“We don’t want them to solve the question of Palestine. At least, they should solve Qalandia.”
The man, as all seven passengers including the service taxi driver, was frustrated with all the traffic the checkpoint causes that is magnified in the month of Ramadan.
I used to audit a course of the question of Palestine. The professor, sleeves rolled up and all, would speak so passionately as the students who ranged from knowing nothing at all to having the Oslo Accords close to memorized listened quietly. The refugee camps, the destroyed villages, Oslo, the ’48 and ’67 wars, the first and second intifada were at the core of those discussions. If one were to place Qalandia checkpoint on the list of topics to discuss, it would be on the list as a topic of its own.
Lines and lines of cars and buses were to the left as we were headed back to Ramallah. People waiting, getting furious, yelling at each other, trying to bypass each other to get through the blot of gray that stands…
That blot of gray that is a question itself.