the Christians on ours. Our friend, Umm Victor, and her family had just got their tasreeh for the day (in honour of some or other Christian holiday, I don't know), so I went along to Jerusalem with them.

Normally, when I travel to Jerusalem, I travel through the Q'alendia checkpoint along with a driver who has haweeya 'Oodsie. We, along with every other car, get stopped by the IDF, and are asked for our haweeyas (or my passport). The car is then searched - sometimes just with quick glance by a young IDF soldier, or sometimes by a thorough examination of the backseat and the boot of a car. No matter though; it is a nuisance, but is otherwise of little consequence.

Traveling through the same checkpoint with Umm Victor and her family was a completely different experience. We entered through the lines for people with tasreeh. We were forced to disembark from our taxi and walk through gated walkways that were built, quite literally, like cages. These cages, made to corrall people were completely enclosed in chain link and had barbed wire on top. At the end of each cage, was a turnstyle door (much like you would find at the Oregon Zoo or Woodland Park Zoo exits). Each one of these turnstyle doors led to yet another cage - 3 in all - before finally arrived at the IDF checkpoint. At the first turn-style, people were swarming outside. It was sweltering hot, and men and women - the elderly and young alike - were pressed up against each other hoping to push their way to the front of the gate. We stood amidst the mob for over 20 minutes before an unseen IDF soldier barked orders in Hebrew over a loud-speaker. Shortly thereafter, the turnstyle was activated and a handful of people were allowed through the first gate. We were not among the lucky ones and were once again left on the wrong side of the turnstyle. This happened a few more times - people pushing, and the IDF barking orders in a language none of us could understand. Finally, we made our way into the second holding area, which was also full of over-heated, frustrated, antsy Arabs. It was awful. Waiting amidst the mob to pass through all of the holding areas, I felt that we were much like cattle headed to slaughter. People around me were saying that we were being herded like sheep, but honestly, I felt that it was much worse. (Anyone see The Simpsons episode where they show the "educational film" in class where they talk about how beef is made and "happy cows"? Well, I felt like one of those so-called happy cows.)

Finally, we made our way to the IDF checkpoint. We had to put our handbags, etc through an x-ray machine much like what you'd see at the airport and then show our haweeyas (or my passport) to the IDF. The IDF were sitting in a (likely) air-conditioned rooms and we were instructed to press our haweeyas against the glass for them to see. The women passed quickly, but the men in the group were electronically fingerprinted to ensure that they truly were who they said they were. If their name appeared on the Arrest Warrant list, no matter how untrue or unjustified, they risked being arrested on the spot. It's scary business and a huge risk. Still, you see literally hundreds of Palestinians every day clamoring to take such a risk just to get to a city that truly belongs to them anyway. It's sad.

Once we made our way to Jerusalem, our trip was quite fabulous. We stopped for a shawarma sandwich, did a bit of shopping, stopped for k'nafeh - an amazing Arab-style dessert (shown below), did some more shopping, visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, prayed at Gogotha (upstairs), and then did some more shopping.

The shopkeeper serving fresh k'nafeh - yummmmm!

Golgotha was AMAZING! I had been there before, twice actually. Once in 2006 for Good Friday prayers and once in 2004 just to visit, but I had no idea just what was there. You can actually put your hand in the hole where it is said that the Cross that Jesus had been nailed on had been driven into the ground. What a powerful experience to reach my hand into that hole and pray! No words can describe the emotion. We all prayed together and then had the honour of lighting a few candles there as well, much to the chagrin of a rather disgrutled Orthodox priest. (I'm sorry that I don't have a picture of him, as he was quite the sight in his long, grey beard, black clerics, and unique hat.) Honestly, I think he was just grumpy because he must have been overheating in such an outfit - it was a sweltering day, even by Palestinian standards.

Here are a few photos of the Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and Golgotha, which is just upstairs:

A typical street full of souqs (shops) in the Old City of Jerusalem.

Victor buying za'atar, ground thyme mixed with other spices. We dip bread first into olive oil and then into the za'atar and eat it for breakfast.
(Mum, I got you some of this.)