Crossing Borders

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Crossing Borders

The beat-up Arab minivan slowed tentatively under the scrutinizing gaze of the Israeli soldier on duty. The routine was simple. About halfway between Damascus Gate in East Jerusalem and Ramallah, the West Bank commercial center, the driver, blaring Arabic music on his radio, maneuvered around the dusty slabs of concrete that composed the Beit Haninah Checkpoint. He waited for a once-over by the Hebrew-speaking 18-year-old and permission to continue. Checkpoints-usually just small tin huts with a prominent white and blue Israeli flag-have become an integral and accepted part of Palestinian existence under Israeli occupation. But for me, a silent passenger in the minivan, each time we entered the no man's land between Israeli territory and the West Bank, my hea...

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... by years of resentment and bloodshed. I have returned with a renewed energy for my studies and a determination to use these studies to contribute in the future-to both grassroots work and international diplomacy. As I continue on my journey, I will surely encounter more nervous checkpoint moments, stimulating the moral and social reflections that have become part of my border crossings.

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