RAMALLAH, PART 2

Dec. 14, 2006. At the beginning of November, I had a very traumatic experience when I had to leave Israel to fly back to the States for concerts. I did not want to continue writing on my website until I returned here to Ramallah a month later, and found out whether or not I would be denied entry…. The good news is, I’m back! But I feared being denied re-entry because my difficult experience was precisely with the Israeli Security at the airport upon my departure. Firstly, let me say that I had caught a serious cold the whole week previous to this departure, had a weak voice, and I was still quite ill when I went to the airport. It just went downhill from there.

On the drive to the airport, my taxi was signaled to pull aside at a Checkpoint so that an Israeli soldier could ask questions. After speaking with the driver, he then asked me something in Hebrew. I did not understand, and when he realized I spoke English, he was very friendly and came over to the passenger’s side and asked me where I was going. I replied that we were going to the airport, and he asked if he could see my bags. I got out of the car and he viewed my bags in the open trunk, which seemed to satisfy him. Then he said, “Thank you, goodbye”. It is intimidating, all the military/soldier checks I have experienced with travel in this small country. One never knows what is going to happen, because anything can happen---there is a personal powerlessness in this country not my own, and I have no “rights” in which to stand as I otherwise have in America. (More on that later).

Once inside the airport, I was immediately called aside when trying to check my bags---no one even looked at my passport, only my visa that I had in my hand, so at first I did not understand how this called attention to me. It started out with two people interrogating me (one was being trained, as it was explained to me). It began routinely, it seemed, being asked standard questions such as “what was the purpose of your trip?” But soon, there were concerns over things I did not fully understand. I began to feel faint because I could see this was not going well, and was being viewed as a true security threat, armed with my many flutes. I felt so faint that I sat down on their marble counter, which was fortunately at the height in which I could do so. Being seated was the only thing that kept me going, and through this whole ordeal I was outwardly very calm and kind, even affable, but I will admit that inwardly I was a dried leaf reeling in high winds, wondering how I would get through this. Isn’t that their purpose, come to think of it? What was my crime, after all? The answer they never did get from me in these 4 ½ hours: that I teach the flute/music to Palestinians.

The questions became more pointed: who bought my ticket, what was their name, where did I stay, etc. Then odd questions such as, “When did you decide to play the flute? I answered, “You mean in Life? As long as I can remember!” Security: “So, it wasn’t University when you first decided to study flute?” “Uh, no, I was probably about four years old when I knew”. (I’m sure this was helping them get to the bottom of the issue, whatever it was!)

Then, “What did you study your first year of University?” I said, “Are you kidding me? This was a long time ago. Are you wanting the names of the classes?” “Yes, what were the names of the classes.” I listed some. Then I thought we’d move on, but the next question was, to my shock, “And in your second year of University, what did you study?” At this rate, I’d be back in the USA in 5 years or so. I laughed again, and said, “You can’t be serious!” (They nodded that they were). “Let’s see---I remember one class called Interpersonal Communications that I really liked”. “And what is Interpersonal Communications?” “How people communicate with one another, just like we are doing here, on all the various levels in which people react and relate to one another.” He seemed satisfied with this. Shortly after this, one after another Superior was called in on my case. I was asked, “Why did you not to have your passport stamped?” At first, I tried to say that if the passport needed a stamp, go ahead and stamp it, if this was the problem. I was afraid to say “why”, but I should not have been, because I did nothing wrong in the request. She said to me, “This stamp here on your visa says you requested your passport not be stamped”. Finally, the reason I had immediately been taken aside in the first place at the airport was apparent! Realizing that I’d done nothing wrong and that it was a fact, I said I had been advised by American friends to try not to have my passport stamped, as it would be difficult if I ever wanted to travel to, say, Syria. The Superior woman glared at me for saying this. Then she wanted to know, “What is the name of your friend who told you this?” I shook my head in exhaustion and said, “I have no idea, many people said it to me”. She said, “Why do you want to play music here?” (asked not out of curiosity, but more like a criticism). I answered by looking directly in her eyes, saying, “Because music has no Walls, Borders, Boundaries, language, or culture barriers. It speaks to all people on the deepest level freely, and feeds them there. That is why I play music, and want to play here, in particular”. Thus was my sermon to her, which she probably missed the crux of….Then she said, “Did you travel to the Gaza Strip or the West Bank?” Here is the truth: I was not POSITIVE that Ramallah was in the West Bank, and since it is so close to Jerusalem, I was pretty sure it was not…and this is the ignorant truth on my part. So I said, “No”. (This will come up later…)

Did I mention this went on for 4 ½ hours? Soon, they took me to, what I was later told by those who have experienced it, the “Arab room”. They body-searched me, and then took all of my luggage, each bag to its own cold metal counter upon which they dumped everything out into bins. There were now about 12 people working through everything--every paper, every dirty sock, every stitch. They took all of my flutes from their bags and cases (two metal flutes, and about nine other folk flutes), taking the flutes separately from the room without cases, checking them and bringing them back and just setting them on the cold metal counters with no regard to their fragility, or meaning to me.

