Through the Lens of My Eye; Adventures of a Documentary Cameraman by Michael Boland

Author:Michael Boland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2012-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

On the drive through Tel Aviv my Palestinian sound recordist looked nervous. He knew we were going to film Mr. Peres but I couldn’t understand his apprehension.

“What’s up, Akram, you don’t look comfortable?” I asked.

He twitched, looked nervously out the window but didn’t respond. I tried to reassure him. “You don’t have anything to worry about, my friend, you’re with me. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me in,” he replied.

He was concerned that the German press card he carried was not enough to clear security. He was right. When we entered the building and tried to pass through glass-encased security system, a secret service type pulled Akram aside and asked for identification. When he pulled out his German press card he was immediately whisked off to another room. We waited for five minutes then we were clear to see Mr. Peres but Akram wouldn’t be joining us. We had to push ahead to keep our appointment with Peres but I’d be without recordable sound. I’d have to make do with the camera microphone. Shimon Peres was magnanimous in his greeting, embracing Johann and inviting him to sit down. Johann explained what Right to Play was all about and Mr. Peres essentially agreed that the project was ambitious and noble. It wasn’t much more than that, and then we said goodbye. When we got to the elevator the secret service guy took Alon Beer aside, then the two of them explained the circumstances to us. Apparently, Akram did not have a security card, which would allow him to be in and work in Israel. He was from Hebron, lived in Hebron and somehow managed to evade the security checkpoint, thereby passing from the West Bank into Israel proper. In addition to that violation, only the day before his uncle and two others had shot to death five Israeli settlers in the centre core of Hebron, then they were shot dead by the IDF. The secret service guy had called the police to come and take Akram away. I was devastated. I felt personally responsible for Akram being in Israel and therefore felt responsible for getting him back to Hebron. As we exited the building, the police car pulled up. I pleaded with Alon Beer to translate for me to the police and also to help me solve the crazy situation. He agreed. We explained who we were, what we were doing and that I felt responsible for Akram’s well being. After some deliberation between the police and the secret service, Akram was brought out from the building. Alon explained that they weren’t going to do anything if Akram was given taxi money enabling him to return directly to Hebron. I gave the taxi driver $50 and we all embraced Akram before he drove off. We then shook the hands of the policemen … vigorously.

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