Bethlehem, Jerusalem and a friend in Gaza

I see Gaza collapsing, and children dying. A million Gazans are fleeing, as the war burns their homes down

- Sandeep Raina

It’s been a year since we were in Israel, all my family, for a holiday. I am compelled to write now because I just saw videos of a bombed down Gaza. I am looking for the face of my friend Taufiq, who lives in Gaza. I dread seeing his face covered in blood, or his maimed body.

LAST year, we went to visit Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, in the West Bank. Avi, our Jewish guide, said that Israel ended here, and he could not come with us. We were on our own. This brought a thrill as well as fears. We entered a tunnel-like hall with bright white lights, red guidelines and signs in Hebrew and Arabic. I hurried down, my footsteps echoing, my heartbeat loud. I have crossed borders many times—some difficult ones like IndiaPakistan on foot—but this didn’t feel like a border. No one at either end of the tunnel checked our passports or questioned us.

Tall metal gates opened into the West Bank. Narrow roads wound around hills, their limestone slopes swathed with creamy stone buildings. The streets bustled, packed with shops. Men, women and children went about their lives, buying, selling, talking, and laughing. A faded poster on a graffiti wall mentioned a young boy killed in gunfire in 2016. Our taxi sped up and down the hills towards the church where Jesus was born.

John, our Palestinian Christian guide, hummed Hindi songs to make us feel home. He said, “I go to Jerusalem on Christmas.” He didn’t have a permit for other days. The distance between Bethlehem and Jerusalem is 11 km—a border that had let my family through; kept its own people apart.