When you are away from the West Bank it’s possible to keep in touch with news of the big incursions. Of the children shot dead. Of so many lives lost. What is less easy to remember is the steady drip of humiliation that affects a people because of their race, their religion or their ID card. What becomes less immediate when you are far away from the turnstiles and the teenage soldiers with their guns and braces is remembering the rage that flows from being so regularly trapped and humiliated, and being powerless to do anything to make it stop.
