15/11/2008
 
After waiting many long, tiring months, I was told that I would travel on bus number 25.  I was amazed as two months ago I had been told I would travel on bus number 9.  But I thought that wouldn’t matter, as the border crossing was to be open for three days.
 
I was overjoyed – like a child whose parents have promised him a holiday!  I almost wrote to my close friends ‘Dear friends, I am going to the land of the Nile’ but instead I chose to keep the matter secret and prepare myself for the journey.
 
I woke early that morning and did some work at home which I had left until the last minute.  I checked I had all my important possessions with me, and then I went out to catch the bus.  There were just three buses.  Bus 25 was full – only a few places remained, those passengers normally avoid sitting on, those beside the window with no curtain so the sun shines on the passengers heads, or those besides the door where cold air flows in whenever the door opens.
 
The ground besides the bus was filled with bags, I could barely find a place to leave my bag, and other passengers all trampled over people’s bags.  Unfortunately my poor bag didn’t cope well, it ripped and some of my clothes fell out – for the rest of the journey I worried that more my possessions would fall out of the torn bag. 
 
About 1pm the bus approached the crossing, and just as happened in my last journey two months ago, some other bus tried to overtake our bus – people were swearing at the driver, but he didn’t care, and when we complained to the police they didn’t care either.  When we arrived at the last station we complained again and finally the other bus was made to move behind our own bus – we were glad of this.
 
Then we entered the customs hall, and paid our money.  We were treated with respect, as if we were tourists – the only place we were paid complete respect – perhaps because of the amount of money we had paid.  Our passports were stamped, and by then it was 3pm and we went to the Egyptian gate.
 
There were four buses before us, and they were not moving quickly.  We knew that at 8pm the border would close.  We decided if that were to happen it would be best to stay until the next day. 
 
So we began to prepare ourselves to sleep right there.  We got off the bus and found that outside the weather was very cold.  On our right were some cypress trees, and to our other side stood a tree, its trunk painted white like a tombstone.
 
My friend and I wandered around to find a comfortable place to sit, but we were unable to find one and so settled for some dry grass, but even that contained many sharp thorns.
 
Soon a person came by, his car filled with milk, bread, juice, cigarettes and more.  Cigarettes are the most gratifying things – I almost danced for joy!  I remembered I had not eaten since that morning, so I planned to buy some food.  But people had already surrounded the food, and I was unable to get close.  The seller asked everyone to line up in a queue, and said he would refuse to sell anything until people had formed a queue.
 
One of the officers approached and invited the seller to come into their control booth near the gate.  The man transferred his goods to the control booth, and people surrounded the room.  I saw my friend Mahmoud inside the booth, looking around deliberately as if in a supermarket.  I signaled to him what I wanted, and went to sit down.  Shortly after Mahmoud arrived carrying milk, bread and juice.
 
My friend Mahmoud is a sociable person – he is as fond of acquiring friends as a writer is of acquiring books!  Except when he is studying – then he does not like contact with anyone!  Many times if I wondered where Mahmoud was, I would find him standing with a new person talking and smoking as though they were close friends, even though I knew they had met just minutes before.
 
After I had eaten I was feeling cold – clearly other people were cold too because many were returning to the bus.  I decided to return to the bus too, incase someone else took my seat.  But Mahmoud stayed outside, not caring whether could stand or sit on the bus.
 
I returned to my seat, and tried to sleep.  I slept almost half an hour, then woke up looking at my clock and thinking how slowly time was passing, then slept half an hour before waking again to look at the clock.  This continued until dawn.  At one point I saw some people praying in a group on the grass.  I went to join them, but I was barely able to stand on the wet grass as it was full of sharp brambles.  A person who came to pray without noticing the sharp thorns cried out when the thorns pricked his knees and forehead in Sijood.
 
I quickly went back to the bus, my socks wet from the grass.  I sat on the bus trying to sleep again so I would not feel how slowly time passed.  Eventually I saw the sun rise.
 
I saw a young man sitting at the front of the bus, changing into a clean gown.  His hair was black, and there was a smell of perfume like a bridegroom on wedding night as he stood up to comb his hair.  Mahmoud was smoking at the door of the bus with his new friend, gesturing with his hands in the air as he spoke. 
 
