I am in Zuzu’s car with Sama when we leave Jericho. We hand over our ID’s and passports again at the checkpoint. The soldier laughs and says, “Wow, so you’re traveling in-style,” nodding at Zuzu’s BMW. “Have a nice time here in Israel.”
Its dusk and we turn onto the road where we’re hoping the next checkpoint won’t be. The gun stand is empty and there are no concrete barriers. I catch my breath as we drive past.