Kamal at Qalandia

Remember the old days when your mom would hear from a friend or a friend-of-a-friend that there's a nice single shab from so-and-so's family who's looking to meet a bint of good repute and after a proper introduction over tea and cookies, the nervous couple would go to a movie or something like that? Times are really changing.. I don't mean the fact the girls and boys now hang out at bars and clubs to scope each other out. I'm also not talking about all this cyber-dating that guys and gals are into lately. I'm talking about checkpoints. I mean, it makes perfect sense. If you're stuck waiting with a whole bunch of others and there's some cutie in line, why not make the best use of your time and "put the moves on" as they say.

So today I was at Qalandia, which not only houses one of the largest checkpoints in the West Bank, but also has the most reliable post office in the Ramallah area. Anyhow, I learned my lesson from the last time I needed to post a letter and so I didn't just pick the shortest line this time. A few weeks ago, I found myself stuck between two gates, unable to go one way toward Jerusalem or the other way back to Ramallah all while some 19-year-old soldier behind the gate controls was presumably having a good laugh safely tucked on the other side of all that bullet proof glass and hidden cameraworks. So this time, I went all the way to the end to the one and only terminal that leads to the post office. There were about 10 or so people waiting and no soldier in sight, nobody was crossing and some old lady with a cane and a village style embroidered dress had given up and was sitting on the floor right next to the metal turnstile. So I turn to some random guy and ask him how long everyone has been waiting. A half hour he says. I ask if anyone has gone though and he says no. I'd like to say that our conversation was as easy to understand as I'm relaying it right now, but in fact, a few times this guy tried to switch languages, presumably to communicate a little easier. He insists that he speaks Hebrew well but I tell him that my Hebrew is just like my Arabic so sorry, switching to the language that would surely get me a lot of stares isn't going to help. So as I understand it, he tells me to use another line and I explain that I need the post office. He continues to give me advice and assures me that I can get to the post office using one of the other terminals. Against my better judgment, I agree to get in another line. He tells me that he wants to give me his phone number so that when I cross the checkpoint I should tell the soldiers that there are a bunch of people waiting over here. Anyhow, I think this is what's going on, but I tell him that first of all, I'm sure the soldiers already know that there are people waiting here, and second, why exactly should I give his phone number to some soldier? I can't tell if it's his Arabic that I don't understand or his logic. Finally he says, ok, the phone number is for me. I laughed and got in line, but a minute later he comes to my line and tells me that the other one has started to move and again, insists that I should call him if I ever need any help or any friends. All I had to say was that this whole phone number incident is mish aadi and that was enough for him to get the hint (not the bint). So Kamal, thanks for your help at the hajiz but I'm an old fashioned kind of girl. If our mothers introduced us, maybe we could have had a future together, but contrary to what my Zionist, spamming, second-cousin-once-removed thinks, I see no maternal qualities in the State of Israel and its military machine, checkpoints included.

Glossary:
shab = young guy
bint = girl (and incidentally, also "daughter" and "queen")
mish aadi = not normal or not customary
hajiz = checkpoint (though Palestinians will also use an Arabized version of the Hebrew ... mahsoum)