Ar-Ram, QalandiyaTuesday, 16.11.2004 – PMWatchers: Norah O. Roni H. Aya K. Susanne (guest) and Iris B. (reporting)Ar-Ram 15:00Police abusive behavior towards the young peddlers at Ne’ve Ya’acov intersection continues. On our way to Ar-Ram we meet two children whom we have known very well for a long time now. Today they are selling colorful markers. They tell us that around 10, while they were selling their merchandise around the French Hill intersection, a police car arrived, confiscated their markers and also beat them. I would like to comment that we know that the family income depends solely on these children – four of them, the youngest (H.) is 7 years old, the oldest is 12. While we chat with them, trying to comfort a bit, H. points towards a police car that stops in the intersection waiting for the green light, claiming that this is the car that they told us about. Aya runs towards the car and she is informed concisely that they are being sent by the Jerusalem municipality to execute a well established law whereby peddlers are not allowed to sell anything at the intersection even more so when they are Palestinians who reside in the occupied territories. Those of us who live in Tel Aviv are well aware of the many beggars and peddlers selling all sorts of foods. Do the police so efficiently execute the law there? I’m doubtful. What is certain is that it is much easier to confiscate a child’s several packs of markers, and beat him as well while doing so. Confiscating is a well-established law, and beatings? Realistically speaking, the children can’t actually file a complaint against the policemen. More so, the children are trapped. Their markers were taken (a loss of quiet a lot of money) but they have more markers they can sell, and they HAVE to sell them, otherwise they can’t go back home. And so they stand there again, during hot summer days, and freezing winter days, walking the long distance from one intersection to another and constantly being threatened by the police. The day’s events and general life blows are well evident in each and every cell of the children’s body and their nonverbals. Yet again, we stand feeling very helpless. My story doesn’t end here. When we return from Qalandiya we meet the children once again. Around 16:00 the police had confiscated their markers again, this time in Ne’ve Ya’acov intersection. H., tears in his beautiful eyes, tells the story and off he goes towards Ar-Ram with several new packs. It is 18:00, they have been trying to sell the markers since early morning. Until what time? Later, when we cross Ar-Ram’s checkpoint we meet H. who points at a police car parking nearby. We talk with the policewoman who sits inside the car. H. stands next to her and she gently strokes his head she says, “Go ahead, ask him whom does he love? Such a cute child..” She explains in great detail that she is, in fact, protecting him because he may get hurt while standing at the intersection moving from one car to another. We tell her about the beatings and we disclose the number of the police car we wrote down earlier. She says that this is not “their” car – of police department in Ne’ve Ya’acov. We tell her a little about the family, point that the children have to earn their living, claim that there are other intersections downtown where peddlers are not being abused… nothing helps. The hand that pats, is the hand that confiscate by law. And the heart is icy. No dissonance what so ever. How is your sleep dear policewoman? Cute H.’s beaten face does not appear in your dreams?We ended buying the rest of the markers from the children, paying enough money for them to go back home. It was already 20:00. What will tomorrow hold? And the day after tomorrow?Ar-Ram 15:15Random checks for cars making their way north towards Ramallah. Qalandiya 15:45At this hour, relatively few people and cars make their way around the famous Qalandiya roundabout. Except one or two fruit stands, commercial activity has disappeared entirely. This emptiness emphasizes so powerfully the misery of the checkpoint and its surrounding area. Filth, rusted wire, huge blocks everywhere that make movement so rough, and tens of the wall’s pillars lay on the ground in perfect order, ready to make the lives of ten of thousands of people unnoticed from the “outside”. Carousels have not been placed back and those that were left work only (surprise, surprise) if there is electricity. And if there isn’t? Well… people will have to wait. Meanwhile, a group of new soldiers is being taught a lesson or two about how to operate the checkpoint. This is yet another reason to halt movement altogether. Then, the ”humanitarian” exit is opened, but the “regular” one remains closed. And in the background of it all one cannot not hear, nor ignore, the soldier’s offensive way of talking to people. Around 16:30 movement gets busier, mainly towards Ramallah. Lots of people return from the holiday. At 17:30 a handicapped woman, accompanied by two other women and a young man is crossing the checkpoint. Suddenly, the man is being detained because he wears a shirt that on it a picture of the late president Arafat and a slogan of the Fatah movement. We know this for sure because we hear the checkpoint commander says so. Surprisingly enough, a check against the SHABAK was real quick – usually it takes up to three hours to verify details about a detainee. This time it took about five minutes… Emil’s, as well as a lawyer that witnessed the incident, intervention brings about his quick release. To summarize it all, it was yet another day in hell. A regular day. Supposable minor events that maybe a different shift would choose not to report at all. Yet, it is important for me to express some sort of context – a decoration that, when lacking, makes it impossible to fully convey the horrors of the Israeli occupation. A picture, words, a short clip, maybe combined into a life-size volume, will waken those who choose not to see, not to hear, not to understand and therefore to accept with no protest whatsoever.