When I landed in Jerusalem on February the 12th, I was mildly surprised to see just how many people in the airport terminal building wore masks around their faces. At that point in time, the Corona virus (It still hadn’t been given its COVID-19 designation) was something on the news that spoke of an illness in China, and something to be mindful of while traveling by air. Today as I write this, over a million people across the world have been diagnosed with the virus, and close to 61,000 individuals, have lost their lives. Currently in Jerusalem there are severe restrictions of movement, there are virtually zero restaurants or cafes open, and some of the cities holiest sites have seen a dramatic drop in worshippers. Just two months ago, this city welcomed me with all its religious splendour and enigmatic charm, whiletoday the streets lay deserted and all the city's locals isolate themselves in their homes. I cannot help but feel a sense of dejection that the outbreak had to occur just when I was able to fulfil my desire to write from this part of the world. But for what it’s worth, I do find myself in the unique position of being under lockdown in one of the most contested and fought over cities in the world.
Choosing to live in East Jerusalem during my time in the city was attributed to the predominantly Palestinian make-up of the area, my proximity to the Old City, and also due to the fact that my workplace is right across the street from my house. Initially I thought this would be extremely ideal since so many of the stories and articles I wished to work on would’ve involved interviewing Palestinians. Once Corona struck, not only was access to the Old City almost entirely shutoff, I couldn’t get a chance to sit down with someone for a coffee, or visit someone in their home for the articles I was working on. Also in East Jerusalem, each day is different in terms of how many security forces one can see on the streets, and how many places get cordoned off, which in my opinion depends on how the previous day's news has been reported. If the general consensus on a particular Tuesday is that there was a major spike in Jerusalem Coronavirus cases, then subsequently on the next day, one can see fewer people on the streets and more armed personnel. I myself have been stopped on a few occasions by Israeli forces, who ask general questions such as where I am going, or where do I live. However, once I start speaking in English with them, and they realize I am a foreigner, I am easily let off. I particularly remember at Damascus Gate, there was a day where a minor commotion was caused as several Palestinians tried to leave the Old City, but Israeli forces had barricaded the area and were not letting anyone through without intense rounds of questioning. When I walked up to a guard and said. “I came here to buy olive oil, and am now going home”, all of which I said in English, he asked me where I am from. The instant I said “India”, he moved aside and let me through. It seemed a quite obvious even during times like these; Palestinians aren’t spared from detentions and questioning.
I did by no stretch of the imagination predict that when I just got here, I would find this city’s streets as loud as the noises are back home. Be it the traffic and horns honking, or just large groups of people moving about in the city, I was constantly bothered with just how blaring the city can get. The same sounds that I rued before are the ones I currently long for. The sounds of worshippers on the Via Dolorosa, or the busy hustle and bustle of the Mahaneh Yehuda market; these are components of what makes a city come to life. I’ve been walking through these streets lately when circumstances allow me to, and all one can experience is an eerie silence. The fragrance in the spices market is all but gone, and the welcoming salesmen outside their shops have been replaced with closed shutters.
A grinding halt, but the city will once again come to life
As a journalist, it is my job to report on how life has changed in Jerusalem. It must be discussed how a once vibrant city has come to a grinding halt, and how its inhabitants are now restricted to the confines of their home. For days now I have been doing research about the Qalandiya crossing, and how the shutdowns and curfews have impacted those who use the crossing every day to make a living, and then go back home. However, in a time where everyone is asked to restrict their movements, including journalists, how am I to perform my job adequately? Now is the moment where I am being asked to write about the effects of the Coronavirus, but can I when I myself am affected by it so?
At the end of the day, I find myself still typing away on my laptop in Jerusalem. I am still trying to write in the part of the world that I aspired to be in as a college student. Even though I am under self-isolation, I have the works of Palestinian authors
Ghassan Kanafani, Mahmoud Darwish and Mourid Barghouti on the desk next to me to keep me company. One day when all this comes to an end, and yes, it will come to an end, I feel certain to find myself hunched over a table at a Jerusalem café,
taking notes in my notebook while hearing a subject speak for an article I will be working on. It’s only a matter of time. I do feel I have to reassure myself quite often these days, that my aspiration and desire to write about the Israeli-Palestinian issue has not gone down in vain, especially while I am in Jerusalem, and I can come out of this pandemic a better journalist, I feel certain that all of us, will come out of this as better people.