The Foreign Service Journal, February 2003

F E N R U A R Y 2 0 0 3 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 57 esh lecha neshek? (Do you have a weapon?)” the young woman in Israel Defense Force uni- form with sergeant’s insignia asked as I approached her this past October along the ‘seam’ boulevard between Jewish Jerusalem and Arab Jerusalem, not far below the Russian Compound. I had been walking from the U.S. consulate general office in East Jerusalem, so she had seen me approach from a part of Jerusalemwhere the population was primarily Arab. And since I was wearing a sport coat even though it was a warm day, I fit enough of a profile to draw her attention. By appearance and dress, I could as easily be Arab or Jewish as what I was: an American Christian tourist, a retired FSO of German-Irish heritage walking back to my volunteer job in West Jerusalem with a new passport. “Yesh lecha neshek?” she repeated in Sabra-inflected Hebrew. This was a fair question to ask of a Jewish Israeli coming back from the eastern side of the city, but a hostile one from a soldier if she expects an answer in Arabic. Her companion, another young woman in uniform, moved the aim of her heavy Galil assault rifle to my feet. I came to a stop, kept my hands out from my side, answered in English, “no weapon, just walking to Yafo Street.” “Darcon (pass- port)?” she asked. Both women, neither more than 20 years old, had ammo clips fully loaded in their weapons. I saw their companion prone on top of a wall a few meters up the street, his Galatz rifle with a scope. There must have been an alert; perhaps they were looking for a suicide bomber or other terrorist going to the western side that day. That’s probably why this street along the seam was empty, I realized. The roving checkpoints along and near the seam come and go, and when alerts are high, nervous police or IDF units have weapons at the ready. So Arab residents generally avoid them if they can. “Ken, yesh li darcon [Yes, I have a passport],” I replied, switching to Hebrew. “I have a passport, it is inside my jack- et. I am going to reach inside and take it out, OK?” The sergeant nods, her companion holds the rifle pointed to the ground, not wanting me any nearer. A moment’s grappling inside the tight pocket for the stiff new passport, and I lean forward, hand it fingertip to fingertip to the sergeant. She A N FSO WHO FIRST SERVED IN I SRAEL IN 1966 AND HAS OFTEN RETURNED REFLECTS ON THE CHANGES THERE . H IS SAD CONCLUSION ? T HE DREAM OF A UNIFIED J ERUSALEM AS A CITY OF PEACE WITH OPEN ACCESS BY ALL PEOPLES AND FAITHS IS SLIPPING AWAY . B Y K ENNETH S TAMMERMAN J ERUSALEM D IVIDED “ Y Kenneth Stammerman, an FSO from 1966 to 1994, served in Tel Aviv (twice), Manila, OECD Paris, Kuwait, Dhahran, and in several domestic assignments. Since retirement he has run his own consulting firm specializing in online systems management. He also lectures on foreign affairs topics in his retirement home, Louisville, Ky. He currently divides his time between Louisville and Jerusalem. The author standing in front of the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. The Western “Wailing” Wall of the Temple is in the foreground, with the golden-domed Dome of the Rock in the background.