by: Samar

When thinking about what a border means to me, I think of the word “Hajez” meaning checkpoint in arabic. I do not have an understanding of what a border is besides these checkpoints. I see borders that are not checkpoints that mark Israeli territories, but they are borders that I have no relationship with. Hajez represents more than a mere crossing point. It is the only interaction I have with my oppressor. it is always intense and confrontational, even If I am passing by, it still puts my whole world at stop. I wait. There, I am fully consumed. My alertness stretches out time. 
At the entrance of my refugee camp, the welcome banner says, “What is a camp but a waiting station”. This mixtape is the sound of those waiting stations, as nothing more than a temporary situation. The evidence of it’s ephemerality are observed in its environment. I want for listeners to observe the meaning of being there. Waiting. Constantly waiting. 
This Mixtape begins in a refugee camp, besides the guy who sells tomatoes who insists you should buy from them, there is no real threat occuring. Shortly after, the sound israeli defence soldiers interfere as they arrest a couple of guys on a daily basis. The second track is an audio of Israeli propaganda about the adjustments made on Qalandia checkpoint. They patched up the holes in the walls and put forth a terminal like front with the technologies and instructions screens. A palestinian rapper wrote a song about the same check point but he describes whats going through his head when passing a checkpoint. The IDF soldier speaking about the satisfactions of Palestinians with new-less-aparathied-looking checkpoint finds his answers within the lyrics of the song “ko7l o 3atmeh”. The tape then starts including those who I do not know, but whose words have been said before by my people who had to flee their country, who are surviving the violence of waiting stations.