Ramadan

Translator:  Charles K.

11:30  We arrived at the Qalandiyya checkpoint.  We’re from the Tel Aviv area and aren’t very familiar with the checkpoint.  We go the wrong way and don’t  take the left-hand crossing lane, which isn’t intended these days for Palestinians but only for security personnel, which is why it’s two-way.  We enter through one of the open crossing lanes.  We find ourselves literally in a cage.  This is the next stop for Palestinians who’ve gone through the initial inspection in the outer parking lot where their crossing permits are checked and after they’ve waited in three narrow, crowded lanes.  From the cage they’ll continue to the second inspection – parcels and IDs.  Here traffic is one-way.  A few minutes pass; we try to communicate with the soldier sitting in the shielded booth: we call his attention to a child who wants to go to the bathroom, and also ask how we get out of here.  It isn’t easy to speak to him through the concrete wall behind which he’s sitting but, luckily for us, he’s used to reading lips.  He speaks to us through a loudspeaker.  Other than he, there’s no other representative of the checkpoint around to talk to.  He says that there are no bathrooms here, and offers to make the revolving gate turn briefly in our direction so we can exit.  But the lanes are very narrow, only one person wide.  Why couldn’t they have been two centimeters wider, so people on line could breathe?  But that’s obviously impossible.

We join the lines on our way out of the cage.  We’re both jumpy.  A feeling of pressure and anxiety caused by the unique architecture of this place:  the high fences creating very narrow lanes, the revolving gates that turn only in one direction, the locks.  The area is closed and locked.  Those waiting on line tell us how long their morning has already been and their fear that ultimately, despite their efforts, and even if they get through, they’ll be too late for worship.

12:15  We came to the line of men in the parking lot.  Most already crossed.  There’s not much chance at this hour of reaching the Old City in time for worship, and the buses waiting beyond the checkpoint have already left.  Few cross, some are turned back because they’re the wrong age (women must be over 40, men over 45).  A shed has been added and a kind of fan that blows droplets of cool water.  They help a great deal.  It’s a significant improvement, compared to the terrible heat I remember from previous years.

12:50  We oved over to the women’s line.  Some women are still trying to get through the checkpoint; most of the crowd waits for a worship service to be held here – that is, in the dirty parking lot.  A few dozen people arrange themselves – men and women separately – on prayer mats.  After prayer the “Olive revolution” group begins demonstrating, wishing to make the Palestinian’s voices heard in connection with the UN vote in September (we senmd our best wishes).  They’re carrying national flags and a purple flag with the new movement’s symbol.  They stand very near the soldiers, separated only by concrete barriers.  What are they chanting?  On the way back to Tel Aviv, Nora tells me that when she was a child they chanted “A Jewish state, free immigration.”  They’re chanting their own versions of exactly the same slogan – I heard, for example, “Jerusalem, freedom, a free Palestine.”  Their flags are literally in the soldiers’ faces.  The soldiers are protected by full flak jackets, helmets, weapons.  The demonstrators are exposed.  It goes on for about half an hour.  It’s clear that things will end with a tear gas grenade even though, momentarily, when the demonstrators announce over a megaphone that they’ll soon disperse, it seems perhaps that won’t happen.  But nevertheless – a huge amount of gas is ultimately directed at the crowd.  It’s huge because even if it wasn’t aimed at us, it makes our eyes and nose burn acutely.  I see women bending over, covering their faces with handkerchiefs.  We also flee.  When we’re already at a distance we continue hearing tear gas being fired at the crowd.  Some soldiers who also fled the gas cloud help each other cope with the pain and make fun of their incompetent response – “What kind of soldiers are we, covered in gas,” and “this is the last time; we get out in two days.”  No sign at all of concern for what happened to those at whom the tear gas was aimed, whose pain is certainly greater

Translation: Ruth Fleishman

fourth Friday of the Ramadan

Why is it that a partial realization of fundamental (Palestinian) human rights is regarded as alleviation and gesture of good will?

The beginning of the "Olive Revolution"

"They took the goat out of the house", our friend Tami described accurately the situation in face of the media's publications regarding the alleviations in the passage for the Friday prayer. There were no alleviations. The same old and familiar regulations were once again implemented.

IDs inspections were performed in hast and urgency, the likes of which we had never before seen. The military forces had been preparing from the early morning hours to greet the people of the "Olive Revolution" and prevent the masses from joining it.

The Palestinians, whose bodies and pride had been crushed after tens of year of humiliation, quickly obeyed the orders.

