Agile or just lazy?

When I first came across Agile it was 2007 and I was given a set of reasonably well-defined requirements and a team of developers and a mandate to create an app to solve a problem. Prior to this I was familiar with iterative methods like DSDM that date back to the 1990s, and I had responded to a few large requirements specifications in my role as Key Account. And now I was in new territory, one which I initially interpreted as “more power to the team” (sw developers) and less to the “bureaucrats”. I haven´t really changed my mind.

Agile can be seen as a reaction to the old paradigm of requirements, waterfall, and final testing, with all its cost-overruns and “failed” projects. Agile gives more power to the team, and what we have now is explicitly a running negotiation between the customer and the supplier. This may be a good thing. The realities of software development are what they are – we might as well face them square on, rather than pretend that all will be well if we apply sufficient amounts of old-school professional project management.

So what seems to be the problem? Software is a the same time malleable and rigid. If you apply a little pressure, it yields, and you can often see small changes. But if you apply large pressure to effect large changes, you find that this takes a lot of time and effort. Key design assumptions permeate the system. A key element, often given little attention, is the information model. Often when we change a “system”, we are actually changing the information model. Moving an attribute up or down in a hierarchy can be extremely costly, because so much logic may depend on it.

The waterfall model was ditched because it is so hard to get the requirements right up front, and because they may change, and because there was too little focus on user involvement during the construction phase. But did we go to the other extreme, and get lazy? The danger in laziness is obvious: construction starts without sufficient probing of the difficult topics; as the project progresses you have to face them, and realize that you started to build the system on foundations or assumptions that turn out to be plain wrong. You have travelled far in the wrong direction.

So when the developer teams says “we don´t know what this will look like in the end so we will start here and refine it as we go along”, my response will be “why don´t you know? How hard have you looked? What effort would it take to improve your understanding before you start designing?”.

As for “agile business” , that looks to me like “retrofitting” or induction from agile as a software development approach. We are told that companies like Adobe and Apple are agile (!), and Spotify. I find this a sterile discussion, where inevitably “agile” ends up being applied as a label on anything that you want to applaud or promote. Agile ends up a victim of its own success – the other day agile was touted as the means to achieve security in software development. I rest my case.

So by all means, let´s work in 3-week periods and get feedback regularly and learn from each other. But let´s not get lazy. Many problems yield to a bit of determined analysis.

Access control in a medical VNA

How do you make sure only the right personnel can see the medical media content stored in a VNA (Vendor Neutral Archive) – being sure that the access policies are adhered to, without devoting enormous resources to the task?

The answer is simple, but likely to prove unpopular.

Consider first the EPR (EPJ). There are two checkpoints to clear before a document is displayed to any employee with legitimate access to the EPR:
1) Does the employee have a current care relation with the patient (that the document describes)?
2) if yes, does the employee´s access profile include the category of the document in question?
The 2nd step is also crucial. As an example, a physiotherapist can read documents related to the work he/she carries out, but not the psychiatrist´s assessment, nor other clinical documents. Now, an image is added to the VNA relating to an aspect of the patient that´s outside of the legitimate needs of the physiotherapist How do we make sure the image is hidden from the physio? A modern teaching hospital has about 40 different professions, and maybe 100 document categories linked to the professions by access profiles.

To give you an idea:
As a SOMATIC NURSE you have READ access to somatic and psychiatric documents created by NURSES, and WRITE access to somatic NURSE DOCUMENTS .
There are many more documents you can read, and even more you cannot create or edit.

The employee can read the Document since the role gives access via the profile and the category of the document

So far so good within the EPR. We will now add the VNA to the mix. An image is added to the VNA, in the patient´s folder. We can state with certainty that it is created within a clinical context with a specific purpose; generally the equipment used to capture the image receives some data from the EPR (metadata), that are stored with the image in the VNA (analogous to RIS/PACS workflow). The image shows a bruise related to a fracture caused by violence. The image is described in a journal record in the EPR which also includes remarks about a radiology report.

