Bad Day at the Israel-Jordan Border
"We need to ask you some questions," she said. She took me aside. I was so nervous. She clarified my name and email, then she asked me about my time in Beirut. I told her it was a study program, organized by a translation service.She frowned. "Why do you like Arabs?" I didn't know what to say. Is it a crime in Israel to love Arabs? Is it a crime to study Palestinian art?
"Palestinian art?" she said, "like what?" "Lots of stuff," I said, " Plays,movies, books; everywhere, all over the world."
They then took me to an area where they opened up all my luggage. I couldn't help smiling at the fact that they thought they would find something. It was like living in a spy thriller. They tossed all my things in a pile. "Put your things away," he barked, as if I had taken them out. It was humiliating to have to quietly pack my things again, as if apologizing. They made me read the names of all the medicines in my kit and describe what they were for. "Cramps, you know, like a woman's thing?"
(Via the Angry Arab)
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