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checkpoint is located and travelled by a back road to bring us in from the east.
    We arrived only to discover that the IDF had set up a checkpoint east of the city as well. It was manned by an armed Israeli patrol that didn’t appear to be letting anyone through. We watched them turn away three vehicles in quick succession. When our turn came, I was ready with my credentials. I held my passport and Israeli press card against the window for the soldiers to see. One of them leaned over, looked at my documents and stepped back. I expected him to wave me away. Instead, he lifted his M16 and fired a short burst on the ground near the side of our car. Firing at us was a scare tactic and it worked on my taxi driver. He practically shit himself. The driver turned the car around and started heading back towards Jerusalem. I offered him 200 US dollars to get me into Ramallah via another route, but he refused. ‘Those fuckers shoot at anyone,’ he said. ‘I go back to my family in east Jerusalem and you go back to hotel.’
    I called Will to let him know what had happened and told him I’d try to get to Ramallah the next morning – with a different driver. I booked back into the hotel and went outside to the taxi stand to see if I could find a willing candidate. I found a group of drivers standing around. I asked them if anyone was up for driving me into Ramallah the next morning. A young, slim lad with a broken nose and cheeky expression stepped forward.
    ‘I do it,’ he said.
    His name was Walid and he claimed to know several back routes into the city. I asked him if he would get scared if Israeli soldiers tried to stop us.
    ‘Nobody scare Walid. Walid brave man,’ he said, thumping his chest.
    ‘You’ve got the job, mate,’ I said and we shook on it.
    I woke early the next morning after a restless night’s sleep. In my mind, I couldn’t stop replaying the incident with the soldier at the checkpoint. It was the first time in my life I’d been fired on without having the ability to fire back. I had never operated in a hostile environment without a weapon. It felt like my arms had been cut off. It was a strange and horrible experience but one I’d get used to soon enough.
    I loaded my black duffel bag into the back of the ‘brave’ Walid’s taxi but kept my day sack containing my medical kit with me up front. I wanted self-aid at hand in case we ran into any more trigger-happy IDF soldiers.
    We travelled the route I’d taken the day before, approaching the city from the east. The checkpoint was still up and a queue of cars had formed. As we inched towards it, I studied a large chalk quarry beside the road. It appeared to stretch right into Ramallah. I asked Walid if there was a track in the quarry that led to the city. He said if there was then the IDF surely would have blocked it off with one of its giant armoured bulldozers.
    As we neared the checkpoint, it was apparent from the vehicles turning around that the Israelis weren’t letting anyone through. When it was our turn to try, we were told to leave as well. I got out of the taxi and asked the checkpoint commander why I couldn’t get into the city when I held an Israeli press pass.
    ‘The town is a closed military area,’ he said.
    It was an answer I’d hear again and again.
    I got back into the taxi and asked Walid to drive a mile back up the road and let me out.
    ‘Why? What are you going to do?’ he asked.
    I pointed towards the quarry. ‘I’m going to walk through there into Ramallah.’
    Walid smiled. ‘Bob, you are fucking crazy. The soldiers, they will shoot you.’
    I asked Walid to pull off the road and into a lay-by. I paid him the agreed fare and told him if he waited there until Will arrived, there’d be an extra two hundred dollars in it for him.
    ‘If the soldiers come, drive off and come back an hour later,’ I said.
    Walid took the money and shook my hand.
    ‘Bissalama,’ he said. ‘Have a safe journey.’
    I threw my day sack