To 443 or not to 443?

January 30, 2010 - 7:05 PM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Israeliness, War 

With Highway 443, the road that runs between Jerusalem and Modi’in through the West Bank, all over the news lately, I was reminded of the events that led to 443 being closed to Palestinian traffic nearly ten years ago.

We had been invited to a barbeque at the house of friends in Modi’in. On the day of the party, the news reported that Highway 1, the main road out of Jerusalem, was jammed and there were hour-long back-ups. The solution seemed easy enough: we’d just take the alternative highway – Highway 443.

Except that nothing is that simple in Israel.

Since the second intifada broke out in 2000, we had avoided traveling on certain roads, specifically those that pass by areas where there had been terror attacks. 443 had been the site of many such tragic incidents, from ambush killings, drive by shootings, to frequent firebombs.

443 was closed to Palestinian traffic in 2002 – the controversial act that led to this month’s Supreme Court decision ordering the army to re-open back the road within six months. Even with the traffic ban, we weren’t comfortable with the drive. But we were already running late for the barbeque. Sitting in traffic would have meant we’d miss all the fun. And definitely the chicken wings.

With no small amount of trepidation, we opted to take the fast track. We were immediately struck by its stark, barren beauty. The rolling hills with their jagged rock formations, the long stone terraces that always look to me to be thousands of years old.

My wife Jody rolled down her window. The road was open, traffic was flowing, the mountain air smelled crisp with just a hint of the salt from the Mediterranean Sea, already visible in the distance.

Then, out of the blue, we came to a stop. I quickly noticed that no cars were coming in the other direction either. Something had happened.

People turned off their car engines, got out and stretched their legs. A man opened his back door and out sprang a scraggly black dog who instantly jumped the fence to go for a run on the empty other side of the road. The sounds of the muezzin from a nearby village echoed through the valley.

We turned on the radio. Galgalatz was reporting that a hefetz hashud – a suspicious object – had blocked the road.

In the midst of our waiting, a totally chutzpadik taxi driver decided he couldn’t wait and started to push his way to the front. Honking ferociously, he yelled to the other cars to start up their engines and move to the right so he could squeeze by on the almost non-existent left-side shoulder.

It was not like he was going to get past the roadblock. What was he looking for? A half a minute’s lead-time over all the rest of us freiers?

And then, after about 40 minutes of frustration, BOOM. Not deafening, but still loud enough to rattle us. The police robot used to zap suspicious objects had apparently taken a bite, and something on the menu had a kick to it.

The traffic started up again. Slowly we snaked down the road, anxiously craning our necks to see what the cause of all the commotion was. I imagined something minor, maybe a small package, a garbage bag or even a suitcase forgotten the side of the road.

It was a car. An old Subaru, left abandoned, and now a smoldering wreck. That was big…had it been blown apart by the robot or was there a bomb inside? I couldn’t stop myself from thinking: what if it had gone off just as we were passing? On the very day – no, the only day – in the many years that we chose to go this way?

Since that incident, the intifada has faded and so have our fears. We travel 443 regularly. But what will happen when the road is reopened to traffic from Ramallah and other points in the PA, we wonder? Will we – and other nervous Israelis – pack back onto Highway 1? Was that, perhaps, the reason a new exit was recently opened entering Modi’in from the south?

Summer is still far away, but the annual barbeque is already calling. I suppose our decision will be made based on if we’re on time or not.

And whether they’re running out of chicken wings.

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Reserved revelry of the times

January 7, 2009 - 7:28 AM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: coexistence, Crime, General, History and Culture, Israeliness, Life, Travel, War 

highway 443With a population of around 67,100 and proximity to both Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, Modiin is one of the larger suburbs of Israel. The city is located very close to the Green Line, though, making for some awkward situations for Israeli-Arab relations in the neighborhood – especially along the 443 highway, a major commuter thoroughfare. This isn’t a band of fringe settlers butting heads with nationalist Arab elements. Like the Kfar Saba-Qalqilya juxtaposition, it’s mainstream Israel in close quarters with villages.

Terror-resembling hate crimes have taken place in the area many times over the years (including these four incidents from 2000, 2001, 2002 and 2003, during the Second Intifada). This past March, long before the wave of violence that kicked off last month, the high court defended arrangements which basically ban Palestinians from using the 443 in order to minimize its exposure to terror. And since the war in the south has escalated, there have been stoning incidents, Molotov cocktails and even a stabbing.

Anyone reading this blog knows that in times like these, life goes on. In general, incidents like the aforementioned don’t keep Israelis from going about their business, much like the way that regular shootings and muggings in American inner cities don’t keep Americans from going about theirs. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t take precautions. We do.

A friend of mine who lives close to me in Modiin attended a party last night in Jerusalem, and while he didn’t drink, so as to maximize safety on the journey home, his sister did. Quite inebriated, her head was spinning from the drive, which, as we all know, has the potential to cause vomiting. Cruising along the 443, my friend found himself in a bind. He did not want his car to get all vomited out, and he wanted to comply with his sister’s wishes for a break in the motion, but on the other hand, it was the middle of the night and he was within rock-throwing range of more than one Arab village.

So yes, in times like these, we keep working, living and even sometimes partying as if there were no conflict. But that doesn’t mean the conflict doesn’t color our judgment and impact our actions. And in case you were wondering, the way he tells it, my friend’s solution was to pull over for his sister to vomit out the car door for two minutes at a time, and only when she really really needed him to. She used a plastic bag the rest of the time.

Photo of the 443 highway courtesy Michaeli via Wiki Commons.

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