Only a few raised their voices, attempted, begged, urged the uniformed man who was holding their IDs and checking to see their date of birth. In spite of the rapidity and speediness there seemed to be no place of gestures of good will, and when a father escorted by his sons, one of eleven years and other of thirteen, he was force to decide whether it would be best to head back with them both, or continue the journey and leave the eldest behind, a person from the administration patronizingly gave him some advice: "what's the big deal, give him some money and he'll go back home in a cab…". 

The age barrier once again separated women from their husbands, children from their parents and prevented from the young and healthy to support their handicapped parents or grandparents. 

As the hour of the prayer was approaching the pressure at the men's passage grew higher and people in the crowed started to complain. A BP officer rebuked them: "We've been letting you pass all week, and this is how you pay us back?..."

The signal for the beginning of the "Olive Revolution" was given when Ashraf Abu-Rahma, whose brother and sister had died while participating in the non-violent protest against the building of the separation wall in Bil'in, climbed on top of the part of the wall that was closest to the site, waved Palestinian flags and handed them to the people surrounding him. "Arrest him!", the order was head. Hands armed with weapons pulled and tipped Ashraf over. The struggle began. Ashraf was outflanked and he and his friend were dragged away. Ashraf was taken away but kept resisting, while his friend, held by the hand by a BP man, walked aside his capturer with his head high up. The two were arrested and taken to the inner zone.

Rows on top of rows of men and women faced the soldiers and concrete walls. A religious Muslim dressed in white blessed the believers and held a prayer. Tens of people kneeled on the filthy ground and raised the voices to their god.

Once the prayer had ended, Palestine flags and purple flags (the symbol of the revolution) were raised, and standing in front of the blockages, walls and soldiers the protesters sang songs of freedom and shouted slogans expressing hope for peace, emancipation and independence.

The protest lasted an hour. When the announcer thanked those who came, declared that the protest had ended for that day and promised that the attendants and many other would continue to protest and knock on Jerusalem doors, the officers ordered the soldiers to disperse the protest and gas grenades were thrown at the crowd. As though it were all part of a ritual, the young man responded by throwing stones, ambulances arrived, the injured were taken care of as some were transferred to hospitals, the peddlers promoted their merchandise while those retuning from the Friday prayers at Al- Aqsa were streaming from the other side of the checkpoint back to their home, at Palestine.

-Until the upcoming Ramadan-the next protest- the upcoming revolution? Until the outburst of the September events?

The flowing link is to a video of the protest and it's dispersing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zY4t9BkWCwA&feature=related

Translation: Ruth Fleishman

Third Friday of the Ramadan

"Not yet fifty" was the key phrase.

On the morning of the third Friday of the Ramadan all the rule regulating the passage had changed: the criterions were more severe and all praying permits were cancelled. Fifty was the minimum age. Those younger by only a couple of days, men as well as women, with or without permits, were declined passage. Several hours later (at eight o'clock according to the officers), after the thousands that had wished to cross the checkpoint during the morning hours left in desperation, this "equality" between the genders was lifted and only the usual rules regarding women were implemented.

Two different groups were there, the group inside and the one outside.
Various military unites were inside, in the sterile zone, protected from grenades and rifles in the fortified site that was barricaded by metal fences, cement blockings and barbed wire.
While outside, surrounding the site, were thousands of men, women and children that had gathered from all around the West Bank, asking to realize the promise made by the sovereign who is obligated to protect the right for freedom of religion.
Order, discipline and hierarchy controlled the inside group, while the outside group was controlled by surprise, rage and chaos.    

People who had just a couple of days earlier received signed permits from the authorities that were to be used on that day, witnessed how the same hands that gave them their permits, denied both it and them with a simple hand gesture and a rude voice.  
Many men who up until the previous night were old enough to cross, had that morning become a threat, they ran helplessly between the gates, holding their documents out as evidence of their right, trying their luck for the second, the third and the fourth time.
But the gates and cracks were tighter than ever. The sterility was backed up with fishers' nets (in the military lingo) and almost no loopholes were to be found. The few, mostly teenage girls, that managed to slip passed the first row of soldiers, were caught soon enough and sent back through the "gate of the denied" which was a kind of "revolving door".
People from east Jerusalem found it hard to get back home: "not yet fifty" was the key phrase…

Among the people who were trying their luck was a person who two weeks earlier was framed by the soldiers, an event which we witnessed. The person told us that at the beginning he was taken to the police station at the checkpoint, from there he was transferred to Atarot and at the end of the day he found himself incarcerated in Ofer. In the mean time, while making their way from one place to the other, the people transferring him beat him. It was only on Sunday, two day after his arrest, that he was released on a 5,000 Shekel bail.
The link to the video documenting the event:
http://www.mahsanmilim.com/ramadan2011.htm
Two of the senior officers that commanded and supervised the event had a conversation: "Lots persons who are illegally staying in Israel cross here!..." said one to the other and they both nodded. Worried in face of the many people cramped up and the few that managed to pass, when the only criterion was the age specified on the person's ID, they didn't seem uncomfortable nor did they seem to dwell on the absurdity of the sight before them.