The question now arises: who should be able to see this image? Here we must make an educated guess about the hospital´s access policy – see below. But first of all, the care relationship must be present. There is only one system that can determine if it is indeed present, and that is the EPR: so, we need to ask the EPR: does employee X have a current care relationship with patient Y? If the answer is yes, the patient folder in the VNA can be displayed. But will the VNA reveal all data about the patient to our employee X? No, it cannot, for the same reason as we have discussed above.

Access to the Image is controlled by access to the linked Document in the EPR

If the image of the bruise captured above relates to a suspected criminal case, the journal record describing the bruise will belong to a specific category (type) to which only certain roles have access. Logically, the image of the bruise can only be revealed to those that can read the related journal record. Hence, the EPR must control which images are shown to whom, at the document level (category level would have been sufficient were it not for the possibility that a single document instance is blocked from a set of individuals by request from the patient).

The simplest way to implement this is to remove direct access to the VNA. An image will only be displayed by opening a record in the EPR, and from there, opening the linked media content in the VNA.

We can allow direct access to the VNA, but this will carry a large cost in the shape of a large number of access requests to the EPR. We see that there must be one-way references from the journal record to the image identifier in the VNA at least; preferably both ways (the image stores the ID of the document).

The conclusion to this article is that the when the VNA is used to store clinical objects, such as images, ECG, video, and so on, it effectively becomes an extension of the EPR.
This is analogous to the way RIS-PACS interact with each other.

Well, what if there are images/objects in the VNA that are not linked to any document in the EPR? This case is very unusual, but a fallback rule saying “doctors only access” would probably suffice to cover it.

The blizzard

The blizzard unleashed its fury in the late afternoon or early evening, as the light was slowly dwindling over the mountains in the west. It was one of those late spring blizzards that appear out of nowhere and blow cold upon the unsuspecting traveller. And upon the expecting bandits.

Shortly after the wind appeared, the snow started to come down in diagonal streaks, and within a short time the ground in the high valleys was covered in white. A shepherd boy heard a couple of shots ring out, and as if by instinct moved to the door of his shack. He peered out through a crack and as he had expected could only make out the land falling away towards the valley below, dimly through the snow. A short while passed, another shot.

The milk in the large black pan was almost at boiling point. He moved it away from the fire, and pulled on his long boots, slid on his heavy leather coat and ditto hat, then the thick leather mittens with their woolen lining. And then he moved out into the cold, wet blizzard and started down the slope at a quick pace. The snow was no more than a few inches thick, but made the ground slippery, and he could feel the cold through the leather, since the snow  stuck to it.

The scene before him as he reached the ford was more or less as he had expected. On either side of the fast-moving stream the terrain rose quite sharply, which meant a slow approach and a similarly slow ascent once on the other side. This gave attackers ample time to choose when to engage; generally as about half the travelling company was across the stream. Just across on the other side a horse lay on its side. A bit further up the shadow of a man was already partly covered in snow. There were footprints from horses scattered around, and here and there he could make out the shapes of belongings; as he approached the ford he stumbled over a saddle pack and then stepped on a pistol. Apart from this, nothing. Or so it seemed. He was the only living creature here, and felt a strange calmness. In any case he was not afraid of bandits. He knew them, and they knew him. He was poor, they were poor. He sometimes gave them milk and cheese in exchange for a coin or some ham. They had their code of honour, and he knew they only fired if they were forced to by the circumstances. Someone must have put up resistance, and then fled.

The shepherd boy crossed the stream and walked the few steps to the dead horse. The snow was melting on its warm fur, and this made the contrast with the half hidden shape next to it even more striking. A human shape was lying there, seemingly trapped by the fallen quadruped. Leaning over, he moved the beautiful embroidered cape aside to reveal the face of a young woman. She was breathing, eyes closed, her right arm under the horse. Her face was white, her lips a bluish tinge. 

