On our way home from the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, the bus always passes by another bus parking lot as well as the train tracks of a train that takes one anywhere from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. Today, as the bus passed by this point, I noticed around six Iraeli soldiers walking to their bus stop.
The six of them were wearing their green uniforms, carrying the same color duffle bags over their shoulders. If one were completely oblivious to what has been going on at this end of the world, one may mistake them for young men in a marching band or teenagers coming home from school.
But their combat boots give them away. Those larger-than-the-person’s-size black boots give them away. Those comabt boots tell of a story that was never meant to bring happiness…a story of a few generations that passed and built this apartheid state on a land that was never a land without a people. Those combat boots have been passed on to another generation to carry on the ill deed.
We musn’t forget the shiny shoes that helped build just a heinous occupation, too.