A year ago I found myself outside a Jett bus office in Amman, Jordan. At six o’clock in the morning! It was cold and wet and the wind cut through me. A kiosk was open so I grabbed a tea and went into the office to wait for the coach, which arrived 40 minutes later. My destination was Jerusalem and I had been told it would take a good three hours to cross the border. I was feeling a little nervous at the prospect of a protracted ordeal, particularly as waiting and queuing are in the top five of my least favourite pastimes. But with Israeli border security watching your every move, I knew I had to make sure I showed no outward sign of frustration.
There were six of us and I immediately fell asleep only to be woken when we reached the Jordanian side of the border an hour later. We traipsed into a room, filled in our details and handed our passports to a border officer. We then returned to the bus and waited for about 20 minutes before being given back our passports. The bus travelled a further three miles before stopping again. We paid our departure tax to a soldier, then off again, this time crossing the tiny King Hussein Bridge, which marked the border between Jordan and Israel. I noticed a man in civilian clothes with a machine gun, then more men, all with guns.
We all got off and had to go through security. I was resigned to the inevitable long wait. We presented our passports. The woman looked at mine and asked me to sit on a chair. Everyone else had got through except me. I remained calm, I expected this given the number of times I’d been stopped at borders because I never look like my photo. Several minutes later, a man appeared, he asked me my name and asked if I’d assume the pose. I was nothing but civil and all smiles. They searched me. The soldier asked if I wanted a glass of water, I declined. Then he walked me to my bag and thanked me for my cooperation. I got my visa, which was not stamped on my passport but on a slip of paper. I was asked questions about where my family was from. In an effort not to look shifty I made sure to fix my most idiotic smile and that’s probably what helped get me through the process relatively quickly.
The rest of this article is only available to subscribers.
Access our entire archive of 350+ articles from the world's leading writers on Islam.
Only £3.30/month, cancel anytime.
Already subscribed? Log in here.
Not convinced? Read this: why should I subscribe to Critical Muslim?