Ryan Borgen

A letter from Palestine to my fellow Americans

Catching a taxi to my apartment near Arafat’s compound in Ramallah the other night, the Palestinian driver’s immediate question concerned my nationality. “Germany?” he asked. No. “France?” No. “Switzerland?” No. “Italy?” No … Before he covered the rest of Europe, I somewhat sheepishly admitted, “America.” He cut to the chase: “Do you support Bush?” With an almost desperate note of pain in his voice, different from that of the jaded drivers I usually have, he asked me about occupied Palestine, about occupied Iraq. “Why does your country do this to us?” he asked me. “Are we bad?” “Am I no good?”