I went back to my report of last year on Ramadan from 7 April 202, and to my surprise, I found several sentences that whirled around in my head this morning during my observation:

Never have I seen the checkpoint so quiet and empty on Ramadan. . . people voted with their feet (didn’t come to a place they were wary of). . . supposedly they feared to come because of the tension, the events, the ease of a trigger finger thanks to the police commissioner? . . . Only a few women came along with a few children whom one can count on the fingers of two hands . . no feeling of celebration, no smiles, no holiday clothes.  On the Israeli side a few buses waited in line, as usual, but they filled up slowly without crowding and having to form lines.

When I arrived, the soldier blocked the road immediately after the turn in the direction of the checkpoint. He requested me to stand to the side and then called his supervisor in order to understand what Machsom Watch was and if I was allowed to cross. After he asked if I had a journalist’s document and not just a Machsom Watch tag.  I explained to him that I am not a journalist, but a member of Machsom Watch. After a consultation, he said that I can pass through, but he didn’t allow me to park in the usual place ( on the side of the road that leads to the checkpoint); rather, he directed me to park closer to the intersection, in a sandy area, where construction was going on.  He told me:  “There, you can park on one of the terraces.”

I walked to the checkpoint and saw many soldiers and many buses waiting for worshippers, and a few people who arrived in small groups.  This was not like past years when throngs of people made their way to pray at the mosque.  Today, there is no crowding.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to get closer to the interior courtyard; there I would leave the checkpoint after the inspection, and from there, walk to the buses.  They didn’t allow me to do this.  I asked one of the soldiers if he knows how many people already passed through, and how many are expected today.  He wasn’t certain, but said, “I think there are about 2,000 Palestinians who received permits to cross here.  That’s many fewer than last year because the number of those who received permission to go to Al Aqsa was decreased.” So many fewer?  It looked entirely unreasonable to me.  An hour after this, I asked one of the attendants who directed people to which bus to board, and he told me that according to him, up until now, fewer than 2,000 people had passed through.

I spoke with a woman who stood next to me, obviously waiting by the bus for someone who hadn’t left yet.  She told me that the conditions were difficult. . . that few people received permission, that one needs to present a permit and also a magnetic card.  This further decreases the number who, in the end,  are allowed to leave.  She told me that during the time she stood on the Palestinian side in order to pass inspection, she saw six men who were sent back because they came without their magnetic cards, despite having permits and despite the fact that they were the appropriate age.

The attendant with whom I spoke asked if I could help him get an Israeli identity card.  He is married to a resident of Jerusalem.  She and their children have Israeli identity cards, but he hasn’t had a refusal so far.  I suggested that he speak with Sylvia and her staff, who deal with helping those who are not permitted to enter Israel.

On Wed, Apr 3, 2024 at 1:44 PM BAR <[email protected]> wrote:

שלום מרשה
קבלי דוח לתרגום. תודה מראש, שולי