As the hours passed and the hour of the prayer in Jerusalem approached, the checkpoint was closed to elder men as well. It was the hour in which even the person's age didn't matter anymore. At the eastern side of the site, those who stood at the men's gate keeled on the ground and prayed in front of cement bricks, barricades, barbed wire and heavy machinery, before the eyes of the soldiers who saw and ignored this.  

Usually, at that point the laws regulating the passage are once again as before. However, this wasn't the case on that Friday. Closure was the regulation that faced those who waited for it to be noon, so that they could cross with use of their permits to Jerusalem. They were denied and sent home in shame, with a sound of the fortified soldier behind the front window, screaming at them.

According to the rules, a  Palestinian girl is not allowed to sleep at her grandmother's house, but the Reihan settlement wants 'social justice'.

6:10 A'anin CP
Only now, ten minutes late, are they opening the CP gates. Apparently they were simply waiting for us. About thirty people, a few tractors and a donkey arrive all together at the middle gate and are waiting to go through. Almost all those going through are men. Two young men are not allowed to go through. A few boys are waiting on the other side of the fence; they know that they will not be allowed to go through.

6:50. A family asks to go through. The mother shows the daughter's birth certificate; a girl aged 12. The girl is not allowed to go through. She is sent back with her brother. The girl does not want to leave her mother who has gone through the CP, and her brother holds her arm and pulls her in the direction of the village.  We do not understand why the girl is not allowed to go through. At the DCO, they say that nothing is said in the mother's permit about her being 'accompanied by 12 year olds'. The woman soldier at the CP has another argument: She has discovered the plot! She found that the mother has a bag of clothes (belonging to the girl?), a sign that the child intends to sleep at her grandmother's house 'in Israel! And she will or will not come back. I'm well acquainted with the mess' (the grandmother apparently lives nearby in Umm-el-Reihan, and not in Tel Aviv, God forbid). What is the sin, we wonder and the soldier answers that she also likes to sleep at her grandmother's house, but this (pointing at them) is against the rules (rules that apply to the girl and not to the woman soldier).

On our way to the Shaked-Tura CP, we met a farmer from A'anin on his plot of land. He points to the trees whose low branches have been licked and chewed by cows; the same cows of the resident of the Israeli Ein Sahala, that are doing damage to his land. (In the picture we can see the cows walking around in the olive groves, and none interfering with them.) He tells us that once he sowed onions in the shade of the trees, and put a fence around the plants. But that did not help. He says that the cows come by themselves without a herder and return to Ein Sahala in the evening. It has not helped to complain to the DCO and to the police. We saw the independent cows walking around in the area.

07:25 Shaked-Tura CP
Here, too, we are told that the CP was opened late. A herd of goats that we are acquainted with goes through to the seamline zone. A few people go through too. Only one woman goes through to the West Bank. The commander of the DCO, Kamil, arrives in a civilian vehicle. We ask to speak to him and we call him, but after looking in our direction he disappears. Three military jeeps arrive. In one of them, we see Menashe, the vice commander of the brigade; he stops and talks to us. We tell him about the girl from A'anin. He says that he will find out about it. He gives us a name and a telephone number because he is leaving in a week.

07:55 Reihan-Barta;a, Palestinian parking lot
(In the picture: a Shesh-Besh cube in the CP par, Occupation art)
The parking lot is not full. Perhaps because the Palestinian Authority has reinstated winter time, the tradesmen and workers of East Barta'a have not yet arrived. They are careful to let the few pedestrians go through in fives. A woman and her four children comes in together with five workers. The woman security guard in the hut immediately starts yelling: 'In fives, in fives! What has happened to you? You know this'.' They turned back and after a second, they entered again. Order must be preserved.

A driver complains about the difficulties of making a livelihood. The only alternative to work in transportation is in agriculture. An agricultural  worker on the West Bank earns fifty shekels per day. He speaks a fluent Hebrew since for a long time he worked in Israel; he also learned the language from the book: 1000 WORDS. It turns out that he worked for years, for a family in Pardes Hannah, friends of Shula's. And he knows a surprising number of details about the history of this family.

