The slow road to Jerusalem
On your way to the holy city, there is one snack that you must buy
Sameer Rahim
The view from King Hussein/Allenby Bridge: Sameer Rahim
The bus driver taking us from Amman towards Jerusalem was playing Fairuz’s lament for the Holy Land’s “city of prayers.” I must have heard the Lebanese diva’s song a dozen times while in Jordan. It was a week since US President Donald Trump declared Jerusalem to be Israel’s capital, and tensions were simmering in the country that lost the eastern half of the city in 1967. Approaching the King Hussein/ Allenby Bridge, the current border between Jordan and Israel/Palestinian Territories, our driver turned up the volume.
The bridge has a chequered history. It was constructed by the British in 1918, a year after General Allenby entered Jaffa Gate and claimed Jerusalem. A Jewish militant group blew it up in 1946, and it again fell victim to war in 1967. After King Hussein and Yitzhak Rabin made peace in 1994, it was rebuilt with Japanese help. Now it’s a busy entry and exit point for Palestinians, as well for a motley group of foreigners seduced by the city’s mystique. Jerusalem, despite what Trump says, doesn’t belong to one people—or one state. The Israeli border official told me I’d been selected for a security interview. A British passport bearing my name raises eyebrows in the Middle East. For some reason, Arab officials think I’m from Afghanistan. Israeli questioning is more sophisticated.