"I'd prefer to just get back on the bus."

Near the end of my trip to Palestine, I took a day-trip from Jerusalem to Bethlehem with just a few others in the group. On the way back, we stopped at the checkpoint of entry into Jerusalem. We were on a public bus, and everyone on the bus had to get off and stand in a line on the sidewalk while the Israeli military police searched the bus for 20 minutes.

I was the very last person in this line, waiting to get back onto the bus. Taking advantage of the moment, I snapped a few pictures, especially getting one of the line of people, just to remind me of the story. (At which point, the story was just that it took a total of 20 mins and counting to get through a check point....it ended up actually taking 40-45 mins)

We started to file back onto the bus, each person having to show their ID to the military police at the front of the line. Oooo, another photo opportunity! I raised my camera, let it focus, and....ooops, the military policeman saw me. He immediately motioned for me to put down the camera. So I put it in my pocket. Darn, no picture taken.

I eventually reached the front of the line, and was the only civilian outside the bus anymore. I held up my "free-pass-to-anywhere" white-American passport, and the Israeli military policeman said, "Show me your picture." I thrust the passport closer to him, thinking he was asking for my passport picture. No.

"Your camera. Give me your camera. You took a picture."

"You want my camera?" An expression of expectation looked back at me.

"But that's my personal camera."

"Give me your camera."

"It's my personal camera, and I'd prefer to just get back on the bus."

"I saw you take a picture of me. Your camera" (holding out one of his hands, the other one holding his gun at his side)

I shook my head. "I didn't take a picture of you. You motioned for me to put the camera down before I could take a picture, and so I put it away."

Perplexed silence.

"Give me your camera."

"That's my personal camera, and I'd really like to just get back on the bus instead."

I looked up the stairs of the bus nervously - my heart was hammering in my throat. 'Why was I saying no to a soldier?' I thought to myself. There are so many things about this situation that I could be miscalculating. What if I somehow got arrested for this? I strongly wished that our delegation leader was with me, but today was a free day, and I was only with a few other members of the delegation. Shanon. Shanon was still on the bus stairs because she had been right in front of me, and was watching the exchange take place between me and the soldier. That made me feel better.

The soldier and I continued to go back and forth for a couple minutes, really not deviating much from what had already been said. I was beginning to contemplate simply turning my back to the soldier and getting on the bus. I didn't know if I could make that big of a decision on my own. (at the moment that felt like a huge choice!)

Then a Palestinian passenger came up to the front of the bus and stepped down on to the sidewalk with me, so I asked him if I should just get on the bus. He quickly affirmed this idea and motioned/shepherd-ed me onto the bus. I boarded the bus without a backward glance, and followed Shanon to our seats. Nervously, I waited to see if the soldier would board the bus after me, but he didn't. A few minutes later we pulled out of the checkpoint.

My feelings and observations about this incident were multi-fold. First I felt relieved to have gotten through it without any consequences (jail, losing my camera, holding up the bus for a hideously long time). I felt overwhelmingly grateful to the Palestinian man who came forward to stand with me and helped me be strong enough to turn away from the soldier. Then I felt proud of myself for doing a bit of resistance work against the occupation. I resisted being bullied into handing over my camera. It felt like a tiny victory! Then I thought about how I was really in a privileged position throughout the incident, being a white American -- and consequently, how much worse it would probably have been had I been a Palestinian woman refusing to give a soldier her camera. The face of the soldier went through my mind. He looked awfully young. Younger than I am. He likely was, considering that all Israeli citizens (both men and women) are required to serve in the military for a few years after high school. I assume he fit into that category. He didn't look mean to me, but he had a lot of mean gear on! Helmet, badges, guns, other unidentifiable (to me) gear.

But really, I can't assume that he wanted to be doing what he was doing. I think Israeli young people are in a tough position. Without a legal choice in the matter, SOME of the Israeli militants must be opposed to the occupation, or at least just don't want to serve in the military. If they refuse to join, they suffer being arrested. This is one way in which I think Israeli soldiers are victims of the occupation themselves. -- they are legally forced to participate in maintaining a huge military operation. An operation that is illegal under international law, and teaches them that it is normal and good to operate illegally. An operation which often places soldiers in compromising positions, forcing them to make hard choices. Often, soldiers end up making violent choices that they didn't want to make. They are often told lies about the communities to which they are being sent to occupy.

For instance, (according to the permanent CPTers who live in Hebron): in Hebron, soldiers only stay there for 2-3 months. Before they arrive, they are told that Hebron Palestinian citizens are especially violent and always plotting how to kill soldiers. The soldiers arrive in Hebron very scared and suspicious! And they stay in Hebron for such a short time because if they stayed longer, they could begin to know the citizens and understand that they aren't actually violent. Then, at the end of their time in Hebron, ALL of them are moved out, and a completely new group of soldiers is moved in. This avoids the possibility of more experienced soldiers of the area telling the new soldiers that the Palestinians there are not violent like their superiors told them.

I am trying to demonstrate with this story and extra information that Israeli soldiers face their own set of difficulties in the occupation. They may be lied to, they may be serving unwillingly, they may be scared, they may later regret their choices. I wish to avoid demonizing Israeli soldiers. I wish to affirm their humanity, dignity, and recognize that they are suffering from the occupation.