Four Palestinians

By William Scanlan, Jr.

When abstract perceptions change, it is usually the result of meeting the flesh-and-blood people concerned. In my case, it took only four of them.

I met them all in the spring of 1983 while my wife and I were on a one-month tour of ancient sites in the Middle East. A few months earlier, we had almost cancelled our long-planned Middle East trip as we, like most Americans, watched with mounting disbelief the televised destruction and slaughter that accompanied the Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the bombing of Beirut. Nonetheless we made the trip.

Abu Sultan

We met our first flesh-and-blood Palestinian in Amman. He bore little resemblance to the ogre of US media stereotyping. Instead, he was helpful, friendly, and charming. As we got to know Abu Sultan, however, one point became very clear. Although he was born in Amman, he didn't view himself as a Jordanian. His home was in Jaffa. He acknowledged that he had only seen it in photographs, and he might not live long enough to see it in person. But he was convinced that, God willing, his children would have the opportunity to return to their Palestine.

Maha Elias

In Amman we also had our first experience with the legendary Arab hospitality. One of my solemn commitments was to return from the trip with Boy Scout patches for my son from the places we had visited. I explained this to a young Palestinian woman, Maha Elias, at the hotel guest relations desk. After making numerous calls, she informed me that the man who had Boy Scout patches was out of town. She said, however, that her nephew was a scout. Since we were leaving for Jerusalem at 7 the next morning, I told her not to worry about it any longer, and my wife and I went to dinner. When we returned, under the door to our room was a small envelope containing a used and obviously much loved Jordanian Boy Scout patch that had just been removed from the nephew's uniform.

As the trip progressed, the more Palestinians we met, the more we realized that, like us, all had their own goals and aspirations. But, among their aspirations, there was always Palestine.

Robert

It is less than 50 miles from Amman to Jerusalem, as the crow flies, but the overland trip can easily take most of the day. The geographical part of the problem is a descent into the Jordan Valley, followed by an ascent up the escarpment to Jerusalem. The political part of the problem is much more serious, and involves a long wait between descent and ascent for Jordanian security checks to exit, and Israeli security checks to enter.

On the bus trip down to the Jordan River I sat next to a young man with an obvious Australian accent on his way to Jerusalem. He asked what I knew about the Israeli security checks. I said it was my understanding that for westerners they shouldn't be any problem.

The Australian, Robert, responded: "I will probably get special treatment. I'm a Palestinian." I pointed out that he was traveling on an Australian passport. He explained that he was born in Jerusalem.

We crossed the Jordan and began the lengthy Israeli security check. Across the way from where I was being inspected, there was another large building. There Arabs were inspected. Up to that point, all of the passengers on the bus had been kept more or less together. But suddenly, as I turned to say something to Robert, he was nowhere to be found.

I never learned what happened to him, but I expect that he had been whisked away to the other building for his own private humiliation, out of sight of the Italian nuns and the American Bible Lands Tour Group members on his bus.

Musa Kamar

Once again it was the search for Boy Scout patches that led to new insights, this time in Arab Jerusalem. In the Christian quarter of the old city we had run across the familiar Boy Scout fleur-de-lis insignia. A young man there, Musa Kamar, assured us that if we returned the following day, he would have some patches for us.

The following day in his office he handed us some patches from the Arab Catholic Scouts of Jerusalem. The insignia and inscription, he noted, had been adopted when Arab Jerusalem was part of Jordan, and it was still being used. I asked if this inscription was satisfactory. No, he replied, he would much prefer a Palestinian patch. Then why, I asked, don't you design one?

With a dramatic gesture, he clapped his wrists together, palms facing, and said: "We would all be imprisoned. It is illegal under Israeli law for a Palestinian to wear any symbol of Palestinian nationalism."

That day in Jerusalem, I reflected on the incoherence of US Middle East policy: American tax-payers have given Israel nearly $60 billion in aid since 1948, yet our Middle Eastern "strategic asset" is not only unable to help us in the Persian Gulf, it lives in fear of a symbol that a pre-pubescent boy might wear on his Boy Scout uniform.

William Scanlan, Jr., is a San Antonio, TX-based attorney.