Land of the Free
Music plays in his mind like a soundtrack. It’s a familiar tune, from a film he thinks. The van he’s lying in the rear of is moving fast, and with every bump on the road he twitches with pain, for his ribs are broken. Feelings of resignation and rebellion rage within him. Fear too, for he knows what’s to come. Now, bound by plastic zip ties and a hood over his head, Hami thinks of his father. A few hours earlier he'd been walking home through the marketplace of the Old City of Hebron, under the wretched eye of settler and soldier alike. Noticing a group of internationals looking lost, he smiled their way. ‘Excuse me. English?’, asked a young man with a British accent. ‘No, Palestinian’, he answered with a cheeky smile. ‘And you?’ A little playful banter later and he invited them on a tour, as was his custom and source of income. Not far from a settlement checkpoint Hami was pointing out a building of historical significance, now a popular teahouse, when a car started