During The Second Intifada:
I lived in Jerusalem.
I saw two bombings.
I heard at least ten.
The city was blowing up every day.
I worked security and was expected to stop a suicide bomber if I encountered one, for 19 shekels an hour.
Many friends were shot and blown up.
I refused to stay home.
I left home not knowing if I would die that day, every day, for years.
I was hyper aware of everything and everyone around me for years.
I saw things no one should see. They stay with me to this day. There are times, like now, when I feel like it is still going on. I expect everything around me to explode.
We were blown up for years until the army went into Ramallah and Jenin and other places and they built a wall.
I lived downtown. I lived under siege. I survived. I was damaged. I relive it. And I go on.
I was treated in hospital for shock.
I am Israeli. We didn’t call it the Second Intifada. We just called it “The Situation.”
Every day is a situation. Every situation is a challenge. Thank God I was in the army.
I don’t like quiet. I don’t like white walls.
The Intifada still goes on in many of our minds.
Terror is war. It is for life. I carried wounded. I ran into the fire. I saw pieces of exploded car fly over my head. I heard cries of pain and fear. I lived horror.
I see things that would make people scream when I close my eyes.
The Intifada is still going on at times, in my mind. So do I.