Beit Iba, Sunday, 23.10.05, PM Observers: Lior G., Susan L. (reporting)Summary Children’s playground games are hardly games. They are physical and verbal outdoor exercises devised by groups of children for their own entertainment. As the rules and names of these games are passed down orally, there are many regional and generational variations. Many of these games are extremely old and have been played in one form or another for centuries. The outset determines the initial set-up of a game, e.g. who is “it” or which players are on which team. Among the oldest games is “tag” in which there’s a decision made before the start as to who is “it” or “on” and is up against the remainder of the players. “Tag,” “hide and seek,” “catch-as-catch can” manifest themselves as universal examples in many variations in many cultures and many parts of the world. A narrow example of such children’s playground games, which are hardly games, is afforded by the behavior of soldiers in the Occupied Territories. 13:50 SarraThe water truck slowly being filled from the pipe atop the out-of-bounds cliff is, we’re told, by the drivers of the Japan government donated water truck, only the fourth of the day, serving as we already know, the three villages beyond the strategically placed boulders at the entrance to Sarra. Can’t we do anything at all, is the plea from the Palestinians. A wild sound of revving up, and a screeching of brakes of the Hummer that comes to a sudden stop by us, puts an end to our short visit: we’re told that we’re out of bounds, and the Hummer follows us back to the road. (The game of driving a Hummer this way is common to all we encounter in the Occupied Territories, on this, as on every other shift).14:00 Beit IbaThe taxi drivers waiting for Palestinians returning home for “iftar” at the end of this day’s fast, tell us that the economy is on the rocks, that the soldiers are worse all the time, and they wonder whether Abbas’ visit to Bush will improve the situation. We’re surprised that they even have hope!14:20 At the vehicle check post, five soldiers: one stands, availing himself of the well known non-verbal but sophisticated game of “hand signals” to beckon to an ambulance, to stop a car from standing at this invisible spot instead of that invisible spot, showing great proficiency, since only one hand is used, the other, of course, being placed on his gun. Another soldier stands at the checkpost itself, behind the concrete boulder, doing nothing, but just standing at the ready, his machinegun, propped on its legs, making it look like a gigantic centipede. Checking is slow, this game is being played in slow motion14:40 At the central checkpoint two of the three carousels near us are working. We are asked, twice on this shift by men coming from Nablus, to beg the soldiers to separate the lines for men and women. During Ramadan’s daylight hours, the separation of men and women is mandatory. The soldier in charge of the checkpoint, “no name” is his name (once again), is best at doing absolutely nothing, or at telling us: “That’s what there is, so be it.” But there’s a captain inside the checkpoint who deigns to listen. He also hardly bothers to check IDs of people going into Nablus, spending time on the laptop computer which usually blocks the window, confusing the Palestinians as to where they’re meant to show their IDs! 14:50 Shouting is a well known children’s game, often used to see who can shout loudest: both here and at Jubara (see separate report), making a din is in fashion: “Girls, girls, don’t you hear me, move, get on with it,” yells one of the soldiers at the central checkpoint to the young women standing at the far series of turnstiles. Not one of them raises her voice, the soldier goes on shouting, but neither he nor the nameless commander move to find out why this group is standing meekly at the turnstile. One of us suggests, calmly, to the noisy “children,” that maybe the turnstile is no longer working. That is indeed the case. The two noisy soldiers go to the turnstile, proving to themselves, that, indeed, it doesn’t work. They soon have another turnstile opened, proving, once and for all, that the turnstiles do work, that it is the soldiers who’ve decided to use but one – to make life for the “it” in this horrendous game even tougher. 15:00 A few women make use of the turnstile near to us, to try to get to the checking area separately from the men. Again, it doesn’t work? The question is posed to the captain, still inside the central checkpost. He insists that it does work. Ah ha, but who has the “right” to make it work, to press not one, but two buttons? The soldier seated next to him inside! It’s too much, of course, for him, to handle two turnstiles, and to check IDs and also glance at the list of numbers deemed by suspicious by those who probably have no idea of the games that soldiers play at checkpoints. And at the compound where the DCO representative usually stands (nobody here today) are two soldiers, one — the “shouter” — the other, the commander with no name, doing no work, not deigning to help out in checking IDs, but telling us that we confuse the soldiers at their work! He devises inventive new games for himself, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the door of the checkpost, as Palestinians wait, as other soldiers check IDs and packages and frequently check the other soldiers’ weapons, both here and at the vehicular checkpoint. 15:15 Lunch arrives. The soldiers manage to do something sensitive and eat inside the central checkpost, while, of course, slowing down the checking, which could have been arranged in shifts. But this game is mindless. So people wait long…..15:45 A bus, coming out of Nablus, has been standing at the checkpoint for 30 minutes. The driver says not one soldier has been to check inside. Yet there are eight soldiers at the checkpoint. We arrive; two of them enter the bus, and checking proceeds! Meanwhile, one of those screeching Hummers arrives, having done a fancy pirouette, and places itself squarely across the path of the bus which is now ready to go on its way. (Note: only an hour and fifteen minutes to get home for the end of today’s fast)! The MachsomWatch women having also learned non-verbal hand gestures, use them, and wonder why on earth have you done that? A soldier, answers in kind: just a moment as his mates, talking non stop, now enter the Hummer and they drive off (at breakneck speed, of course). ….And then there were three – soldiers at the vehicular checkpoint. 15:50 A white jeep arrives with three men, who all have to descend as the soldiers gleefully comb the jeep, pull out some handcuffs and laugh. The men tell us they’re Palestinian Police (but, to the soldiers, they’re another “it”).16:00 The checking is slow, only 8 vehicles now from Deir Sharaf, including buses which are also checked in slow motion. 16:15 The strong, dusty wind has been spewing black smoke from a factory near the Qesin junction. The smoke has steadily been getting worse over the past couple of hours, a plastics factory, the carpentry brothers tell us as they make their way home for “iftar.” Finally, the sirens of fire trucks, two of them, are heard as they wail their way past the checkpost, from Nablus, and go to the factory. The soldiers take not the slightest notice (they had taken no notice during our shift). After all, a fire with belching black smoke next to the checkpoint is not part of the initial set up to their “game.”