A Thank You Note to All ‘Eged’ Bus Drivers (Eged is the name of our public bus system)
In these days, when the threat of the dreaded suicide bus bombings is so high, I think our public bus drivers deserve some kind of award for bravery. Some plaque to hang in their living rooms or some badge of fabric to pin to their collar, or tuck into their lapel. Something that says ‘I’m willing to risk my life everyday so that the people of this country can live their lives in normalcy’.
Eged put out this announcement last week:
“Also in these hard times, we continue providing our services in the areas adjacent to the Gaza Strip. Eged’s busses are incessantly moving along traffic arteries all over Israel to fulfill transportation needs of the country’s entire population. We are doing our utmost to meet the routine schedule. However, due to the reasons beyond our control, the present situation brings about certain delays and timetable changes, as well as longer waiting times for the customer support representatives’ responses.
We are asking for your understanding and patience and hope to renew our regular services when the peace is restored – as quickly as possible.
We are sorry for the possible inconvenience.”
Sorry for the inconvenience? Can you imagine this being put out by the Marta Transportation System in Atlanta, or the MTA in New York?
Sorry that you had to wait a little longer for the bus, but someone tried to bomb us on Lavista Road…. And sorry that you have to wait a little longer to get on the train while the security officer checks each persons bag and swipes you with a metal detecting rod… Sorry.
Thanks to Eged and their brave drivers, life goes on. We’ve got work to go to, birthday parties to attend, doctors appointments to go to….
I was standing on King George Street in Jerusalem waiting for my husband to pick me up. I had just said goodbye to a good friend and was making a mental note of what it was that I had ordered for lunch. It was so delicious. There were people from all walks of life standing, chatting, laughing, all waiting for their busses to take them to their next destination. Arabs, Jews, Christians, Druze. All of us standing and waiting. I was sitting on a stoop a few yards behind the bus stop, the suicide bombings have taught me not to stand so close to the stop.
I love to watch people. My attention was on a tall Russian lady with short chic hair fixing her make-up in a tiny mirror, and a small boy eating an ice cream cone and letting it drip onto his left shoe. I reached into my pocket and walked over to hand his mama a tissue. She looked down and gasped, thanking me. I turn to see that my stoop had been taken.
In the crowd was an Arab man standing on the edge of the side walk standing tall and erect, he was wearing a clean white blazer and perfectly shined shoes. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed him before. His hair was slicked back and his brow was furrowed, he was staring straight ahead. Other people were looking at him also. A few moved away. He stood still. I began running through my head all the signs of a suicide bomber, clean clothes, shined shoes…. He wasn’t carrying anything. I was looking for a soldier, an armed security officer, anyone…. when the bus pulled up. The man stepped off the curb and the doors opened. I stayed put. As the bus driver caught sight of the man coming toward him, reaching his hand into the inside of his blazer, he squinted and looked him up and down. Immediately the doors closed and the driver stood up, gun pulled and was yelling through the closed doors, waving his gun, motioning for the man to open his jacket and show his hands. The man stepped back frowning, opened his jacket and put his hands out. The driver anxiously checked the mans torso from behind the closed doors. No bombs.
The driver composed himself and sat down, returned the gun to it’s holster, ticket puncher in hand. The doors opened and the man, along with the rest of the busy crowd entered the bus. The driver punched his card, looked him in the eye and smiled apologetically. The man nodded and sat down at a window seat and looked out the window, fixing his hair and jacket.
Our bus drivers, hundreds of men with wives and babies, risk their lives every day so that we can live normally, even under threat of attacks. Dozens of these brave men have been murdered in suicide bus bombings in the past years, and still, hundreds of bus drivers report to work each day. For us, for Israel, for the sake of living our normal civilian lives.
You don’t have to apologize to us Eged. We know what you do for us everyday, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your bravery and unwavering contribution in sustaining normal civilian Israeli life.
May Eged and its employees stay safe in the coming years.
No comments:
Post a Comment