Pulled over at Ben Gurion

A Palestinian friend and taxi driver gave me a lift from Bethlehem to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv tonight. We spent the drive catching up on each others' stories. We shared stories of growing up, me in Wisconsin and he in Jerusalem. We talked about faith, politics, schooling, friendships, girls, his fiance and my wife, his longing for a big family and my desire for a smaller one than he. While we talked, his fiance called. Like I've learned that Israeli's and Palestinians do when something is wrong, Anas clucked his tongue twice: with a sheepish grin he said, "She's mad at me tonight!"

A five minute argument ensued and then settled.

"Everything alright?" I asked with a grin?

"It will be, Inshallah (God willing)."

About that time, we passed the first sign for Ben Gurion Airport and Anas noticeably tightened up a bit...and the stories changed.

Now, rather than boyhood memories, longings for justice, and yearnings for the married life, he told of the last time he had come to Ben Gurion.

His girlfriend had been with him and they were picking up a client who had specifically requested Anas to be his driver. As they approached the check point, an Israeli soldier took a liking to Anas' girlfriend and began making advances at her. Naturally, Anas got a bit defensive and told the soldier to simply check her identity and let them pass. His mistake was that he "told" the soldier what to do. Things intensified quickly until the soldier, at gun point, commanded Anas to get out of the vehicle. Anas pushed the door open into the chest of the soldier who retaliated with a push. Anas responded by punching the soldier in the face.

It wasn't the correct response...Anas paid for it with 3 months in prison.

We were close to the check point at this time.

"I've picked you up in Jerusalem...NOT in Bethlehem. Jer, this is very important that you understand this."

To the check point we arrived. In perfect Hebrew, Anas greeted the soldier who asked to see his I.D. Discovering that he was Palestinian, he told us to pull off to the right shoulder. For 20 minutes, I stood with Anas as he smoked cigarette after cigarette. Simultaneously, I watched as car after car was allowed to pass through the check point without a second look...these cars were not driven by Palestinians. For every four cars the flew by us, one was pulled to the right to join a growing number of Palestinian drivers and foreign passengers: the drivers all smoked and paced while the foreign passengers either remained in their cars or shuffled their feet nervously.

At last, a soldier made his way to Anas and I.

"Jerusalem. Leonardo." responded Anas to what I assumed to be a question regarding our origin.

My turn.

"Passport! What's your name?"

"Jeremy."

"Why did you come to Israel?!"

"To walk where Jesus walked."

Two tongue clicks.

"Open the van!"

After Anas opened every door, the soldier proceeded to rummage through seats and throw out everything he could find. Next, they brought a blueish wand over to check for explosives. After another 30 minutes. The soldier nodded at Anas. It had been an hour and we had been cleared to approach the terminal.

As we neared my stop and as I dug deep into my pockets to compensate him well, I said, "I'm glad that's over!"

"No." he responded. "THAT will never be over. Salaam my friend. Come again soon."