My apologies for taking so long to write. It has been a 8 days since I was at the border trying to enter Israel by way of Aqaba in Jordan. I was quick to announce on Facebook my denial of entry but have not gone into detail about the events of that day.
To be truthful, I was mentally and physically unprepared to be denied entry into Israel, even though I spent weeks worrying and imagining every scenario. As many of you know, I agonized over the details on how to get to Palestine, where I should fly into? how should I enter? what to take with me? every detail didn’t prepare me for Sunday morning.
I arrived at at Yitzhak Rabin border station early in order to catch a 9 am bus from Eilat (Israel) to Jerusalem at approximately 7:30 am. At approximately 2:00 pm I was escorted to what I refer to is ‘no man’s land’ a paved road in a small strip of land between Israel and Jordan. I took some moments here to feel the pavement under my feet, a safe haven from feeling like a criminal in Israel and from the anxiety of entering back into Jordan, a country I had no intent staying in for the next 5 weeks.
I spent that evening lying in a hotel room bed in utter disbelief that I was not going to Palestine that I was back in Aqaba with a picturesque view of a country I cannot set foot in and possibly never will.
I took solace in Facebook that evening communicating with family and friends that I was not going to Palestine for the next 5 weeks. With a splitting headache from stress, dehydration and hunger, every keystroke I typed I relived the 6 hours of detainment and interrogation in my head and the realization set in that everything I feared back in the states about not getting to Palestine came true.
I am still in awe of the tactics used by the Israeli passport patrol, the passivity of it all – that they are only doing their job, the aggression – being told over and over that you are lying, the confusion – being asked the same questions over and over again, the inhumanity – not eating for hours, the exposure – constantly having people go through your personal not having control over any of your belongings as they parade around with your ID’s, passport, wallet, bag, phone and money.
But most of all the test of your spirit – forced to sit through a birthday celebration while one of my many interrogators celebrated her birthday with her colleagues sharing cake and song, holding my passport in one hand and my money in the other. For the first time in my life I felt completely at the will of others, all that I planned, the care of a disabled woman in a refugee camp, the art projects I wanted to make all relied on this one moment. I tried to stay positive I did’t want them to see my suffering I reminded myself over and over again I came all this way to do something good, this cannot be how it all ends. Now, I realize how naive of me to think this way, I am just one of many denied entry because of their association with Arabs.
Funny now that I think back how silly I sounded; “I live in NYC, I know all kinds of people, I know Arabs. In NYC people are from everywhere.” This is what I uttered when they went through my phone and picked out Arab names.
“This person is an Arab, how do you know this person? Why do you have an Arab name in your phone?”
How do you answer these questions?
Many people have asked me why I got denied entry. Everyday I go over this in my head. If only I answered this question better. If only I was more strong and didn’t grow pale with exhaustion. If only I denied knowing Arabs.
My last round of interrogation I was so weary, I felt broken, confused, exhausted and couldn’t bare to answer the same questions again. I was yelled at for not having my bags, I was yelled at for not sitting in the right chair. I was yelled at for touching my passport. I was asked again “how do you know this person she is an Arab?”
I looked both women directly in the eye and said I don’t know her, because I didn’t know her.
“That is all you have to say, you don’t know her. Do you have something to tell us? Do you need to step outside and then come back in and tell us the truth? Why do you lie to us”
“I don’t know what you want me to say I don’t know her.”
I was forced to sign a document that states I cannot enter Israel unless with a visa. My belongings were returned to me minus money that was either taken or lost when my interrogator was parading around with it in her hand.
I have to be honest I gave up, my conviction was gone, I wanted to go home. I felt powerless. I felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt foolish. I give up, you win.
So now I am at the beach, in paradise. Life goes on. Echlas is left to her own devices for care at the refugee camp. I am left at my own devices to take care for the next 5 weeks.
I am lost, I traveled half way across this world for a reason and the State of Israel denied me. The State of Israel denied care to a disabled woman living in a refugee camp. The State of Israel denied documentation of life inside a refugee camp. The State of Israel denied Palestinian artists opportunity for exposure in an artistic journal. The State of Israel is actively denying all people (yes people Americans too) from providing humanitarian services to the West Bank and Gaza.
I am at lost for the right words…. but I am starting to find them.
PROJEKT PALESTINE 