Anabta, Jubara, Sunday, 4.12.05, PM Observers: Aliya S., Gal T., Susan L. (reporting)Summary Perhaps it’s not appropriate to quote The Book of Ecclesiastes, but there’s both wisdom and poetry therein as well as an impression that fits today’s shift: “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.” At Anabta, it would be true to say: “There’s nothing new under the sun, and it’s the same old goings on under the moon too.” But at Jubara, something new, a slight glimmer of hope under the sliver of the sickle moon above, was sensed, with no thanks to the Occupation…..15:45 AnabtaThe checkpoint at the junction with the main road is no more. The tower of boulders still decorates the areas where it was last week, but the brand new, just improved checkpoint has moved a hundred meters or so further towards Tulkarm, well beyond the red sign with its Hebrew letters, telling us that we’re entering the Palestinian Authority and quite close to the leather curing factory. The checkpoint sits at the foot of the grey military tower, until now unused. The coils of razor wire still sit along the northern side of the road, blocking the bucolic scene beyond. The valley, so breathtaking even during the era of the unmanned barrier at Anabta, is gradually being worn down — desecrated of its pristine beauty. Three soldiers, for the first time in a long while at this checkpoint, soldiers who are relaxed, willing to communicate, seem to check vehicles randomly. A Hummer sits on the side, sometimes a soldier enters the tower, comes out with coffee. One bus is stopped, IDs checked outside, but the passengers remain inside. Another bus is waved on, the same is true for taxis and other passing vehicles. Everything moves quickly. Maybe while we’re there? But each driver is asked a host of questions, just like at the airport!The sergeant tells one of the other two soldiers to “keep your eye on the boy in the red shirt.” In the water meadows beyond the tower a boy, a young boy, is minding three cows. Black and white cows. A gorgeous and rare sight in a countryside where sheep and goats preponderate. Even when viewed through the coils of razor wire. 16:35 JubaraA different group of soldiers, no problem today in stopping at Abu Ghatem’s parking place; he’s back outside, enjoying the mild December weather, selling coffee and sweetened sage tea. 16:40 Gate 22 or Gate 753 or Children’s Gate or Agricultural Gate As there is still some light, together with a perfectly shaped sickle moon, we drive up to Gate 22, otherwise known as Gate 753 (is it possible that since there are a number of gates, of different shapes and varieties, maybe put in place at different times during the building of the separation barrier, that there are, indeed, different official numbers?)A Hummer departs soon after our arrival, leaving two soldiers who point out that they will stay until 17:30 when the gate closes. (Of course, on the gate itself, the time is different — 17:00). Not a soul in sight — just the lights on the distant so-called main road between Qalqiliya and Tulkarm. The vehicles move slowly. We know why: the condition of the roadway. The evening is so soft and still that we hear them bumping their way through the oncoming darkness. Outside the village shop in Jubara, we’re greeted by a sight which, thus far, has been spotted only on the other side of the separation barrier: a large sign, in English (and Italian) proclaiming an emergency “programme” of “support to Palestinian farmers in wall-affected areas of Qalqiliya and Tulkarm for cisterns for agricultural use and land reclamation.” The sign is dated 2005, and we know it’s recent. Already the greenhouses, which a short while ago were dilapidated and coverless, are sheathed in new plastic coverings. The plight of the Palestinians, at least along the separation barrier, is being heard and responded to. A glimmer of hope?