I sat on a separate cold bench watching them all paw through every item, drinking hot water to keep from freezing inside, as I was so cold. One woman came out with my camera and wanted to know why the flash wasn’t working. I saw that they had set it on a strange setting, and changed it for her. She took a picture of the floor to check it, twice. Interestingly, when I got home, these two pictures were deleted from the camera.

Suddenly, the Superior woman came out and I vaguely noticed, “hmm, there is my personal journal in her arms”. Sure enough, it was, and she had both of her arms around it, hugging it, really. She sat next to me and said angrily, “I had asked you if you had been in the Gaza Strip or the West Bank or Ramallah, and YOU HAVE BEEN IN RAMALLAH!” I said to her, “Yes, I was in Ramallah. You never asked me if I had been in Ramallah, I would have told you ‘yes’. You asked me if I had been in the Gaza Strip or the West Bank”. She walked away. Later, when I got home, I looked to see what she might have read in my journal. Sure enough, you only have to open the cover and it says in my handwriting, “October 12, 2006, Ramallah, Palestine”. She wouldn’t have had to read a single sentence further.

My theory is that this whole exchange made her angry, so she decided to punish me by taking my laptop computer from me, ‘for security examinations which we do not have time to do right now, but you will receive it back in “lost baggage” at your final destination in a few days”. For the first time in this entire ordeal, I was angry. I had watched them treat every item of my personal property with no regard, dumping anything that had a case from its case (which I had to repack), from eyeglasses dumped on their lenses, to taking my flutes and not carefully handling any of them, and now they wanted to keep my laptop computer. I said, “This is my personal property, and you have no right to take it!” I was told, “We do it all the time, Ma’am. Don’t worry, you will get it back”. This feeling of powerlessness was overwhelming: I could not threaten a lawyer, or stand on any personal rights, as I had none in this country. They put my laptop into a cardboard box and took it away. I guessed that if they went through it, they would certainly find out precisely where I’d been and what I’ve been doing. After all, it is right here on my website. That really had me in a panic, because at an earlier stage the Superior woman had asked me if I had a website (she didn’t remember the name “website”, but I knew what she was asking). She wanted me to give her the address. In the meantime, I decided I would give her the Amazon.com address where I have my CD available, and she would simply find this. I did not want to direct her to my OWN website, as all they would have to do would read the menu buttons and it would all be over with…I would be the criminal they were looking for----a performer who teaches flute to Palestinian music students! In the end, however, she never asked for a website address.

When the ordeal was finished, sans laptop I was escorted to my plane, which was to depart in five minutes, at 11:30 PM, and I was the last passenger to board. I was still in a panic about my website, as I really didn’t want them to read all about me and Palestine, as I would surely be denied entry next time. I called my husband Lee quickly, and told him what I’d just been through, and how he could crash my web-sight if he thought it was worth it. He convinced me that it was most likely too late, and let come what may, as I have done nothing wrong nor illegal. It was the most miserable flight home I’ve ever taken in my life, as I kept re-living every moment of that long interrogation. There was a point during the interrogation where I felt such terror, in fact, that I had to remind myself, “you are not in physical danger, you are not in physical danger…”

I received my computer back through "lost baggage" at my final destination, four days later, just as they had said. As far as I can tell, no damage was done to it other than cosmetic scratches.

Returning back here on December 7, I was armed with letters from our Michigan Senator, who is working very hard to end the harrasment of American citizens--especially for Palestinian-American's who try to visit their homeland. I also had email information from the US Consulate in Jerusalem about my future work with them, and phone numbers to call should I be denied entry. It was as if nothing had happened, thanks be to God. I was permitted entry. But….I will face this again when I travel with Lee (who is arriving today for two weeks!) to Italy for a concert and some vacation on December 26….

I am happy to be back here. I am in a new apartment, and am thrilled to say that it is WARM inside, and it has warm, nay, HOT water! In my final week last time at the other apartment, I had gotten sick and had no hot water for the whole week, except for 10 minutes one day when I was able to wash my hair in the sink….Unfortunately, my gas heater had also ran out, so it was tough going because it was rainy and cold the whole time. As miserable as that airplane ride was back to the USA, I never felt such delicious warmth! So this new apartment is like paradise. Ok, there are still some washer problems here, too, but I am assured that they will become fixed…(It gushes water out the back of the machine onto the floor, because an exit hose is missing). But it is, by comparison, a very comfortable apartment, and I feel at home in it, for the first time.

The Conservatory is wonderful, and the students are always rays of sunshine. I brought each of them a writing Journal of their own (I believe in this process, you see), and their own little pocket calendars so they can remember when their lessons are, and that they have a future! You would never know they live challenging or compromised lives, as they have such strong spirits, and are always full of smiles, thanks, and kindnesses.

I look forward to writing more, as I get to live more! Thanks for listening, dear readers.

--Rhonda