Qalandiya – youngsters find a way to cross the wall

My heart throbbed at the sight of these lively youngsters seeking livelihood who lowered themselves to the other side of the wall.

On my way in, I met two security guards who just got back from months of reserves duty in the Border Police. They gladly showed me the new patch they had on their uniform, that unites the Israeli and the Druze flags.

We stood and had a profound talk about the rights of minorities in general, and those of the Druze in particular.

Here’s a bit of the lot I heard on the other side of the apartheid wall:

• If a missile falls on Netanyahu’s head and kills him this will be good for you and for us.
• Ben Gvir mixes you up and fucks up Al Aqsa (Temple Mount) for us.

Acquaintances said that on Saturday night representatives of the Jerusalem municipality raided the vendors who offer their wares to passengers on the road from Ramallah to Jerusalem, and confiscated wares from their owners. “They took goods from me that cost over a thousand shekels”, told me an old acquaintance from Bani Naim. “They were still hanging out here with police and security guards until 11 p.m.”. As if that was not enough, the law people also laid on every one of the robbed vendors a fine of 475 shekels.

With or without connection to these ill-wishers, the young vendors – children and boys – distanced themselves from the disastrous site and congregated about 200 meters away, under a huge advertisement planted in the main roadside from Ramallah, and made up a kind of youth ‘parliament’. Some of them whom I know called out to me. I came. There were both acquaintances and new kids there. Knowledge passed from one to the other that I was photographing and would bring them their pictures the next time we meet. Dina, a 9-year-old who lives in Qalqilia and has almond-shaped eyes came to me hesitatingly and asked me to take her picture. I did. One of the kids whispered something in her ear. She raised her head and asked, Are you Jewish? -Yes, I answered. Are you Jewish? she repeated. And I answered yes once more.

Dina looked amazed, like someone who for the first time in their life had seen a Jew who was not threatening but smiling, touching, speaking to her as a person, a Jew without a gun. When we said goodbye, she handed me a fig.

I couldn't help thinkibg about Moishele.