It was 1:30am, on a still and quiet winter’s night. I lay awake in my Jericho home, nervous and restless. I couldn’t sleep. I had been trying for hours but it was useless.
Eventually, I got up and headed to a coffee shop, where one of my friends works, north of the Dead Sea. The small cafeteria there is called “Lido” it is connected to a gas station, and acts as a stopover for travelers and visitors passing through. It is a place fully secured and controlled by the Israeli authorities.
That night in Lido there were no visitors and it was very quiet. I sat alone drinking coffee and looking at the stars. Suddenly, I noticed a religious Jewish man carrying a bottle of gasoline beside the station. He seemed tense and worried. I looked at him, knowing that if I was to approach him, he may feel afraid because I am a Palestinian Arab… but I couldn’t ignore his obvious struggle! I couldn’t leave without knowing if there was something, I could do to help him.
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