Freeing her arm turned out to be quite easy. She had been knocked unconscious by the fall and left by her company as they fled, he figured. A few more hours and she would freeze to death; so he picked her up, hoisted her over his shoulders and made for his shack.

The young woman was lying in his simple bunk. He was sweating from the effort of carrying her up the hill; his legs were burning, his chest heaving. As for her, she was breathing, but in a shallow, laboured fashion, and she was very cold. His shack had stone walls that let the cold wind in, the hearth was the only source of heat. That, the warm milk, and his own body. He decided to make use of the latter two. Gingerly he freed her of her wet clothes, trying to avoid hurting her arm. Soon she was naked. Her long lace underwear was soaked; it had to go, too. In the dim light from the hearth and the one oil lamp, he could make out the shadow of her breasts and the mass of curly hair where her legs met. Not stopping to take it all in, he got a large pan of warm milk and started to rub her down, soaking a large natural sponge with it; it was one of his prized possessions, spoils from a robbery he had witnessed as an even younger man.
Soon he was rubbing her vigorously with the sponge, as hot as he dared, and in doing so he got to know her body well. He rolled her onto her stomach. In the dim light he could see the curves of her hips and feel her firm, round thighs under his hands. The warm milk gave off a strange odour when it dried on her.

The warm milk seemed to bring some life to her skin; she shuddered, moaned. He realized the cold air would undo any good the warm liquid could do, stripped out of his clothes and got in beside her, covering them both with the animal hides he slept under. They kept him warm even in the midst of winter. But she was still frozen. He held her tight; his excess of heat crept slowly into her body, and suddenly her eyes opened.

He was afraid she would start screaming. But instead she started trembling. Her body was finally reacting to the hypothermia and marshalling its own resources. He realised some milk might help and offered her a drink. She managed half of a cup between bouts of trembling.

They lay down, he held her. After an eternity, the trembling subsided, she slid into sleep, he followed her, sleeping fitfully, then deeply. As he woke, sunlight was seeping in through cracks in the walls of dry stone, and he knew that outside the snow was quickly melting, revealing both the beauty and the ugliness of the world.

They were hot now: her skin was warm and smooth and her cheeks rosy. Her face was partly in shade so the sunlight was not threatening to wake her. He realised his member was hard against her soft thigh. How could he resist visiting her body with his hands? With his free hand he felt her soft curves. He dwelt on her breasts for a long time. Such marvels! He was on fire; dimly he knew that he was thirsty and hungry, but most of all he hungered for her. The soft skin of her hand was brushing against his member, then suddenly grasping it firmly, in her sleep. She was surfacing from deep sleep, her hand making jerking movements as it held him. It was all he could do to suppress a moan, then the contractions in his belly, that indescribable, brief sweetness, and his wet fluids on her skin, on the hide below them, on his own belly. She woke.

She woke and kissed him. He had never kissed anyone, and now she rolled onto him and started to press against his lean, muscular thigh, crushing his member below her weight. He was able to put his hand around her soft behind, marvel of marvels. Unafraid he let his hands venture further, to find wetness, softness. Her hand again; this time it knew what it was doing. She squeezed and cajoled him, then, once she was satisfied with the results, she slid him inside of her and started to ride him. She freed herself partly of the hides and rode him slowly, pressing her loins against his, sometimes with a hand between her legs, sometimes not. He was a spectator, an outsider looking into an unknown world, a terrifying world for an innocent young man who spent his days tending the cows in the high fields of the alps. She was growing impatient, she wanted more from his body, she tried different angles and movements. He could feel the wave grow again in his loins, and without warning it burst inside her, and he quickly went limp.

They lay next to each other.

“Ou suis-je”, she said. “Dans les montagnes encore?”

“Si, montagna”. He nodded eagerly.

“Comment tu t´appèles?”

He signalled incomprehension.

