The road has started to look somewhat familiar, winding down into an enormous barren valley that swallows up the land and expands in front of the eyes like a giant painting. We pulled in to the stationary checkpoint right outside of Bethlehem. Once again we were all asked for our identification but this time the soldier walked them all over to the small command post where another soldier sat at a desk. After 10 minutes the soldier reappeared with all our ID's in hand and waved the driver over. The soldier handed the green Palestinian ID's to the driver but held my blue passport aloft and said something to the driver. Then the driver, a short round Palestinian was waving to the taxi for me to get out. My heart leapt into my mouth and I hopped out of the vehicle and walked over to the soldiers. I tried to keep my walk casual.

One soldier greeted me in English and asked me my name, then where I was from. He asked where I was going and I said "Ramallah" to watch a basketball game. He looked down at my passport and asked me where I was staying, I said "Bethlehem". He asked if I worked with the people in the taxi, 7 Palestinians, and I explained that I was visiting Bethlehem for a few weeks and loved basketball, that I had heard there was a game in Ramallah and had found a ride in this taxi. The seconds seemed like hours as he looked at me then glanced back down at my passport...me...passport. He said something else and I had to catch myself before I said "Shu?" which is Palestinian Arabic for "What?" He repeated his question, "Who is your favorite basketball team." I smiled through my nerves and answered, "Chicago Bulls of course". He smiled (finally) and told me that the Lakers were better and handed me back my passport. I waited until the taxi was well on its way down the road before letting out a sigh. All the people in the vehicle looked back at me and Abdallah (who spoke the best English in the taxi) asked me what happened.

Later when we passed through that same checkpoint on the way back after my head coaching debut in Ramallah (which had its own set of complications that I may write about later) I, again, was singled out for my American passport traveling on this specific road with Palestinians. This time the guard didn't speak English and only spoke a little Arabic (which I still have to feign that I don't speak either) so it took a few extra minutes for him to finally hand my passport back through the window and wave us on our way with his flashlight.

I can't truly understand what these checkpoints mean, this lack of freedom of movement and constant scrutiny. The other day we were told that an unmanned drone had been flying over Bethlehem for surveillance. In a way, here, you are constantly being watched. The military posts dot the tops of the hillsides as you drive around the country. I am not Palestinian; I will never experience or understand what it means to be under occupation. I am not Israeli or Jewish: I will never understand the racism and violence that has polluted their history...Nothing that I experience will ever bring me to that point and, probably, the worst thing that can happen to me here is that I will be shipped back to America (land of the free written with a hint of sarcasm)...There is so much rolling around in my head...

So as we finally were past the checkpoints and on our way up the road through Beit Sahur and back to Dheisheh I couldn't quite get into the spirit of the players around me who were singing songs together in Arabic led by one of the older men who had come along to cheer the team. The deep melodic chanting like notes combined with rhythmic clapping and laughter celebrating the 25 point victory. I listened to them singing but my mind was trying to come to terms with what I had experienced...