At the entrance to Reihan Settlement there are surprising and ridiculous signs: 'social justice', 'we want change', 'more money for education'. It seems that the Reihan settlers do not realize the injustice of their being there. Above the protest signs, there is a permanent sign inviting people to 'be guests of the Reihan Woods cheese' and behind them a sign announcing that 'a believer is not afraid'.

09:05 Jalameh CP
Many cars are parked at the opening of the terminal, something that is unusual. Among the vehicles in the vehicle CP, there are none that belong to Arab citizens of Israel. The passengers going to the Rambam Hospital are already waiting. No other people are going through at this time.

As soon as we exit our car at 06:20, we are approached by a man who complains that there is a new Civil Administration officer on duty (whom he names) and that, as a result, there is a mess this morning at Qalandia.  Indeed, the lines extend well beyond the covered waiting area, and a group of people are standing by the Humanitarian Gate but there’s no sign of the Civil Administration officer in charge of operating it. We phone the DCO to inquire about his whereabouts, and he arrives at about 06:25, opening the gate.

Long, slowly moving lines persist well beyond the three caged passageways until 7:20, although all five checking stations are open. We are also informed by a woman that the checking station for holders of Jerusalem (blue) IDs, on the other side of the vehicle checkpoint, is closed.

At 06:35 the Civil Administration officer chooses to inform us that he must leave and will return in ten minutes. For the next half hour, a large group of increasingly distressed people ― including a number of elderly women and a couple with an appointment at Hadassah Hospital for their infant ― stands before the Humanitarian Gate. As the “10 minutes” drag out into 20 and the crowd and its impatience grows, we call first the DCO and then the Humanitarian Hotline in Beit El, to no avail. At 7:03 a cheeky (as soon becomes apparent) security guard enters the checkpoint and announces that the Humanitarian Gate is “closed.” We explain that people have been waiting for up to half an hour for the officer who promised to return and operate it. But the security guard simply barks at us: “Closed, closed, closed. Can’t you understand?” – and seems to quite enjoy the consternation of all the people affected by this news.  Everyone ― the elderly, women and children ― begin to run toward the lines leading to the first turnstile; only the young father stands firm, shouting at the security guard and at us. The security guard then tells us to go join our friends in Ramallah. We reply that we hope his own mother and grandmother are never dependent upon his sense of decency.

Almost immediately thereafter, we note a delegation of officers, including the CA duty officer and the ranking CA officer of the Jerusalem Envelope, approaching the checkpoint. When we shout out to them that people have been waiting by the Humanitarian Gate for up to half an hour, we’re assured that it will now be opened.  Still, no one is in any hurry to relieve the stress, and it remains closed for another few minutes. One cannot avoid the feeling that this additional delay is designed to demonstrate who’s boss around here (in generic terms) and that the boss answers neither to distressed Palestinians nor to human rights monitors.

There are still about eight people in each of the three cage-like passageways when we  leave at 7:30 but few new people are arriving. A man we call later in the morning reports that it took him 1 hour and 20 minutes to traverse the checkpoint “because I was lucky and stood on a fast-moving line.”

As part of the “complaint-a-day” program, Hannah might consider filing a complaint about events at Qalandia this morning, which demonstrated the Civil Administration’s utter disdain not only for our Palestinian neighbors but for its own commitment to operate a Humanitarian Gate at this checkpoint during regular hours.

Left at 16:00

Sansana-Meitar Crossing

Workers were returning home earlier than usual due to Ramadan. They cross the border quickly. Also on the Palestinian side, there was much commotion, happiness, and joy: prisoners had been released from Israeli prisons and were greeted upon their return by women, men, children, and elderly relatives, the beating of drums and keening.  The parking area was crowded with the cars of those waiting for the prisoners to return.

Several kilometers from the crossing, we saw that the army had stopped a car with a returning prisoner and his family to check their identification.  We continued on route 60 which is being tarred for about a kilometer from the entrance to Yatir. This is a relatively new section of the road so it is not clear why it is being tarred. What is clear is that our taxes are paying for this road work.

Near Dura-Elfawwar there were several army vehicles on the side of the road. Soldiers were standing on both sides of the road and on the traffic island. There were also soldiers near the drinking water pool on the Elfawwar side of the road and in the fields across from the houses. They all had their guns drawn. We got down from the van to ask what was going down. We didn’t get a clear answer, just a smile, a wave of a hand, and something about youngsters throwing stones over there. On the road itself, traffic was flowing freely.