“Ton nom. Nome!”

“Mi chiamo Matteo”

“Je suis Cécile.”

“Sei ricca”.

She smiled.

“E bella”, he added to himself.

“mon fiancé – fidanzato – verra me chercher. Cercare”, she said.

“Il croirà que je suis morte”.

She grabbed his hand and put it between her legs. He recoiled as if he had put his hands in hot milk – but she insisted. She showed him how to touch her, gently, firmly, quickly. Once more he felt like an intruder upon a world unknown to him. The sight and sound and smell of her roused him, he wanted to be one with her once more, the last time, he knew, and threw himself on top of her, driven by an instinct he had never known. It was a wild ride. He had to ride her hard to reach his climax, and she egged him on, she met him. They were one in this.

And then it was over, and they were sweaty, and she was awkward in borrowed clothes that smelt of him and animals, while her garments were drying in the sun. They had breakfast on his simple foods, not speaking beyond simple words they could both understand. 

She had barely got dressed in her own, damp clothes when a trumpet rang out in the valley below, and a short while later a gaggle of horsemen appeared over the crest of the meadow below the shack. The young woman ran down to meet them, having recognized the colours of her fiancé´s coat-of-arms and the standards fluttering in the breeze behind the armed men at his side.

The shepherd boy kept to his shack. As he stood in the doorway he witnessed Cécile reach the men. They spoke for a while, she pointed in his direction. He heard the angry voice of the lead man – he must be her fiancé. Having fled in panic he was back to see what had become of his bride-to-be.Presently Cécile mounted the horse behind her man, and the whole group set in motion and quickly covered the hundred yards or so to the shepherd´s shack. The shepherd bowed before the man on the first horse, who was dressed in his finest horseman´s outfit and clearly belonged to the nobility. This man, Cécile´s fidanzato, looked the shepherd up and down, down and up. He gave a grunt and a short command to one of his men, who came up to the front and tossed a coin to the shepherd. Then they swung their horses around as one, and cantered away down the meadow, Cécile not once looking back.

RAV4 4wd Hybrid 2016 second hand

Some quick notes on the ownership experience.

We bought the car 2016-model when it was 3 years old and had 90.000 km on the clock. It´s an Active S, meaning leather, powered driver´s seat, rear camera, driver assistance systems.

It´s a Toyota, so 2 years in and about 30.000 km we have not had any unexpected expenses. The drivetrain is bullet-proof. First set of front discs just wore out at 125.000.

The car is 4WD on demand, with an electric motor living all alone at the rear driving the rear wheels. This motor is also a generator and participates in energy recuperation. The front wheels are driven by the 150HP petrol engine and a separate electric motor – or two, actually: Quiet, linear acceleration.

Aspects to consider:

