Letters from Palestine: A Canadian Comes Home to Hebron

By Jehad Al-Iweiwi

[This is the first in a series of letters from Palestine by Jehad Al-Iweiwi, a founding member of the Muslim Canadian Congress.--Ed.]

I made it to Palestine on Tuesday, May 28 after a brief but painful stay in Jordan. I was held at the airport for five hours and my passport was taken away. I was given a piece of paper and told to go to a certain government agency within 48 hours to get my passport from there.

It was a nightmare.

I arrived on the eve of Jordan's Independence Day holiday. I was nervous that the passport would be delayed. I went after the holiday and was told that my passport did not arrive from the airport yet. I was panicking that I may miss my brothers’ weddings, at least the first one. I came back the following day and was elated that the passport was given to me.

Until now I do not know why my passport was taken from me, no one even asked me what was my name. I guess I should not complain. I took the passport, flagged a cab, and went off to the passport office for renewal. I finished everything in one hour and took the same cab to my sister's house. We collected her and the children and headed to one of the boldest symbols of Palestinian misery, crossing the bridge of the river Jordan.

My friend Linda gave me I Saw Ramallah by Palestinian poet Murid Barghuthi (highly recommended) to read on the way. No other book is more appropriate for someone traveling to Palestine through the bridge. It was a perfect reflection of the experience. Barghuthi recalls his experience crossing the bridge after 30 years in exile.

I must have crossed that dreaded f****g narrow and sorry excuse for a river over a dozen times. I was strip searched during most of them. Not this one. The traffic was unusually light and the wait was typically long, hot and humiliating. The combination of heat and long waiting hours tend to make kids insane.

Crossing the Jordanian side was relatively easy but long. We take the bus and off we go to the jisir, the hated bridge. The Israeli soldiers were everywhere. We go through the metal detector and only my 20-month-old nephew set the detector off. They needed to hand search him and his mother.

I freaked out. I went with them. The soldier started frisking him, and he went mad. I was holding him and said I am sorry habibi to my nephew--somehow, I said that in English. The soldier asked if I speak English. I said a little, and then he said thank you and motioned to the other soldier that the kid is fine. I wanted to say would you ever allow anyone to do this to your kid, but then I was anxious to get out of there, and this would have delayed us for a while. We went to get our papers sorted out, and after a 3-hour wait, we were off to the bus. After we got to the station, we took a Ford. (Remember Ford Transit? Its very true, some hilarious passengers.)

We changed cars three times before we got to Khalil (Hebron). We left Amman 10:30 AM; we arrived at Khalil around 10 in the evening--we were lucky it took only 12 hours. The journey should take 2 hours max. With trenches and giant concrete blocks blocking every city, travel is a nightmare in Palestine.

Seeing the family at the end of it was just what we needed. It was beautiful to see everyone, and we were fed a serious meal “warak dawali,” the divine stuffed vine leaves. Then it was the two weddings--one on Thursday and the other on Friday--both were fabulous and the brides and grooms were stunningly attractive.

More on the weddings in my next letter.

The situation here is difficult. People cannot travel within the city, but they are hopeful and maintain their defiance and resilience. Each time I come to visit the family, I marvel at the Palestinians’ ability to find ways to go on despite the unimaginable horror that all of them go through as a result of the occupation and collective punishment. It's wonderful to see the family, attend two brothers' weddings, and be in Palestine all at once.

It’s wonderful to be here and experience the people' spirit of hope and defiance.

Until the next time,

Love from Palestine.

Jehad.