6.30
a.m. 
Anata

Quite
heavy traffic (usual for Thursdays, said a soldier) and many pedestrians.  Car trunks were checked.  No unusual
delays.

7
a.m.  
A-Ram

From
our car, we saw no pedestrians at that time.  There was a line of 11 cars waiting
while a bus was being checked .

7.15   
Qalandiya

After
the relief of last Thursday’s quiet watch, this morning was once again the scene
of frustrated crowds pressing against the two functioning turnstiles.  A man in the queue told us that
yesterday all three were open.  We
checked with the one helpful soldier who explained that this very morning one
had been broken, so was chained closed.

Once
again there were people climbing over the tops of the
turnstiles.

The
special gate at the side was opened now and again.  For the first time we noticed that
people going through this gate first stop in an enclosure and then pass through
a turnstile.  (Is this a new
addition, or have we just been unobservant in the
past?)

There
were more personnel – police and soldiers – in the outside compound.  At least one policeman seemed to be
getting training to learn the local
arrangements.

All 5
gates were open but were working very slowly. At one we saw an elderly woman
with a walker – her companion pressed the button and the ‘humanitarian’ gate
soon opened for her.

However, at the outside turnstiles there were a few
disabled people.  Apart from a woman
in a wheelchair there was an elderly man who, people in the queue told us, was
ill and had on previous occasions fainted while waiting.  First Mili phoned the ‘Chamal Matak’ and
spoke to someone (who wouldn’t give his name) who said that perhaps she, Mili,
was lying! So we phoned Dudu who quickly arranged for the side gate to be
opened.  All the people who were
anyway waiting at this gate went through (including the lady in the wheelchair),
leaving ‘our’ man facing a locked gate. 
We tried arguing the case with the soldier in charge but he wasn’t
prepared to believe  that he really
was not well.  (As if the people in
the queue would so easily let someone jump queue without justification!)  Not wanting to trouble Dudu or
antagonise him any more, we gave up. 
We finally saw the man passing through a gate
inside.

We
came away from the Machsom sickened by the sheer lack of any sympathy.  And also, as Israelis, with a strong
sense of shame at the joking casual behaviour of  the soldiers. The woman soldier in
particular – whether out of malice or plain stupidity –  seemed to treat the whole experience as
one big joke.  At about 9 a.m. she
was joined by another woman and then they really let rip!  As soon as they had finished their
initial gossiping, they pulled faces at us through their window, took
photographs of us (or pretended to) and the newcomer also leaned out of the door
yelling a few (presumably uncomplimentary) words at
us.

A
large group of prisoners’ families went through by about
9.

At
9.20 when we left there was still a crowd at the outside turnstiles.  We couldn’t get close enough to check
whether the DCO was open.