A Dutch journalist is held up for a few hours at the airport on her way into Israel for security checks and already, in her head, she’s writing the story of how bad it must be for a Palestinian. But then reality bites. Read the whole thing, extracts below.
Five hours at Tel Aviv airport BY NICOLIEN DEN BOER IN ISRAEL
It’s 4 a.m. at Tel Aviv Airport and this is the third time I’ve been questioned so far. My passport has stamps from various Arab countries: Dubai, Yemen and archenemy Syria. Finally I get my passport back and am allowed to enter.
If they treat me, a Dutch woman like this, what’s it like for a Palestinian? I’d started going on about getting the Dutch embassy involved. I even rang them up – they were closed, of course. But a Palestinian wouldn’t have any embassy to call. I’m trying not to think in simplistic terms of ‘good guy, bad guy’, but it’s difficult.
I save my complaint for the government press office in Jerusalem, where I go to pick up my press card the next day. “Security measures,” is the explanation I get from the press officer, a tired looking woman by the name of Pnina Aizenman. “What do you think it’s like for us, waking up each morning and never knowing what the day will bring?” she says, clearly referring to Palestinian suicide attacks on Israeli civilians.
While Pnina’s busy getting my press card ready, I take a look at the photos of children and a newspaper article on the wall behind me. The article is about a woman who lost her mother and her five-year-old child in a Palestinian suicide bombing. The name of the woman is Pnina Aizenman. I get the shivers. “That’s you,” I stammer. “Yes. Do you understand now what I mean by security measures?” she replies. I suddenly feel ashamed that I’ve just been complaining about being kept waiting for five hours when this woman’s life has been totally wrecked by a bomb. (Radio Netherlands)
