I am standing on a street called Ha'anafa on the southern edge of this ancient city. Behind me, a five-storey apartment building made of the mandated limestone that gives this land such a pleasing patina. Below, olive groves on a steep terraced valley. It is a lovely view spoiled by a rather ugly security fence about 700 to 800 metres away.
The fence includes 20-metre high concrete planks for a short distance, but most of the fence is electrified chain link with barbed wire at the top.
But to the residents of this West Bank neighbourhood called Gilo, that fence is not an eyesore. Indeed, for all Jerusalem residents, including Arab Israelis, the fence is life. At the height of the intifada in 2002, and before the security wall was erected, more than 130 Israelis were murdered in March alone by Palestinian suicide bombers who only had to walk from their neighbourhood across the road to detonate themselves amid their Jewish neighbours. The death toll for the year was 452, with thousands injured.
For this Canadian--so accustomed to the several kilometres I travel just to pick up a loaf of bread, seeing the proximity between the security fence and the homes it's designed to protect is astonishing. It is in some spots narrower than the space many Canadians think is reasonable to have as a highway meridian. When we hear of stories about skirmishes between Palestinians and Jews within Jerusalem, it's impossible to understand just how small the distances are unless you see for yourself. Even for an unfit person, this distance would be considered a short run, barely enough to work up a sweat.
http://www.canada.com/calgaryherald/columnists/story.html?id=386535e7-46da-411d-937e-61fb9a736aa3&p=1