
Flying Checkpoints
3 July 2005
There’s a checkpoint between Birzeit and Ramallah. Out of the blue. Up until this moment, everything seemed normal: the honking of taxis, the flow of traffic over snakelike mountain roads, the odd calm of drivers as they vie for imagined lanes on hairpin curves. Suddenly it bottlenecks, then halts. “Hajiz,” shouts a taxi driver coming from the opposite direction. Checkpoint. The calm is replaced with frustration, both audible and visible. Arms flail out of car windows. Honking becomes more frequent. A baby, which until now I hadn’t noticed, cries in the back of my taxi. A gust of bluish bus exhaust empties into my open window. Nausea takes hold. Read more about Flying Checkpoints