  • Space is good. 5 adults can ride in the back, 4 very comfortably. Lots of leg room
  • Decent 500 litre boot with strange hump in floor due to battery intruding
  • Excruciatingly slow powered tailgate
  • Very very comfortable and very silent running. Love the soft suspension, avoids the sea-sickness of old Volvo XC70s
  • Rolls a bit in corners
  • Good acceleration but you have to really ask for it
  • Conti W7 (nordic) studless / friction tyres fantastic
  • Dunlop Sport Maxx RT2 for the summer. Much less noisy than standard tyres, very very comfortable (235/55 R18). Highly recommended
  • Four wheel drive excellent in middle to quite hard conditions: car feels planted and goes hard, needn´t worry when parking in snow and rough ice
  • Four wheel drive 100% useless when you really need it: ice and slight uphill from standstill, computer sends zero power to rear wheels, no selective braking of spinning front wheel. Nada. As ineffective as a FWD Yaris. Really disappointing. Seriously, Toyota! A few lines of code and you could get the car moving.
  • The whole instrumentation etc smacks of 2001. The various systems are clearly not talking when the parking sensors start to complain at 100km/h because they are covered in slush. When you change wheel-set (winter/summer) you have to reset the tyre pressure sensor via a dedicated button hidden on the steering column. C´mon, c´mon, Toyota! I call Toyota twice a year to have them tell me how to do this, the instruction booklet has in inaccurate description. The EV button has no impact on anything. The manual selection of “gears” is there, but no-one ever uses it. So – if you´re hooked on the future, this is not for you. This is the past in terms of systems architecture
  • Connecting phones via Bluetooth is reliable but infuriating. Well hidden, and max 4 phones at a time… what on earth?
  • Fuel economy: computer says about 6.5/100 in summer, 7.5-8.0 in winter. The combustion engine runs a lot in winter just to keep occupants warm. Takes a while to heat the cabin – efficient engine gives off less heat. I always leave it in ECO- mode. Switch off ECO for more throttle response and more thirst. Switch to SPORT for …nothing!. Switch back to ECO.
  • Towing capacity ot 1650 kg nice to have
  • If you want a spacious, affordable, comfortable, reliable, 4WD that´s cheap to run and own and keeps its value, runs on petrol, and you rarely venture onto hills covered in ice, this it the car for you.
  • When you get stuck, slap on snowchains in 3 minutes, and off you go

Surfski for the newbie: Epic V10L and Carbonology Boost

And so it came to pass that I was given a secondhand V10L for my birthday, and I have spent a fair bit of time in it, and also some time out of it… this is my first full season in a kayak, and the 44 cms of support for your clumsiness that the V10L provides is sometimes not enough, and I have been in the water many a time. But I am improving, I am…

Our hero surrounded by obsolete technology

I have used it on the flat, on the somewhat choppy, and on the ocean. The ocean was a bit too much, the rest I can just about manage, though there are many heart-in-mouth-moments.

When I first got into the V10L all went well; and so I bought it.

The next trip I fell in immediately and couldn´t get back in. This was 15 metres from the quayside, and my kids were witness to my failed attempts.

One or two Youtube videos later – “surfski remount” – and all was well. I can get back in. Once in, I lean back in the seat until things quieten down, and then I set off. The added adrenalin gives the drive to move the boat; it´s far more stable on the move.

I bought an NRS 0.5mm wetsuit of the long-John type with no arms. On top of this I sometimes wear a thin wool underwear thingy. This works well, but I will probably get an NRS vest next season for colder days.

I bought a secondhand Bracia paddle, adjustable & all. I kept it screwed together for a month in and out of salt water, and now it´s impossible to budge.

The desire to challenge myself and the elements is always there – but in order to challenge the ocean outside Tvedestrand, I have ordered a Carbonology Sports Boost LV. I have been on the open ocean in “interesting” conditions once, that was in an Epic V7. The V7 felt very stable, and I only fell in three times (!).

Surfski and Kayak has opened up a new chapter alongside rowing, and I am working on technique and strength – thanks again to Youtube!


Eg kobla meg opp mot labradoren med ei lærreim og gjekk ned trappa. Eg logga meg ut gjennom utgangsdøra og steig ut på gata. Det var stilt ute. Eg trakk i reima. «Kom no, Online», sa eg, og satte kursen mot parken.

Kona mi hadde straks gått for forslaget mitt om å ta hunden ut ein tur. Vi gjekk ikkje tur saman meir pr. idag. Kommunikasjonen mot kona var eigentleg inne i ein down-periode, hadde eg funne ut.

Bikkja kom med eit innspill: ho ville bort til eit tre. Eg ga henne aksept på det, og ho gjorde ein release mot trestamma.

Vi tusla vidare. Borte ved gate’n til parken sto ein mann og supporta seg på ein stokk. Han såg litt trøytt ut. Kanhende fekk ikkje han heller nok oppbacking heime?

