"I have always had the privilege of freedom"

My name is Margaret E. and I am a 21-year-old Canadian. I have never been told where I can or cannot go or live. I have always had the privilege of freedom.

My reality compared to a Palestinian is as different as comparing East and West. I wake up every morning, and the only thing on my mind is, "What am I going to eat when I get upstairs?" I eat, hop into a car and travel the 30 kilometers to work. I only leave 30 minutes before my shift begins. I do not need to worry that anything could prevent me from getting to work on time.

At a checkpoint in Bethlehem, the Sabeel conference group waited 45 minutes to pass thirty feet from the West Bank to just another portion of the West Bank, sectioned off from itself. We passed through three segregated gates with multiple ID and visa checks before we were admitted. This was just a blink of an eye compared to a typical rush hour wait. We were told that Palestinians get up and wait in line beginning at 3:30 to 4 o'clock in the morning until the gate opens at 7 AM, just to get to work on time. From this the question "why?" arises. Is it a protection for the Israelis from the "terrorists?" The so-called Palestinian terrorists did not have any arms until the second Intifada at the end of 2001.

When the group was returning from a visit to an NGO in Hebron, we encountered a true act of terrorism. While walking past a roadblock, it was brought to my attention that two Israeli soldiers were harassing three little Palestinian girls who lived just around the corner. I heard later that they had been threatening them with sticks and aggressively moving towards them to intimidate them. The children were backed up against a wall and the soldiers waved their guns casually at the children's feet. Some of the Palestinian participants began to yell at the soldiers in Arabic. The soldier suddenly switched his attention to the Palestinians in our group. He began to demand, "Are you Muslim; are you Christian?", pointing around the circle. The response from one of the Palestinians was profound and will remain ingrained on my heart forever. She said, "We are Christian, but why does it matter? Are we not all human?" Finally, the children were released, but one of the Palestinians was detained and his ID confiscated. This is reality. To speak up for injustice is to risk your own freedom.

My heart was heavy with questions. How long would the children have been harassed had we not intervened? How far would the soldiers have gone? The circumstances are so hard to put into words, since it was both a fateful blessing and an unjust necessity that we even needed to be there. It is an internal conflict that I will forever battle. The whole ordeal left a bitter and lasting taste in my mouth, and it was easy for anger to swell inside me to the point of insanity. Yet, I had to remind myself of my own injustices. Israelis walk around everyday knowing that this is happening, yet they ignore it. I cannot judge them, for how many times have I walked by a homeless person, a drug addict or another in need, and done nothing? How many more times will I do it? I cannot give an absolute answer that I will not ignore it again since my heart and my mind conflict with one another. Logically, I know that justice must be served, yet the reality of my environment makes me worry about little but materialistic problems.

So, where does this leave me? It leaves me with a promise that I will give my best, in whatever that form may be, and share this tragedy to help the world listen. I cannot promise perfection, since it does not exist, but my best is all I have to offer.

There is a point, somewhere, that the east in fact meets the west; and in that place is where I wish to stand.

-Margaret E., from Canada