"Why do you smoke so much?", I asked him, a 23-year-old, first year Law student who came to my ESL class.
"Because I was in j-jel," H wasn't sure of the right English word to use.
"Jail?" I tried to help him out though the answer raised even more questions.
"You've got to tell me your story on another day," I said.
Last Wednesday, he came and we sat at the kitchen table on the top floor of the school building.
"If I wasn't there that day, I now finished university," he started.
"I was 16, last year at school, I went with my friend, like brother."
"We were at Checkpoint 300."
"What were you doing?" I wanted to hear how he thought of that.
"To show support, for Palestinians. We want freedom. And you know, when somebody got killed..."
"Suddenly," he continued, " my friend on the ground, I thought him joking. Then I saw blood coming out. I was (shot) on the side and I fell on my friend. Israeli soldiers up, not see."
"Where were the soldiers? What were you doing? How many people fell? What happened then?" So many questions.
"Ambulance came, I was in hospital three days. My friend died."
Silence.
"Why? I don't understand. We didn't do anything" he spoke out what he had kept asking himself.
Silence.
"After that, I went everyday, for my friend."
Understandably.
"One night, two O'clock, Israeli soldiers came, forced open door, took me."
"They put me in a 2 metre X 2 metre room, no light, nothing, me one person. 70 days. Then changed. Tel-Aviv. Changed. One year, let me out." Sketchy, hard to understand.
"They came again, this time half year."
"People hear jail, afraid. I no job. Now I don't care. I hate Palestine. I want to leave."
"My friend in India, student visa, now working. He gets married. I will go anywhere."
He is studying Law now but he is thinking of giving up. He wants a job. A 23-year-old young man who loves and hates Palestine.
"Are you angry?" I asked.
"No," he said, and I believed him.
"I just don't understand," he added.
"Can I now pray for you?" I asked my Muslim friend. "Thank you," he answered.
G, Hotel Manager
I was doing my PH.D. in Russia when my father got ill here.
I was doing my PH.D. in Russia when my father got ill here.
I packed a small bag to come back, thinking I would visit for a week or so. Little had I known that my life was to be changed completely: my travel documents were confiscated at the Israeli airport.
“Did they tell you why?”
“Well, for security reasons, that’s all they needed to say.”
“So what did that do to you?”
“That meant I could not travel anymore, that meant I left my PH. D unfinished, I had only my suitcase for 1 week with me…”
Now married to a Russian who grew up in Jerusalem, they now are managers at the Pilgrim Residence in Bethlehem, where we have been guests with their family quite a number of times.
“Very stressful, maybe that’s why God sent you to me…” talking about daily challenges, she remarked.
M, Builder
M, Builder
"My wife is an Israeli citizen and she had to live in Jerusalem Palestine
“我的妻子是一名以色列公民，為了維持她的居留權，她不得不住在耶路撒冷。我沒有以色列身份證，我什至不得越過邊界。我們有五個孩子，我不可能不理會他們。那兩年，每天晚上我會偷偷越過邊界，白天卻回到巴勒斯坦。那種生活你能相信嗎？“