Hebron

Quiet. It was the hour that preparations were beginning for the meal to break the Ramadan fast (yesterday a local salesperson told me that they eat at 3:30 in the morning and then sleep until 13:00). While walking along Shuhda Street, we looked in the direction of Hadassah House and at the entry, could see two young children in bathing suits playing in a big plastic pool filled with water that ran over the sides of the pool onto the entry way. In stark contrast, across the street, if you look up beyond the barred windows to the roof, you will see the water containers that provide water to the Palestinian occupants who use it sparingly because it is so scrace.. 

Translating: Ruth Fleishman

Second Friday of the Ramadan 12.8.11

At the break of dawn of every Friday during the Ramadan month world orders change. From that moment on the laws that regulate the occupation at Qalandiya all these years, every day of the year, that define a person's "validity", that create a profile with which it is decided whether or not he is a threat- are replaced. Deferent laws and rules, deferent in essence and in source, take their place for several hours.

Usually the highest authorities to decide whether a person is granted or prevented passage at the checkpoint are the mysterious representatives of the secret services. During these four half days the date of birth on the person's ID is the only decisive factor.

Any other day of the year the individual must trouble himself to arrive at the gates' of the authorities, wait for hours in endless lines, hand in a request explaining the reasons why he would like to be granted a permit (=Tasrih), after all it is unthinkable that someone might pass Qalandiya checkpoint on a simple whim. Only after being inspected and coming out "clear", according to their judgment, that is: if it is found that no relative of his has been accused/ arrested/ taken for investigation or either accidently or intentionally injured by military forces, and he himself is not found to be a devious schemer, only then will he be granted an authorized and signed permit.
And then suddenly, during these half days, when an elder hand exhibits before the military man standing at one of the gates of the checkpoint, an open ID that proves his age, the person will pass the imaginary border and enter Jerusalem.  

But as secret services narrow the criterions that define whether elder pose any threats, it appears that the Palestinian children only grow more dangerous.  
Usually a Palestinian child is granted permission to pass when escorted by a relative and a birth certificate (=Kushan), proving that he has yet to turn 16 (the age when he ceases to be a juvenile). During these days, it would be unthinkable to grant a boy or a girl over 12 years of age, permission to pass.   

Perhaps it is due to exhaustion and adaptation that everyone accepts this.
In view of the innate contradictions between these passage rules and the ones implemented on other days, one cannot but notice that those who are responsible for the harsh restrictions well as for these temporal reliefs, aren't asked to give any answers regarding the reasons for this drastic change in the categories defining this large population as a threat, and whether there is a necessity to use the restriction all days of the year.  

But the facts show that none of the relevant active individuals- the ones executing this policy at the checkpoint, the victims of this system- nor the passive individuals- that observe, document and report, confront the heads of this system and the policy makers with the awful dissonance arising from the paradox of the policy change that had been described here. After all, it's not possible nor should it be accepted or ignored that an entire population is categorized as a ticking bomb.
Have we grown accustomed and by so have our senses been dulled?

BETHLEHEM -- THE PALESTINIAN SIDE

FRIDAY, 12.8.2011, SECOND FRIDAY OF RAMADAN

Access to the checkpoint is full of cars and a stream of pedestrians.  The first entry into the checkpoint is manned by Palestinian police men and women;  the second entry mostly by border police.  Much attention is paid to age and permits, but it seems that most manage to cross.  At the entrance to the checkpoint the same arrangements as last week are in place, and all moves swiftly.  When crowding happens, men too are directed to cross around the "terminal", thus preventing pressure at the magnometers.  The policepersons conduct themselves courteously towards those crossing.

Attention to age is strict, and here and there some were turned back.  Particularly youngsters over 12 without permits or unaccompanied by parents.  Like all teenagers, they desire to enjoy the blandishments of the big city.

Towards noon, there was a momentary scuffle at the first entrance, and it looked as though the Palestinian police might lose control, but order was soon restored.

We witnessed three occasions where a woman and two men tried to circumvent the usual entry to the lines; they were soon caught, taken to the main entrance, and sent back.  We were glad our fears that their IDs would be confiscated came to nought.

Average crossing: c. 15 minutes.  Some 30,000 worshippers crossed.  The first stream, mostly women, began at 3:00 a.m.  The checkpoint is open from 2:00 a.m.

Red Crescent personnel were present, but they had brought only one wheelchair -- insufficient for the number of persons who needed it.  We remarked on this, and hope that next week there will be more wheelchairs.