Monday, March 03, 2008

khalas

They let you leave Israel alot easier than they let you get in. My first steps back on Egyptian soil were accompanied by a surprising sense of relief. I hadn't realised the subconscious tension I had been harboring the entire time during the last 6 days. But the tension is definitely there. Even as a tourist, you always feel the need to please the occupiers, to prove outwardly you aren't doing anything wrong. In Cairo, if any loser on the street tries to whisper sleazy things into my ear, I ignore them like I’m Helen Keller – deaf, blind and mute. Walking past Israeli soldiers on the street though, one good morning from them, and for some retarded reason I feel compelled to acknowledge them with an, albeit tight, smile. What was I scared of? That they’d SHOOT me if I didn’t pander to their bored flirtations? If this is how I feel as a tourist, imagine how the Palestinians feel. Apparently, this friend of a friend’s, a Palestinian, who was rather tubby around the stomach, used to walk around with his shirt lifted whenever he passed by Israeli soldiers, to prove, each and every single time, that it was indeed human lard he carried around, and not ammunition.

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