At 9.30 the buses began to move, and we crossed the Egyptian border.  Egyptian soldiers appeared in front of our bus.  We stopped in front of a big hall, above the door was written the phrase “Enter Egypt Safely”.  Officers came to us and ordered us to stand in a queue, warning that anyone who failed to comply with their instructions would not enter Egypt.  Some other workers came and started throwing our bags to the ground with no care for what was inside.
 
Each person moved slowly to the door.  We then entered the hall, which had clearly just been washed and smelled of Detol.  The floor was covered in black lines because of the footprints of people who had stood here before.  We each went to the officer sitting behind a window and handed them our passports.
 
We then waited until they called us.  After about half an hour I saw a soldier carrying a package of passports in his hands.  He was surrounded by people waiting to hear the names, but we could barely hear the names because of the noise in the large hall.  The soldier called a name, someone responded, then the soldier would repeat it more loudly so everyone could hear the name.  I began to wonder why not install a small microphone in the hall, it would certainly be easier than shouting the names like this.  And why not provide chairs in the hall so we could sit comfortably?
 
Then I heard my name called.  The soldier asked me “why do you want to go to Egypt?”  I replied immediately “to study.”  He responded “give me proof of that?”  I offered him my official papers, which I knew were required to prove why I wanted to enter Egypt.
 
The soldier walked away and was absent for a long time.  Then I saw one of the officers turning the pile of passports over, as a baker would turn over hot bread in an oven.  He quickly read my papers, and then put my passport with some others on a table to his right.  He took someone else’s passport and put it on a table to his left.  “My God” I thought, “I just want to know which side is good luck and will allow me to enter Egypt!”
 
But then I just felt I would not be allowed to enter Egypt that day, so I returned to sit in the hall without paying attention to the names of those allowed to travel to Egypt being called out, as I was so certain my name would not be among them.
 
I sat beside one person who seemed despondent as he had not been allowed to enter Egypt.  I struck up a conversation with him.  He was so nice – he told me that he was a communications engineer with a master’s degree, and had been trying for nearly two years to enter Egypt to study for his doctorate.  But for two years he had been prevented.
 
In his sad voice he commented “I swear by Allah, nothing affected me except one thing on this trip!”  I asked him “what was that?” and he replied “my daughter will be married next January, and when she came to see me off she was crying ‘oh Dad, is it not enough that you did not see me when I was born, now you will also not see me when I am married.’”
 
His voice seemed very sad and he looked at the ground as his eyes became wet with tears.  Then he remarked “I swear by Almighty God, if I am sent back this time, I will not come back to Egypt again.”
 
He was a young and attractive man, in his forties, willowy with a black mustache.  He was a security officer in the Palestinian Authority who had applied for early retirement two years ago. 
 
At that moment his wife telephoned.  He spoke gently with her, he seemed to hope to calm her with his kind words.  He joked with her, which made me smile from time to time.  
 
When we went to pray al zohr we could not find any water or a place to pray, so I postponed to pray it with alasr.
 
I saw patients walking, learning on their relatives, some with plastic tubes coming from their noses or arms, some with plaster casts on their limbs.  I was impressed at their patience and endurance.  Each was waiting for a medical examination to determine whether they were lying about their illness!
 
Then suddenly one person said “they are calling the names.”  We all stopped to listen to the names.  One officer stood, with the passports piled high in a paper box.  The officer ordered everyone to be silent, and said as each person’s name was called they were to collect their bag from him. 
 
It was strange – people thought their name being shouted meant they were permitted to enter Egypt, when really it meant they were being made to return to their homes.  When people’s names were called they were told to leave the hall, surrounded by soldiers, pass through the door above which was written ‘Enter Egypt Safely’, and then get back on to the bus. 
 
My name was called, and I collected my torn bag with my possessions falling out.  I asked the officer for my passport then returned to the bus.
 
I sat on the bus, surrounded by many other passengers, each moving slowly as though they were a step closer to death. 
 
Our passports were returned to us, and I turned to the back page to find written in red dark, bold letters, in both Arabic and English “Cancelled”.