The Israeli Interrogation

The man led me into a small white room. There was one seat in there and a stand like the kind musicians read their scores off. I went to sit down on the chair but the man told me to stand.

He had my passport and some other paper work that I never got to see clearly, it was written in Hebrew anyway so it didn’t matter if I saw it or not. I wondered if he would make me sign it, that paper work in Hebrew.

“What is your full name please?”

“Kathelene Eva Noonan”

He checked the passport for clarification.

“What is your date of birth?”

“Your place of birth?”

So far I seemed to be getting all the answers right.

“Why are you in Israel?”

“Where will you be staying?”

“What do you plan to do here?”

He thought I was a Palestinian activist, I knew enough not to tell him we were heading to the West Bank. So I just told him we were going to Jerusalem and then to Tel Aviv. Knowing myself that I am not a terrorist or sadly even an activist I wasn’t too worried, the worst they could do is send me back to Jordan. Despite this, I still erred on the side of caution with some questions:

“What do you do for work?”

“I am a social worker”

“And what sort of social work do you do?”

I didn’t think I could tell him that I work with refugees, I was sure that would make me sound like an activist, so I went with the last place I worked at.

“I work with homeless kids”

“Where?”

“Sydney, a place called Kings Cross”

“What do you there?”
“What do you mean?”

“What sort of services do you provide? Legal advice?”

“Oh! No! Like food and a shower and use of computers mostly”

“And they just gave you time off to come here?”

I should have realised, but at the time I didn’t think that after he interrogated me he would also take Molly in for questioning.

Man questioning me:

“How do you know the other girl?”

“We’ve been friends for over 5 years”

“Where did you meet?”
“At university?”

Man questioning Molly (after):

“How do you know the other girl?”

“We used to work together”

“What does she do for work?”

“She is a social worker, she works with refugees”

“So you two work together now with refugees?”

“No… I mean yes. We both work with refugees but not together, just in the same field”

“How did you meet?”

“At work, I told you, but at a café we both used to work at”

Man questioning me:

“So after Israel where are you going?”

“Turkey for a few weeks then home” (I knew I couldn’t say Iran and thought I shouldn’t even say Burma)

“Home to which country?”

“Australia of course!”

“Now tell me again where you went in Jordan and where you met up with your friend”

“Listen, is this because I have a shaved head in my passport photo?”

He looked at me with a smirk but said nothing, I had the answer I already knew.

“Do you want me to take my head scarf off?”

Man questioning Molly (after):

“So where to after here?”

“We fly from Tel Aviv to Istanbul then out of Istanbul to Sydney”

“Together?”

“Yes together”

“So you fly from here to Jordan then out of Jordan to where?” (Was he trying to trick her? Confuse her?)

“No I didn’t say that!”

“So where did you go to in Jordan exactly”

Molly recounted later that all the questioning made her nervous and those nerves confused her. For a moment she couldn’t remember where we went in Jordan.

Molly talking to man (after):

“You’re making me nervous!”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

“You’re interrogating me! I feel like you’re trying to confuse me!”

Man questioning me:

“What do your tattoos mean?”

“Which ones? I have a lot this could take a while”

I was sitting outside the interrogation room, sweating like a criminal about to be caught. ‘Why did I lie about my job!’ I berated myself. ‘Why didn’t I think that of course they’d drag her in for questioning too!’

When Molly and the interrogator came out laughing I knew we were ok.

“You’re scary” she said to the man as they walked to collect her bags.

“Thanks” he said

“That’s not a compliment… you’ve taken five years off my life!”

When we shared events later we realised a few discrepancies in our stories, but then maybe that was in our favour, maybe if we gave all the same answers it would have appeared too rehearsed. After all, Molly really didn’t remember that we met at university and I could have told him anything I wanted about my tattoos.