Jubara and Anabta, Tuesday AM 2 May 2006 Watchers: Elinoar B., Maya M. (reporting)Jubara, 6:15-7:00 At Tulkarm, there are hardly any people passing. At Gate no. 22 few dozen men and women are being checked. On our way there a military jeep stops by us and a soldier asks of the impression we get about how things are at the checkpoint. We get the impression that he is being ironic, and although answering courteously he went on to try and convince us to drive back, “for our own safety”, secured by the jeep. We turned down the offer. At the gate, women are being let through relatively quickly, and the men are commanded to lift their shirts up and turn around. On the road to Ar-Ram we see no queues, of neither cars nor pedestrians. We meant to continue to Beit-Iba and to stop at Anabta on our way back, but we stayed in Anabta because of the following (events) . Anabta, 07:00-09:00 Near Ramin, we see a group of dozens of men and women, old and young, walking along the road heading Anabta, with two soldiers marching by. We stop and ask what’s going on and are told that the group was caught in Ramin, some of the people have their IDs taken from them, and all are being returned to Anabta for a check. We drive to Anabta to wait for them there and to watch the checkpoint. Upon our arrival a young man approaches us and says that he and some others were caught this morning while in a taxi around Ramin. He says that the seizure was violent, that they were ordered to lie on the ground and had their heads stepped on. He also told us that the taxi lights were shattered, that the car was damaged and that the driver was taken, probably to Shavei Shomron. A long line of cars and trucks spreads from the checkpoint to the junction. A young man who just passed the check asks us to mediate between a woman and the soldier who is checking her. Before we make it there, the group walking all the way from Ramin arrives. They are being lined up – once on this side of the checkpoint, and then on the other side. And again, men on the left, women on the right. Again, a few meters back. The commander doesn’t speak to us. He says we’re disturbing his work. First phone call is of no help. The response we get is cynical and avoidant, like those of the soldiers. We tell the soldiers that it is not legal to take people’s IDs away without giving them any documents confirming it. “I know what’s legal”, the soldier says. Meanwhile it figures that only residents of Shufa, Safarin and Beit Lid are allowed to pass. [Ed. note: usual for this CP lately.] The young man we talked to before suddenly shows up again, angry and frustrated: “Tell him (i.e. the soldier) that you saw me here!” he begs us. A few meters after passing the checkpoint he was held up again by the soldiers in the jeep coming from Ramin. He was grabbed by the shirt and his ID was taken from him. He was ordered to stand in line again. No one is listening to us or to him, when we try to convince themthat he was checked and let through a few minutes ago! The reply: “If he’s ok, he’ll pass again”. “You are a Jew!”, he exclaims at the soldier desperately, “Why are you lying? I was here before!”.”No! You came from Ramin!” is the answer. And he stands in line again, with the rest, waiting, moving back when commanded. Everything is very slow. First, people are told that doctors and lecturers will be let through, and then – no. Everyone is told to go to Jubara checkpoint – and we know they will not be allowed to pass there. We make another telephone call, to make sure. This time a courteous soldier answers and confirms that indeed, they will not be allowed to pass at Jubara. We tell the news to the waiting women, at least they won’t drag themselves there for nothing. Anger is intensifying. A young woman tells us: “I want to set up a radio station, so people will know whether to come to the checkpoint or not, whether it is open or closed. At least we won’t come here for nothing.” People try to talk to the soldiers and explain their situation. The instructions are: there’s a closure in effect. Once in a while they are being shoved back, sometimes there’s yelling: “Move your feet away from here!!!”. Once in a while the soldiers ask for a Hebrew-speaking man in the crowd to “explain” to everyone that no one will be let through, apart for special “cases” whose specifications change every ten minutes. People are furious. A man, 45 years old, wearing a suit, trembling with anger comes up to us and says: “All of us here are willing to kill ourselves. I already have nothing; I’m ready to bomb myself”. Another man tells us: “You press, and press and press, at the end people explode”. A phone call with the brigade commander: we say there’s a mess, that people are frustrated, that they were led from Ramin like a herd. He promised to take care of things. On the way back we see the familiar car bringing mail to the checkpoint. Usually the mail is being carried across and loaded onto a Palestinian car. Today the mailmen came with the hope of being permitted to drive to the other car at the checkpoint without having to carry everything by themselves. It seems there’s no hope for that. Most people were sent back home, only few were let through. The commander’s tone of voice was softer towards the end of our stay, but it did not change the fact that dozens of people who tried to get to school, to work, to their families, some walked across the mountains, were caught at the road and ordered to walk back, waited for hours for a check, were being pushed and humiliated – were turned back to where they came from. “Why?” they asked us. The most absurd answer of all was given by the commander: “Today is Independence Day.”