Det var kaldt og eg følte for å avslutte sesjonen ute. Det var verkeleg mykje overhead med denne bikkja. Kanhende skulle eg avslutte leasingavtalen hennar, sjølv om det stod att eit år ? Nei, ho var jo så søt. Og no som kona…. Nei, best å ikkje kome inn i ein loop av tunge tankar.

Eg ruta meg heim att. Kona var ute då eg kom inn. Eg visste at ho hadde outsourca somme tenester som eg hadde vore supplier for tidlegare. Kanhende hadde den nye kortare turnaround tid, tenkte eg resignert.

Eg knytta meg opp mot ein site i USA og downloada ein cyberburgar. Eg tok meg ein byte.


Susanne Sundfør: The Brothel + alt annet

Billie Holiday: Strange Fruit

David Bowie: Ashes to ashes

Miles Davis: Time after time

J.S. Bach: Ehre sei dir, Gott, gesungen! (Spotify)

Sia/David Guetta: Flames

Jessie J: Price tag

Michael Kiwanuka: Cold little heart

Marillion: Kayleigh

Eminem: Without me


Master and Margarita (Bulgakov), Pan (Hamsun)

AKSON varslet katastrofe

Et samlet IT-Norge er kritiske til AKSON-prosjektet, eller med andre ord “ikke gjør det på denne måten”.

Likevel turer Direktoratet for e-helse frem.

KS støtter Direktoratet. Men etterpå er det langt mellom støttespillerne.

Næringspolitisk er det vanskelig å forstå tilnærmingen, som med stor sannsynlighet vil ende opp med å favorisere én stor utenlandsk aktør.

Fra ståstedet til IKT-arkitektur er det liten støtte å hente. Alle tilsvarende prosjekter har feilet internasjonalt. 100%. Hvis pasienten dør av behandlingen, må den avsluttes. Medisinen må seponeres når dødeligheten er så høy som dette.

Diagnosen av pasienten er overflatisk. Han har det vondt, klager over smerter her og der. Bandasjen gnager, sier han. Eller mangler helt og holdent. Løsningen: en bandasje som dekker alle behov. Alle. En magisk bandasje. Hvordan denne skal se ut, eller hvori magien ligger, kan ikke Direktoratet svare på.

Det vi upresist kaller “Journal” er et produksjonssystem som må være tilrettelagt for lokale forhold.  Den medisinske delen (pasientjournalen/EPJ) er forsvinnende liten sett ved siden av logistikk, økonomi, organisasjonsstruktur og roller; roller som varierer  avhengig av organisering.

TIlgangsstyring vil bli kritisk og er tett knyttet til profesjoner, organisatorisk tilhørighet og turnus, og det siste betyr at turnusssystemer må integreres. Så har vi allehånde brevmaler, lokale integrasjoner, osv.

“EPJ” er bare en liten del av dette, “PAS”-delen dominerer fullstendig.

Den snakker ingen om.

AKSON kan best forstås sosiologisk og økonomisk.

– KS trenger økonomisk bistand og politisk bistand fordi de har underinvestert på området og leverandørmarkedet reflekterer dette (mikroskopisk, amatørmessig).

– Direktoratet for e-helse forsvarer sin posisjon og eksistensberettigelse og store budsjetter

– Departementet? Aner virkelig ikke. Snodig at Høyre som er næringslivspartiet vil nedlegge hele den norske helse-IT-bransjen.

Checkpoint by Sidsel Wold (Palestine)

This is a resumé of Sidsel Wold´s book from 2006 published in Norwegian by Gyldendal.

Sidsel Wold has been the correspondent for the Norwegian Broadcasting corporation (NRK) in the Middle East for many years. The NRK cherishes its neutrality, but what does a correspondent do when injustice stares her in the face and she is on a sabbatical from her job?

