Philistine Ayad

Beit-Hanina Checkpoint

The sweltering heat, and lack of air-conditioning, left no option other than to have all of the windows thrown open—begging for a nonexistent breeze. An old woman walks up to the car, and sorrowfully says, “Not good.” The inhabitants of the car look at each other in confusion. Suddenly, the checkpoint becomes utter bedlam. Another skirmish between the local youth and the tyrannical soldiers is underway. Rocks are hurtled uselessly against metal, as bullets pierce through flesh. The gunpowder screams as it wreaks destruction. “Get down!” the driver yells as he peels out of the checkpoint, evading merciless gunfire, driving swiftly past the tear inflicting clouds. The terrified shaking stops as we reach our home, and is replaced by trembling of a different nature. We laugh because we have experienced yet another adventure and have escaped unscathed. We laugh because we will live to see another day: not really occurring to us, until years of maturity later, that some other children would not.