It was my first time in a set lement and I was terrified of being kil ed.
The police station was white and new and oddly silent. “This station looks like a sugar cube some giant dropped on the lawn,” I told the of icer. I could tel he liked the image, but he pretended he hadn’t heard me.
The inside of the building was as neat and sterile as the outside. The police o cer sat on one side of a desk and I sat facing him. It was a game, a ridiculous game with assigned roles, and I wondered how we hadn’t al tired of playing it. I wondered how it was that we weren’t bored to death. Wel , I was bored. I had final y reached the point where I was bored to death.
“What were you doing here?” the police o cer asked me. He was bald and he looked a bit like a toad. He had mild toad eyes and a squat amphibian body. If I kissed him he would turn into a handsome prince.
“I’m a terrorist, can’t you tel ?”
“Let’s start over. What are you doing here?”
“I’m visiting my husband.”
“Is this another joke? Don’t push me, I’m not in a good mood.”
“It’s not a joke. I apologize, I’m just frustrated. I’m here to see my husband.”
“Your husband, where?”
“My husband lives in Qal’at al-Maraya.”
“You’re married to an Arab?”
“No. He was wounded in the army and he went into hiding. I just found out. So I’ve come to see him.”
“In the army! I can’t make heads or tails of your story.”
“Wel , that’s the story.”
“What’s he doing in a Palestinian city? Did he have a …you know …breakdown or something?”
“Yes. He lost his mind, so he went to live in Qal’at al-Maraya, and now I want to see him.”
“You’re bet er of without him! How come I never heard about this? An insane former soldier living in a Palestinian town!”
“I don’t know. Check your computer. He’s there.”
“What were you doing trying to free a prisoner?”
“I wasn’t trying to free him. Obviously! How could I? I just wanted to …I just couldn’t bear to watch it.”
“Next time stay at home. This isn’t a place for the softhearted. Do you think we’re here to play Ping- Pong?”
“Aren’t you bored? Aren’t you sick and tired of al this?”
“Of course I’m sick and tired of it! You think you have a monopoly on that? You think only the left knows what’s going on? If you think
“Of course I’m sick and tired of it! You think you have a monopoly on that? You think only the left knows what’s going on? If you think that, you have even less brains than I gave you credit for.”
“This is Palestine. This isn’t our land.”
“You can say that about the whole country. Al right, you can go. I’l get someone to drive you.”
“Yes, yes, you can say it about the whole country. We don’t even deserve the part we have. You can write that in my file.”
“Believe it or not, Miss Hil man, this interview has come to an end. Someone wil drive you to Selah. You can wait outside.”
“A set ler?”
“Yes.”
“No, I don’t want to get into a car with a set ler. I want to live a few more years.”
“The car is bul etproof.”
“Just take me to the gate, I’l take a Palestinian transit. Or I’l walk.”
“You don’t have a choice. A car is going to take you to Selah. Once you cross over, you can take whatever means of transportation you want. We don’t ever want to see you here again.”
“You can’t keep me out.”
“Yes we can.”
He told me to wait, and returned a few minutes later with a driver. The driver looked like an ordinary person, someone I might have seen on any city street. But we were enemies: he hated me for supporting the Palestinians and I hated him for living in a set lement. I climbed into the back of his luxurious, air-conditioned limousine; it was the most expensive car I’d ever been in. He drove me to Selah, which was in fact only minutes away from the set lement. Neither of us said anything, not even good-bye; we were both too angry.
Standing before me at Selah was a magni cent man. He had a close white and charcoal beard and smal metal-rimmed glasses, very slightly tinted. He wasn’t wearing the uniform of a border guard, and he wasn’t a soldier; he appeared to be another sort of guard, sent here perhaps to l in for someone. His navy bul etproof vest lay against his body like a baby carrier. He had broad shoulders and he stood with his hands in his pockets, looking
