"So, Tell Me About Russian History..."
Trip Start
Sep 01, 2010
1
10
12
Trip End
Sep 21, 2010
Elat, HaDarom, Israel
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Having crossed the no-man's land between Jordan and Israel, I entered the security tent, if you will, to have my passport checked and luggage scanned. I handed over my passport, emptied my pockets, gave away my backpack, and all the usual customs involved with border protocol. But there was an unusual delay: at least five guards had been staring at my passport for maybe ten to fifteen minutes, just looking at all the pages and the stamps. It was obvious - I thought - that the Syrian stamp was a red flag. It became apparent that this indeed was the case.
I was pulled aside eventually by a male guard, who said he needed to conduct a search. Standard procedure, such was the theme of my encounter. We went behind a curtain, and he put on rubber gloves - thankfully, this did not turn into a full cavity search. I was required to drop trou at one stage, but only because my fly was setting off the handheld metal detector. Such was the level of intimacy that he could of at least asked me out for dinner beforehand, though of course I had to suppress my temptation to crack this joke at this time. Now was not the time for clichéd humour.
So, after that, and after a little wait, two new guards came over, including dear Hila who was to be the main inquisitor throughout the ordeal. I must admit that, on my part, things did not get off on the right foot. "We would like to ask you a few questions", Hila said. "That's okay", I replied, "I read that this thing could happen." Oops. "What do you mean?" "Where did you read this?". Instant regret. "Don't worry don't worry, what were you saying?" That seemed to work, she moved on.
They began with a few basic questions. Where was I from, what did I do for a living - being a student was an instant no-no; we are clearly a suspicious and shifty bunch. A barrage of questions followed about my education and the institution I went to, just to check it was real I suppose. Then they asked what I studied, which led to the odd question "so tell me about Russian history?" What what do you say?! I gave some sort of narrative about the Russian revolution, which wasn't terribly clear, or accurate really, but panic had by this point completely set in.
Following this little back and forth, they began to search my luggage, every last nook and cranny, nothing was spared, including the toilet paper I was carrying about, which caused giggles from the searchers - well, I'm sure as hell not going to wipe my fine British behind with piss-poor Syrian toilet paper, which you can't even flush anyway since the plumbing is so appalling.
Back to the point, after the search things only went downhill, given the items they found and quizzed me about. First, a copy of selected portions of the hadith, which for reference is essence Mohammed's Little Red Book, the collected sayings of the prophet (PBUH, I should say). "Why did I have this?" "Why do you want to read this?" This item, in combination with the ticket they found for the Umayyad Mosque in Damas, lead to much religious questioning. "Does your family celebrate religious holidays?" "Why have you been to a mosque?" "Did you pray in the mosque?" My atheism only served to confuse the situation - "So you think we just got here?"; Hila looked very confused.
The final item they took issue with was a confirmation slip detailing my planned tour of the West Bank. Earlier, they had asked why I was coming to Israel - which, after I told them I was going to Yad Vashem, led to the question "so what is your opinion on the Holocaust?" - but I did not mention I was planning to go to the Palestinian Territories. I once again muddled the whole affair by mentioning that I was a member of a Friends of Israel group. Hila then asked "so if you are part of this group why do you want to go to Bethlehem?" Well, I said, I just wanted to see both sides of the conflict. I then had to explain that though I was a Friend I supported a two state solution. This didn't seem to cause uproar, and she let it slide.
This whole process took two hours - during which time Hila and a colleague wrote up a pretty detailed report on me - after which time I was led out to a building in the middle of the border area - it was a mobile hut, a sweat box actually - where I was felt on my own for an hour, since it was, said Hila "all in the hands of passport control now." I am not sure what the purpose of this stay was - I presume they were deciding my fate and seeing what I would do during this time.
At any rate, Hila came back for me and then I was led to passport control. This took an age, since I was asked the same set of inane questions three times - name, date of birth, profession, location - and importantly, why were you in Syria. After maybe three quarters of an hour, I was stamped and waved on my way. "So," I asked, "can I ask why I was questioned and searched." "Standard procedure, I can not say", the border agent replied. "Okay, thanks", I said back in that polite and pathetic Anglo-Saxon manner, and went to get a cab.
At the time, I was pissed, why had I been searched?! After all, I was but a tourist. It really caused me to question my unrelenting support for the State of Israel - was this really the oasis of freedom I had dreamed about? Putting it together though, I can see just why they felt the need to treat me in this manner - there I was travelling alone, a student, been to Syria, been to mosque, was going to the Palestinian Territories. It is suspicious. And also, at the time, I failed to see it from both sides of the divide - the guards were, after all, merely trying to keep their precious homeland safe, in a region where all but two Arab states believe they don't have the right to exist at all, and where some such an Iran even threaten the country with extinction and the entire populace with annihilation.
Now, as time heals all wounds, I look back on it as a holiday experience, with the knowledge that next time I visit, they will be ready for me, and with all the information they have on record, they might even cut me a bit of slack!
