Ar Ram, Qalandiya 20.02.06 p.m.Observers: Michal Z, Lizi s.Ar-Ram A border policeman stops cars for inspection in the middle of the road. Because not every car was being checked, we asked him whether in that case, why doesn’t he stand by the side. In any case, in another few metres, there is an additional soldier at Ar-ram who is checking all the incoming cars. His face showed astonishment at our request, but he acquiesced.At Ar-Ram itself, a border policewoman was checking the IDs of all entering vehicles. She was chewing gum to beat the band and while she was talking to those being checked, she was blowing bubbles that sometimes blew up on her face. She was detaining a young girl in a cab who was on her way to an after school activity who did not have an ID. The girl called her father and the incident was checked while the soldier continued blowing bubbles. I wanted to speak to her commander but when I got close to him, I saw that he too was chewing away. After the girl was released, I nevertheless spoke about this to the soldier and her commander. But then I understood that just as there is no such thing as an “enlightened occupation”, it is impossible to expect a courteous inspection. The very essence of checking civilian population by soldiers is degrading and the relationship towards the people will be in the same vein.Qalandiya.The army explained the closing of the road from what used to be the intersection to the direction of the territories: there is a sign reading “beware of falling stones”.Those at the intersection expressed their pain at losing their means of support as a result of “the falling stones” once again. One of them said that in Abu Dis, border police soldiers go into shops and check documents for income tax purposes!!!The sign, “hope for all of us ” has been taken down. It would be interesting to know whether it is for repairs or whether the complaints did the trick..A little girl with a ponytail, a diaper protruding from her panty and a questioning look in her eyes was trying to play with her father who was tense because she wanted to play at the checkpoint. — an army installation. He held her hand and she looked at him with a puzzled expression. He held on to her from outside of the checkpoint. Sweet young girl, forgive us.Well-groomed women in worn shoes. The passageways in Qalandiya do not allow for anything else. Another grilled gate that enables the checkpoint to be closed to pedestrians. On our way to the checkpoint for vehicles, there are kiosks with toys, fruits and vegetables, nuts, second hand books, children’s clothing and a banana vendor. As was stated in previous reports, the passageway for pedestrians to the checkpoint is blocked and now they must walk several hundred metres to reach it. Children, women in dresses, men and old people try their luck by climbing over the blocks of concrete as a short cut but the road should, in fact, be free and accessible. The peddlers and the people express their anger at the blockade that was set up by the army (and not by the taxi drivers).One man turned to me and said “you are like them, you are with them, you shouldn’t be here!” I asked why he thinks that and he said, “because your father, your sons and your grandchildren are part of that army and you are concerned with them.” The peddlers tried to calm him down but he remained steadfast in his contention that we have no purpose in being there. And then, minutes after he left us, an inspector from Bir Zeit, who has been writing about the Qalandiya checkpoint for a year and a half approached us and said, “you are our hope”. We exchanged personal info and promised to stay in touch.In order to appreciate the vile filth in this place where municipal taxes are paid to the Jerusalem council, I imagined a triangle whose sides are each approximately 4 metres long and here is what it contains: metal coils decorated with nylon bags, gravel, empty cartons, clean and dirty bottles, torn clothing, one strawberry, remains of a chair, a woman’s pair of shoes, packages of perfume, cans, plastic netting, fruit peel, broken flashlights, broken umbrellas, and pieces of a metal fence. When we arrived at Qalandiya, I had on appropriate shoes but I am always careful about one item which connects me to the other world in which I live.The passage at the checkpoint was quick. It is possible to understand why the men undergo a more rigorous and slower check than the women. There is no clear direction in the inspection lanes and we looked for the line for workers. On our way out, a soldier was standing and directing a team (writer and photographer) of the army spokesperson. “We allow free passage into the territories to residents of the territories”. We intervened. “And how do you know who is not a resident of the territories? In spite of this, there are inspections”. He was confused and continued with the prepared speech. “There will be free passage to residents of the territories. It will be open.”Ar-RamA soldier was eating pizza and speaking on the telephone to her boyfriend while checking IDs. We asked if there were detainees and she said “no”. We asked if there were any at all, and she answered, “generally”. And then we saw 7 detainees who had been there for a half hour. She was baffled that she had not noticed them at all. “We just got here”, she explained. 7 people were standing next to the checkpoint. We asked the person in charge what’s going on and if they were being dealt with, and while he was stuffing the pizza in his mouth, he replied: ” I am allowed to hold them for three hours”. I explained to him, and not pleasantly, my opinion on his behaviour. I went over to speak to the detainees and a soldier called to me: “Hey, watcher, are you going to complain about me?” Of course, I did not reply. He was angry and forbade me to speak to him. He lined them up, but at least, he started filling out the forms. I felt like a battered woman who must be pleasant to her abusive husband because otherwise things could be even worse.