the checkpoint

I followed precisely the same procedure. it was easy, i have done it a thousand times so far. i placed my car on P, turned on the internal cabinet lights, turned down the radio and opened the driver's window glass. it was a checkpoint. i did not feel comfortable, i never do on checkpoints. whether it was a Lebanese army checkpoint, a unifil peace corps checkpoint, or a hizballah security force checkpoint. it brought too many memories too many names, too many slogans. on the wall behind the gunman, i could read 30 years of the past, slogans now faded, but still engraved in my memory, "our holiday the day of our return", "no Palestinian shall remain on Lebanese soil", "our leader forever, Hafez el Assad", "towards the Bacha Bridge", "know your enemy, the Syrian is your enemy"... all faded slogans of a decadent past slipped on the wall in a slide show as the gunman read my identity card, symbol of my belonging to a dreadful reality, the Lebanese one.
As far as i can remember, i always disliked the military, any denomination they might carry. whether they were of the Lebanese army many militia factions, or with the plain blunt militia factions, even when i was a member of one. there was something about the uniform, about the gun, a certain stench that never was washed away.
the horrid looking gargoyle in uniform waves his hand in a friendly gesture, smiling as i drive pass him. this checkpoint was done, as i drove to the next one.