Marriage is a venerable institution, particularly in more traditional societies. Many members of society, especially those who are mothers, believe that it is an institution that has not only to be protected, but also actively promoted.
Many of us know mothers who are legendary for the lengths to which they will go to see their offspring comfortably ensconced in a marriage. But what happens in the trenches of war when bullets are buzzing about your head and plumes of gas to wreak havoc on your lungs; when life itself is at risk? Does marriage come to mind?
Earlier this month, on August 11, in tortured Palestine, an operation against the Israeli occupation by the Palestinian resistance was aborted at the Qalandia checkpoint near Ramallah when the fedayeen (Palestinian militants) realised, because of the increased presence of occupation forces on the roads around the checkpoint, that they might have been betrayed to the Israelis.
The fedayeen abandoned their booby-trapped car a distance from the checkpoint and detonated it remotely when Israeli soldiers approached it. In the resulting explosion, two Palestinian passers-by were killed and six Israeli soldiers injured.
As soon as news of the bombing broke, all Palestine braced itself for the collective punishment that, reminiscent of Nazi practices in Europe, was bound to follow, bringing hardship and suffering to innocent Palestinian civilians.
In a frenzy, people started phoning their family and friends to reassure themselves and to make whatever preparations were necessary.
When my colleague, Samia, heard of the bombing at her office in Ramallah from her 17-year-old daughter, Miral, she became quite anxious for her husband, Towfeek and her 16-year-old daughter, Tamara.
Towfeek was at work at Bir Zeit University, north of Ramallah. There were reports that a blockade had been set up at Surda, between Bir Zeit and Ramallah, and no traffic was being allowed through in either direction.
Samia was even more concerned about Tamara, who was at her summer job in Jerusalem. Qalandia, the only other entry point to Ramallah would surely be sealed. How would Tamara come home?
Under the Israeli classification system, Tamara is a Jerusalemite. Like the South African race classification system under apartheid, the government of Israel maintains a hierarchical classification system for its subjects that grants privileges and imposes limits on every aspect of a subject’s life, including where they may live and work, the kind of jobs they may hold, their earning power, their freedom to travel and even the basic human rights they may enjoy.
As a Jerusalemite Tamara is higher on the classification scale than compatriots classified as West Bankers, but not as high as Palestinians who are Israeli. Israeli Jews are way higher than all other groups.
Tamara, unlike her West Bank mother and sister, enjoys the privilege of being able to travel to Jerusalem. As a result, she has access to more jobs and better pay. On that day, however, being able to work in Jerusalem didn’t seem like such an attractive option.
Palestinians have learned the importance of cellphones for maintaining contact during the frequent invasions and closures they experience, which leave individuals stranded for hours in dangerous conditions. Fortunately, Samia was able to connect with her daughter’s cellphone.
Tamara had managed to reach Qalandia from Jerusalem. It was chaotic there, with hundreds of people milling around the closed checkpoint. There were mothers with infants, sick people going to or returning from medical appointments; elderly men and women bent over in the heat and dust; schoolchildren fidgety in their uniforms and with loaded knapsacks on their backs; and ordinary men and women going home after a hard day’s work.
The Israelis were in no mood to let anyone through. As the frustration levels rose and tempers flared, the soldiers responded by firing their weapons and tear gas canisters.
When Miral had heard that Tamara was at Qalandia she had rushed to meet her when she was allowed through. She knew how traumatic the experience could be. However, with the checkpoint closed, it was like having the combined walls of Berlin, China and Israel thrown up between them.
When the firing began Miral ran for cover and threw herself down behind a concrete barrier. She huddled there fearfully as another woman dived for safety beside her. During a lull in the firing, as they watched a gas cloud slowly drifting away, the woman turned to Miral and asked, ”Are you at school?”
”No,” answered Miral, not quite understanding the question.
”Are you engaged?” the woman asked.
”No”, answered Miral, more puzzled.
The woman looked hopeful. ”Then can I get your parents’ telephone number?” she asked.
Understanding finally dawning, Miral asked, ”Who do you want me to get engaged to?”
The woman beamed, ”I want you to marry my son. You’re such a beautiful girl.”
Displaying great presence of mind, Miral responded as gently as she could: ”I think that you should let your son find his own beautiful girl to marry. As for me, let me go to university and continue my studies.”
While the woman was probably not very happy with Miral’s answer, Samia’s day ended happily enough around midnight.
Tamara had been spotted at the checkpoint by an aunt’s colleague. She was informed that her aunt was at the nearby Ar Ram office of her company where she had been attending a meeting for the first time in almost a year, only to be stranded by the closure.
With the help of the colleague, Tamara was able to join her aunt. A few hours later the checkpoint was reopened and they were all able, eventually, to reach home safely.
After waiting at his office for several hours Towfeek decided to drive to Surda at about 8pm. Long lines of cars were parked at the roadside in the dark and people of all ages were squatting dejectedly on the ground. Only women and children were being allowed through. Towfeek hung about until close to midnight when the blockade was finally removed.
While one woman’s attempt to forge a marriage had ended in disappointment, Samia and Towfeek’s married relationship was safely reunited late that night.
Mohamed Bhabha is a South African living in Ramallah, Palestine, where he works with an international NGO in the field of education