Qalandiya
In the "re-united" city, THERE and HERE are separate. In spite of their being both within the Jerusalem municipal area, the separation is prominent between 'us' and 'them', between places where infrastructures deserve steep investments, and others that do not, between areas where garbage is collected, and others where it is not, between places where rain water is drained, and others where it is not.
What began as a drizzle grew into heavy rain and graduated into rain mixed with hail that fell unceasingly. Within minutes, roads disappeared and were filled with water that rose and flowed, dark gray, dragging with it all sorts of filth.
Pedestrians, forced to get off the road and was alongside it, could not see potholes filled with water nor iron rods stuck in the asphalt. Women, not just one or two, tripped and fell, and had to be helped up by strangers.
A strong sense of survival and improvisation – the Palestinians' forte – proved their worth in these hours as well, as they proceeded acrobat-like on parts of the wall, in plastic bags substituting for rainwear…
On my way back, at the checkpoint, I was detained by the inspecting woman-soldier and the security person standing near her post:
-Why?
-You're a Jew, you are not allowed to be here.
-Where am I not allowed to be?
-In Ramallah.
I have no idea how long I stood there until the soldier who had taken my ID phoned wherever she did, gave me back my ID and I continued on my way, not before recommending the two to refresh their knowledge and check in the maps where Jews are allowed and where they are not.
On my way out, back to where infrastructure and rainwear drainage are a familiar phenomenon, it occurred to me that I don't know how long I would have been detained, and whether a puddle had formed around the spot where I was ordered to wait, but neither this nor that are really important.