Barta’a, Shaked, Monday, September 19, 2005, AMObservers: Lea R., Ana N. (reporting)05:00 – We are informed by Salem District Coordination office (DCO) that closure is still on in Jalama and the back-to-back compound, so we decide to go to Barta’a.We travel on wide, very comfortable roads between olive orchards, reminding us that this new road was recently part of a grove that was cut down for the convenience of the occupier. At 06:00 the Barta’a CP is still closed. An Israeli employer is waiting for his employees. At 06:15 the CP opens. Closure is still on. Israeli citizens are not allowed to go through.More than 120 men and women are waiting, some after and some before a day’s work. All look quiet and tired, holding plastic bags. A Military Police woman soldier is also waiting: she will let them through only after having arranged two lines. In the meantime she chats with her colleagues. Now and then she raises her voice: “You, get in line, move it, move, I’ve already told you,” etc. She is chewing gum, sitting at a desk in the shade while a Palestinian stands above her, a parcel in one hand and his trousers’ belt in the other: a surrealistic office-like procedure in the middle of nowhere, between two strangers – with an ocean of hostility in between.The line moves with irritating slowness. During about one hour, just a few dozen people pass. More join the line, which still contains more than 100 people.The female workers of the Barta’a sewing workshop go through first. They stand at the beginning of the line, and those who are late join in with them. They are the only happy people we met in this place. During our entire shift we did not encounter any Israeli pedestrians or vehicles trying to go through in either direction. There are about ten cars at this early hour, and each is checked thoroughly and quietly. Not a word is exchanged between drivers and soldiers.An angry, nervous man approaches, speaking emotionally in English and in Arabic. He is from Barta’a and has all the papers needed. He had come around midnight to the gate with his teenage son, who had broken his leg. The CP was closed, but the soldiers let him go through to Ya’abed (I guess) for medical treatment, after he blew his horn loudly. At four AM he came back with his son in the car, and asked to bring his son back home and go to his work in Jenin. The CP was closed again and the soldiers wouldn’t open. Since then he has been waiting, exhausted, before his day’s work, with his son and another man in the car.The morning CP commander, A. (who is generally calm and pleasant) said: “Now I’ll teach him how to go wild in the CP. Now he’ll wait until I call him.” The man points at the fence that separates the CP from the security road: “These lands are my father’s, I grew up on this land; now they decide whether I can pass here or not.” Before we left, we were promised that the man would leave for home shortly. 07:30, ShakedSome 30 pupils from primary school, high school and vocational school in Jenin, are waiting. They are called for checking in groups of four. Checking is very slow. 08:10, Barta’aAbout 40 men and women are waiting to go through. The vehicle line is very long, at least 14 cars, including trucks. Our angry acquaintance is not there. Soldiers say he did not pass. Detainees (3-11) – They were allowed, for a change, to wait in the shade on the other side of the road, and were there from the time we arrived. The reason: waiting for the computer. We left at 09:00, as the soldiers were closing the gates to have their breakfast. At 10:30, Leah called one of the detainees, who told us that all of them went through just then.