March 19, 2003

Elizabeth comforts one of her students, hearing that we are being evacuated to Cyprus.

Elizabeth shares a traditional Arabic greeting with one of her students are we prepare to leave for Cyprus.

Elizabeth suggested and Fr. Aktham agreed that we say a word to the students at assembly this morning. There was a general murmur when we told them we were going to Cyprus. Some of our students were happy, mostly because it meant they would have extra free periods. Others were in tears - some from thinking this was permanent, others because they, too, thought this meant certain dread for the West Bank in the coming days. Elizabeth spent the next hour visiting with her seventh and eighth graders, writing little notes in their diaries/autography books, taking down their email addresses, and accepting their adorable bright jenini gifts.

Elizabeth with just a few of our farewell gifts from students and friends.

We caught a taxi with one other passenger - an AAUJ student with a Jerusalem ID - going to Qalandia. The Tayasir checkpoint is completely closed. Hamra is tougher than usual. Every passenger and every bag was being inspected when we arrived. The driver wanted us to insist on our VIP status as Americans - we were less anxious to jump places in line and to reinforce the Israeli apartheid any further. But when the soldiers announced that no more cars were going to pass at all, Marthame walked towards them with passport in hand.

"Shu! What!" shouted the soldier in Arabic.

"Hi. Good afternoon."

"Go there." He waved his M-16 towards a concrete barricade. "Where are you from? The United States? Sh**." He then spat on the ground - not sure how to read that one.

After a reasonably quick check of our taxi (which did end up jumping places in line), we were allowed to pass. As we pulled away, the next car was being called to the checkpoint. Perhaps our presence had pushed things on a bit. We called the travel agent in Jerusalem to tell him we would be running late - two hours at Hamra was much more than we had bargained for.

We arrived at the next checkpoint, near the settlement of Ma'ale Ephraim. One of the two soldiers asked us in American-accented English, "Where are you guys from?"

"Well, Chicago most recently."

"That's cool. I'm from Brooklyn. OK. You guys are cool. You can pass. Take it easy."

We were simply waved through the third checkpoint near Taybeh and arrived at Qalandia. Two more taxi rides and another checkpoint in Ar-Ram and we arrived an hour late to pick up our plane tickets. The kind man waited for us, then gave us a ride to our hotel, the Notre Dame. We wouldn't normally stay here, but given the situation and the fact that the place is outfitted with a bomb shelter and a sealed room (for potential chemical attack) made it a good choice.

Puppies are therapeutic.

We visited with our journalist friend and some of her friends, eating a delicious meal and playing with their new stray puppy. Her husband's in Eastern Syria waiting for the coming war.