Three Day Permit

Today is a Greek Orthodox holiday celebrating Virgin Mary’s ascension into heaven after her death. Every year on this holiday Christians in the West Bank apply for permits from the Israeli army to go into Jerusalem to visit the church where the tomb of Mary supposedly is, and the Israelis are generally more lenient about issuing permits. About a week ago Jiries brought Tata Huda’s permit request to the military headquarters where applications are handed in. Shortly after, we found out she had been accepted- and her permit was valid for THREE whole days! This was great news because Tata Huda, for reasons unbeknownst to us, is on some sort of Israeli blacklist that classifies who is a “manuah” (I’m not sure how to spell that), which is a Palestinian person who poses as a greater security risk than others and is usually denied any traveling permits. Why Tata Huda, an 80 year old woman, is on that list is a mystery to us.

Tata’s permit is valid for 3 days, so yesterday Jiries and I took her to the beach we go to often in Ashkelon, Israel, on the Mediterranean Sea. On Thursday night when I told her we were going the next day she was thrilled. In the morning she packed up her “modern” bikini and medicine, and then we were on our way. We brought some plastic chairs so it would be more comfortable for her to lounge, and a plethora of turkey sandwiches to hold us over. As we approached the checkpoint Jiries reminded us to let him do the talking. This checkpoint was simply a small cement room in the middle of the bypass road between lanes with a watchtower nearby. Even though there was no reason to be nervous I felt a twinge of uncertainty as the Tank rolled up next to three teenager soldiers, 1 girls and 2 guys, fully equipped with intimidating aviators and massive guns. It is always unnerving at the checkpoints, since you never know if they will make you pull off to the side to search your car or ask you a series of accusatory questions (sometimes they make small talk, but we have only had the car searched once). On this particular occasion, I hoped that they would not stop us or ask questions because I didn’t want Tata Huda to be bothered or scared at all. Thankfully, after a brief stare down, they motioned for us to go through.

As we drove along through the countryside, filled mostly with agricultural fields, I thought of all the changes Tata Huda has witnessed over the course of her life: the confiscation of land, the demolition of houses, the occupation, and so much more. We passed Beit Jebren, the empty land that was an Arab village until the Israelis completely destroyed it, leaving only a few broken stone building foundations left behind as a reminder of what was once there (no, they didn’t build anything over it). I have posted pictures of the village remnants before, but seeing the look on Tata Huda’s face as we drove past them gave everything new meaning. She told me when the Israelis razed the town many of the people fled to Beit Sahour, but when the village of Beit Jebreen still stood she visited it many times.



We arrived at the beach; it was crowded, but we found a spot in the shade. I fell asleep under the sun for most of the day. The waves were really rough and the undertow was strong, so the lifeguards restricted the swimming area to a tiny space that was soon filled with so many Israelis that you couldn’t even see the actual water. The water isn’t exactly clean; with every step you take plastic bags wrap around your ankles and legs, and large unidentifiable particles float on the surface. After writing a report for the PWLS on waste management and learning about how much waste is dumped into the sea (from Gaza), I was acutely aware of what I was most likely standing in. I guess sometimes ignorance is bliss. Nonetheless, I went in the water a bunch of times, especially to accompany Tata Huda. She loved it. She sat in the sand and let the waves crash over her, the whole time with a huge smile on her face.







At one point Tata Huda sat down in her chair and it flopped over backwards. I was leaning over the cooler getting a sandwich when I heard her yelp. I immediately went to help her, but when I saw her laughing, I started laughing too, then Jiries joined in and I had no choice but to take a picture.



We were there for a few hours before we decided to head home. Much to Tata Huda’s dismay (she won’t say it, but I can tell), I drove the entire hour and a half trip home, and by the time we got back in one piece her confidence in my driving abilities was definitely boosted. I am really glad we brought her, she seemed to love it.