A Bus Ride, a Guest Post by Catriel

A Bus Ride – Part of the Intifada that is NOT Reported
By Catriel Sugarman

It was a warm evening on Thursday, December 15 and I was giving a lecture that night to the Ra’anana Community Kollel. One hundred “modern orthodox” families were spending a “long Shabbat” weekend together at the Nevei Élan Hotel in Ma’alei Chamishi and I was to speak that night on the Beit Hamikdash. Contrary to my usual “custom”, I arrived at the Tachanah Mercazit of Jerusalem (Central Bus Station) with plenty of time to spare. For those who are not familiar with Israeli reality, the security surrounding the Tachanah Mercazit in Jerusalem is similar to that of an airport! After waiting in line for ten minutes, I finally succeeded in inching my way to one of the entrances of the building. Buffeted by people on all sides, I assured a security man that I had no weapons and dropped my backpack on a stand. Placing my wallet and coins in a small container on the side, I went through a “metal-sensitive electric gate”, and a guard passed a metal detector over my body. Despite all my precautions, I set off the alarm and a red light went on. Suspiciously, the security man called me back and asked me if I “had anything else” and glared at a bulge in my front breast pocket. It was my seldom-used cell phone. With a sheepish grin, I removed the offending instrument and placed it in the side container on top of my wallet. This time I managed to stride through the “metal-sensitive electric gate” without arousing its fury. Collecting my wallet, coins, keys and cell phone, I followed the line to the right. Under the watchful eye of more security men, I placed my backpack on a moving ramp that slowly passed under an X – ray machine operated by a soldier. Apparently, the contents of my bag, a laptop, a mouse, various electrical wires, a pointer, and a couple of notebooks held no interest for him and he waved me through. Having (thankfully) passed the final barrier, I retrieved my backpack and entered the massive stone and blue Tachanah Mercazit.

Climbing a few stairs, I quickly came to the escalators that took me to the Bus Departure Area on the third floor where I found Retzif (platform) 17 without any difficulty. Bus 185 services a number of communities in the “Jerusalem Corridor”, Ma’ale Hachamisha, Kiryat Anavim, Telz Stone, Abu Gush and last but not least, the Nevei Élan Hotel. As departure hour approached, I was surprised that there were almost no people waiting for the bus. When the bus left the station, only a handful of people were aboard. Ensconced in the first seat, I turned around and looked towards the back; almost all the seats were empty! I did not realize it at the time, but unlike most intercity busses in Israel, the 185 does not leave the city right away; it first picks up passengers in town. After exiting the station, the bus drove down Rechov Malchei Yisrael picking up passengers on the way and soon entered the bustling Ge’ula section and more people got on. Boarding the rapidly filling bus were bearded patriarchs with Gemarot, suited Yeshiva students with black hats, a group of young women carrying books who looked like they going to a Shi’ur together, boys with Pe’ot, girls with pigtails, and mothers with babies. As we continued down Rechov Yechezkel and up Rechov Yaffo, more people came through the swinging doors; obstreperous teenagers with backpacks, old women burdened down with bags of fruit and vegetables that they had bought in Machaneh Yehuda, the odd soldier. By the time we passed Binyanei Ha’umah on our way out of Jerusalem, there was standing room only. I was very happy to have my front row seat. Making its way through the pine covered Judean Hills, the bus made its scheduled stops, and people started getting off. There were seats for all.
Then we got to Abu Gush and four young Arabs got off the bus. They had been sitting quietly in the last row; no one had paid attention to them. When they got off the bus, they did not use the rear door. They walked the entire length of the bus and got off in the front. The driver then closed the door and the bus started to move. A couple of minutes later, everyone in the back of the bus started to cough violently. And then, the people in the seats ahead of them starting to cough, and then the people seated ahead of them! Babies were wailing. The “wave” of coughing was moving to the front of the bus! Then my throat started feeling raw and I too began to cough violently. Because I was in the front of the bus, I was the last one in the bus to start coughing. People started screaming, “Open the windows and stop the bus!” The driver, taking in the situation at a glance, did not have to be told twice! He stopped the bus, opened the doors, and choking, we all jumped out. Gasping, we filled our lungs with fresh air. It seemed like everybody pulled out cell phones and called their husbands and wives to come and get them. The driver called the police. Milling around under the stars, it took a few minutes for us to understand what happened.

When the four Arabs had gotten off the darkened bus, they had sprayed pepper-spray on the floor. That way it took a couple of minutes for it to take effect, allowing them to get off the bus and vanish into the night. While we were waiting for rides (someone was kind enough to take me to the hotel), a woman explained that in the previous two weeks, there had been three incidents of one kind or another on that line; this had been the most serious. The police did not express much interest.

I began thinking. What would have happened if the perpetrators of this attack – and there is no other word for it - would have used, or had been furnished with a more powerful poison? A whole busload of Jews, men, woman and children, could easily have been gassed! Our enemies are ruthless and their hatred for us is infinite! Perhaps this attack was a “dry run”. Maybe “someone” was training the perpetrators for a more serious attack. When they were spraying the mace, did anyone notice them? How long did it take? Could they get off the bus undetected? Who debriefed them?

I was still coughing when I gave my lecture. On the way home, I had a lot to think about.

Catriel Sugarman - Jerusalem - acatriel@netvision.net.il