The day the Dead Sea died (original)

The next blog appeared in the Elders Blog here after having underwent a liposuction:

Ramallah is delusional.

Ramallah has no sea, but she truly believes that she deserves one.

The center of town is called "Manara" or the "Light House", and on a clear summer evening, one can see the Mediterranean and the cities that lie ashore.

"Manara" has four lion statues depicting the four original families. I met the fifth.

His name is Ramzi, and he is a very handsome Palestinian who hails from the Tulkarm Refugee camp in the nothern West Bank. In a better world, merely 10 miles from the Mediterranean modern-day town of Netanya.

Ramzi has never seen the Mediterranean, but he loves the sea.

His ideal vacation always includes the Summer, sand and the sea.

Perhaps this is why his typical suggestion to "what shall we do this weekend?" was always "let's go to the dead sea!"

I was not always enthusiastic about going to the Dead sea beach because of the lack of services, the lack of chairs, the expensive entry and the over-all feel that the place was not very well taken care of.

But I always complied. The dead sea is the only sea Ramzi has access to since it has beaches inside of the West Bank, however, we always picked the beach that "allowed" in Arabs regardless of the fact that one can see the cheaper and better quality beach on the other side that allowed in Jews, (and Arabs with Israeli IDs). I never really gave this issue much thought. I went there because ramzi wanted to go there and because I liked hanging around with him.

It was not until my best friend, an Argentine, decided to visit me in Palestine for the first time. "What shall we do this weekend?" and Ramzi's response was very clear. Off to the Dead sea we went. But this time, we chose the "Kalia beach" only because I wanted my Argentine friend to feel much more comfortable wearing her Bikini, which I rarely saw in the beach I always went to which allowed in Arabs.

By the entrance, I, a Palestinian holder of the Israeli passport and pale-skinned paid my ticket, Carla paid her ticket, and it was now Ramzi's turn.

Ramzi, a Palestinian holder of an Arabian prince's face with darker features was stopped by the bossy female cashier.

"Show me your ID" she demands.

He turns around and looks at me "Ok, we're screwed, let's just leave"

I was left dumb-founded. Only then did I realize what this was all about.

The West Bank is segregated. The West Bank is a land of two never-intersecting people. The Palestinians and the settlers. Racism here is systematic. There are streets that are designated for Jews only. On check points, there is an entrance for Israelis and another for Palestinians, subjugating them for humiliation and careful examination, sometimes for hours.

And the cashier at the entrance to the Dead sea was but an advocate for segregation and an apostle for the apartheid system!

In a moment of rage, I stepped forward, and demanded that she accepts my friend's money and allow him in. She refuses. I insisted. My voice started growing louder as the rage grew even wilder.

My friend was clearly upset, but I doubt he even thought for a second that what happened was morally wrong, in a way, Palestinians have to find out for themselves that they live in under an Apartheid regime. They grow too used to living in daily humiliating quotidian. It is not until one leaves, one observes, and one compares, that one comes to such a conclusion.

I, for one, did not realize how humiliating it must have been for me to undress in front of security guards and defend my Jerusalem ID to teenage Israeli soldiers, until I went through that process.

Ramzi did not understand my rage, and so did the woman behind the cash register.

Neither of them saw what I saw.

To me, she was an employee at a beach, and not a security guard at an immigration office.

Her job was to allow people inside, regardless of their gender, age, race, ethnicity, or nationality.

It was her job to hand in any peaceful client his ticket with a smiling face. My friend was so peaceful, he was actually standing in his bikini as this happened.

I finally told the woman off, I cursed and I took my money back. Her response was "When you take 'Shkhem' (Nablus) and Ramallah how will you act?!" I did not get her logic, and I left as my troubled Argentine friend was asking "what year do they live in?"

That day, I learned that the West Bank is Israel's backyard where it hides its most disgraceful secret: Apartheid.

We never made it to the Dead Sea. that day, the Dead Sea went down on my list of "Things to Boycott"

PS: Picture from this Facebook page: a sea in Ramallah