Maybe she writes a book about her stay in Jerusalem. She writes from up close. You can smell the streets, see the flesh from the suicide bombers, smell the smoke from the water pipes and feel the November rain; you can see the living rooms, the tea-cups and the veiled girls…

Checkpoint takes its name from the many checkpoints that break up the daily lives of Palestinians, and ensures that the different Palestinian societies remain apart. To live in Gaza, or a refugee camp on the West Bank, or in a Palestinian-controlled part of the West Bank, or in Tel Aviv with an Israeli passport – these are completely different realities.

Gaza is hell on earth – and this was 2006! The main topic there seems to be death and martyrdom, and the murderous, blind violence meted out by Israel – or shall we call it the Zionist state?

The book makes a few points very clear that are familiar to those that know Israel, briefly summarised:

  • the settler invasion by the Zionists was well organised and well funded
  • the will to displace the indigenous population was there from the start
  • the Palestinians were ill equipped to withstand the onslaught, which essentially pitted the first world against the third world
  • the campaign to squeeze the arabs has gone on relentlessly since 1948
  • after the second Intifada the Wall came up, and security returned to Israel. With it, the will to make a meaningful peace with the Palestinians disappeared. They also disappeared

Wold brings a lot of nuance to our understanding of Israel, with its immigrant populations from myriad countries. It is criss-crossed by sectarian and social fault lines, but unified in its loyalty to the Israeli state. As an example, the rise of Likud is tightly linked with the rise of the political power of the Jews of Arab origin (sephardim, mizrahim) who had been held down by the Askhenazi Jews of European descent (those that spoke Yiddisch).

A few more points are worth mentioning, like the role of religion and tradition. For the Palestinians, religion and tradition often mean a patriarchical society where a womans´s destiny is to bear children and obey her husband. The theme is drearily familiar. It is hard to see how emancipation will take place in a situation where men are oppressed and locked into their roles as breadwinners and fighters. With the demise of the PLO and the rise of Hamas, the space for secular social  politics is limited.

On the Jewish side of the fence, religion also plays a central role, both as provider of identity for all Jews, and as a provider of destiny for religious settlers and the Orthodox. Both these groups seem to inhabit a universe where reason cannot penetrate.

It is often overlooked that about 1.2 million non-jews, mainly muslim arabs, carry an Israeli passport. They enjoy far more freedom than their relatives (figuratively and literally) in the West Bank and Gaza. But they are now wanted. They are not Jews, after all, and this “Nationality” is known by the state and has a huge effect on your prospects in Israel. Whether you are a Jew or not, is a question only the rabbis can decide (Wold does not state this latter fact anywhere, but Shlomo Sand has a lot to say on the issue of Israeli identity politics). And as unwanted citizens, they are discriminated against. Simply put, this is apartheid. One set of rights for me, one for the others. In this case the other is the Goy.

Sidsel Wold uses her skill and charm to connect with Jew and Palestinian, and she has the sensitivity and non-judgmental attitude which allows her to make meaningful connections with people and observations about life in Israel. And yet – her blood boils at the checkpoints.

“As I stand in line, I spot an elderly Palestinian in a green jacket and checkered keffiyeh on the other side of the road. He´s trying to move south on the West Bank. Clearly he was born long before the state of Israel saw the light of day. Two Israeli soldiers, a man and a woman, stop him. The old man gesticulates and tries to talk his way through the control post. A third soldier, sitting smoking on a concrete block with his legs crossed, looks the old man up and down.

– what, won´t they let you through? says the soldier and smiles mockingly. He´s enjoying himself. As always when I am upset, I put on my dark sunglasses. The female IDF soldier lights a smoke and leans into the concrete block.
– but I pass through here every day, says the Palestinian with mounting desperation
– “but I pass through here every day”, repeats the soldier and laughs out loud
– so, you´re here every day? That doesn´t mean you will get through today, you know! says the soldier teasingly. He looks at his colleagues, and they all laugh. The old man turns around slowly and starts on the long journey back.” (page 189)

This episode says it all, really. Occupation destroys the soul of the occupier. It´s about as far from the Jewish spirit as one can get.