Dear All,
As many of you know, I am not the sort of person that likes to place herself in danger simply to feel her heart shaking in her chest.
The Palestinian way to Ramallah would sufficiently feed my appetite for adrenaline. East Jerusalem is hugged by Bethlehem in the south and Ramallah in the north. Israel forbids West Bank Palestinians from entering East Jerusalem without a permit. After the Israeli War of Independence or, alternatively, the Palestinian Catastrophe in 1948, Jordan took the eastern part of Jerusalem and the newly-created Israeli state took the western part. During the Six Day War of 1967, Israel captured and occupied the Golan Heights, the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula, and the West Bank. East Jerusalem is in the West Bank. Israel annexed East Jerusalem but continued to occupy the West Bank, differentiating the status of the city from the status of its region. The Israeli annexation of East Jerusalem created differences between the statuses of the Palestinians of Jerusalem and the those of the West Bank. Palestinian (Christian and Muslim) residents of Jerusalem carry Israeli passports, pay Israeli taxes, use Israeli public services such as health care, and can vote in municipal elections, but they cannot vote in national elections. The vast majority of Palestinian Jerusalemites do not vote in municipal elections as a sign of protest. After 1995, Israel forbid West Bank Palestinians from entering Israel without a permit. This happened after the Oslo Peace Process. My Palestinian "Aunty" told me that these new rules were a result of the Oslo policy to separate East Jerusalem, Gaza, and the West Bank from each other. Permits for Palestinians to go from one area to another are rarely issued. If a West Bank Palestinian goes to East Jerusalem without a permit from the Israeli Army, she and her driver risk indefinite detention and imprisonment.
Since my mother and I are traveling with my Palestinian sister, Majd, a resident of the West Bank town of Bethlehem, we must go around Jerusalem to get to anywhere in the north, such as Ramallah, where we have been twice since we came. The day before we went for the first time, I was visiting my friend Luna and her family in Bethlehem. I was joking that I do not need to watch scary movies or go on rides at amusement parks because all I need to do is to take the "Wadi Nar" way to Ramallah. "Wadi Nar" means, "Valley of Fire" in English. One must pass through this valley in order to get from the southern part of the West Bank to the northern part. Cars with Palestinian plates are forbidden from all other passages between the south and the north. The Valley of Fire is a steep desert valley near the Jordan Valley.
My heart pounded in my mouth the first time I went down the twisted road, my wide eyes fixed on the long drop. At each switchback the driver made a 180 degree turn on the narrow road. The barriers by the side of the road--when they were there--had been nudged too many times for my confidence. I watched the truck in front of me do a back and forth dance to find its balance as it heavily inched down the road. After a twisty climb out of the Valley, there is an Israeli Army checkpoint. I joked at Luna's house that this was the only thrill that I needed because as soon as one relaxes from the dangerous descent and assent in and out of the Valley, one is faces soldiers! It is a cheap thrill, only costing 18 shekels. "I don't need any other thrills!" I told Luna's laughing family.
However, when we got to Ramallah the on Tuesday, Majd's friend had other ideas for where I would get my thrills: this time they would cost a few more shekels (about 20 shekels each, to be precise): we were going to Makhmas Fun Land--an amusement park! When I was a child, I never enjoyed amusement parks. The costly combination of super-fast American rides that turn the rider up-side-down and the typical half hour long waits in the hot sun have never appealed to me. However, on this cold, windy Ramallah day, I wanted to be polite to my sister's friend and to have fun myself. I went on two rides (the Ferris wheel does not count). The second ride was new to the park but I have seen higher rides in the US. I do not know what it is called either in English or in Arabic but it is a big pendulum that swings first a little and then it goes turns a whole circle three times, like a minute hand counting three hours. Riders sit securely in chairs on the pendulum. All morning I had swore that I would not go on that ride but I had been inspired on the spur of the moment to grab Majd's friend and run into line with her. "Let's do it before I get afraid again," I said catching the breath that I had lost more from anticipation than from running. While I was upside down, about three stories above Ramallah, I realized something about why people go on rides at amusement parks. It feels good to scream. Upside down, I relaxed my body. I had been tensing every muscle of it: as the pendulum descended, my body wanted to stay where it was before. Relaxed, my body turned into scrolls of fabric and seemed to whip backwards, into the chair. I yelled and yelled, blinking my eyes at the fast approaching ground.
I had paid for this thrill, and more importantly, I had decided to have it. For Palestinians who have Palestinian ID cards, the Valley of Fire is not a choice. Like going on rides in the amusement park, after going to Ramallah, I felt a little sick after the journey to Ramallah--I did not feel like eating. The amusement park jostles one's system by playing with one's sense of balance; it shakes up one's sense of up and down. The Valley of Fire route jostles with one's system by putting one on a winding, unsafe road; surrounding oneself with smells of gas and sometimes open sewage; bringing one in contact with bored young men with guns; and adding half an hour at the very, very least to one's journey. However, the feeling that results from the pendulum ride and the ride through the Valley of Fire is essentially the same. It is a carsick adrenaline rush. However, at the amusement park, it is acceptable to scream.
I hope this letter finds you all well, warm, and happy,
In Peace,
Larisa
Wadi Nar from the backseat of a taxi
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