We arrived at the Olives Checkpoint at 7:30, an hour and a half before closing. This is the daily time period for entry into Jerusalem and Israel that the Civil Administration has allocated since 7.10.23 to residents of the Central West Bank, the Jordan Valley, Jericho, and sometimes also to residents of the South Bank when the Bethlehem checkpoint is busy or closed.

At the entrance from Jerusalem, there are register checkpoints set up for those returning home, so they can monitor whether those passing through have exceeded their allotted time in Israel/Jerusalem, and woe betide those who do.

The area beyond the checkpoint, the town of Al-Eizariya, is defined as Area B, and we cross to the Palestinian side and back, facing external iron gates, through which we must enter the inner compound at the end of which are the checkpoints. At the external iron gates, only one turnstile operates, admitting about 10 people every 15-20 minutes. It’s impossible to communicate with the operator and request humanitarian entry. The intercom does not work. 

Thus we found ourselves in a packed line of about 50 men and women of all ages on their way to work or the hospital, crying toddlers, students from behind, and everyone impatiently waiting for the green light to bring them inside. Across from them, in an armored glass booth, sat a crossing soldier/policeman playing on his phone. He didn’t glance at the desperate people waiting in front of him.

Suddenly an alarm sounded. No one is impressed or moves from their place. We tried calling all the phone numbers we had, and finally we got a cell phone number of an officer in the Jerusalem perimeter DCO. He answered and promised to check and take care of it, but three-quarters of an hour passed, the time for closing was getting shorter, more and more people arrived. The pressure was increasing. 

A nurse and medical student at Al Quds University, married to a Jerusalem resident with two daughters, told us about what happens every day at the Olive checkpoint. She has been trying for 10 years to obtain family reunification without success. She works in Silwan and never knows when she will get to the clinic.

After about an hour, we made it through the outer gate and reached another line. After 10 minutes, they opened a station for women and students. The inspection booth was crowded – 4 police officers and a commander who knew us. What was everyone doing there, and why weren’t enough stations opened for fast passage? The commander replied that the computer wasn’t working and the alarm was taking time. We weren’t convinced. 

We have another, more sinister hypothesis. It’s all intentional: they’re moving in slowly, taking their time with the inspection, that’s how time passes. Why should it be easy for the Palestinians to get to Jerusalem? A few minutes before nine they announce that the crossing is closed. Too bad for anyone who stays outside.

On the way back to Highway 1, we stopped and photographed the extensive drilling work on both sides of the road: one new road is intended for improved access to a-Tur and Mount Scopus above. The work opposite is on the Sheikh Inbar Tunnel, which will carry Israelis only under the Palestinian neighborhoods of the Mount of Olives and Abu Dis to Wadi Qadum and up to the Silwan neighborhood. This week we learned that a beautiful apartment building in Wadi Qadum, home to about a hundred people, has received a demolition order. Everything fits into the grand plan.

We decided to go visit the UNRWA school in the Shuafat refugee camp. A month ago, it received a closure order, and last week, in the middle of a class, they took out the students (800 students, boys and girls separately) and closed the gates forever. All as part of the government’s decision not to allow UNRWA activities in Israeli territory. All within the framework of the government’s decision not to allow UNRWA activities in Israeli territory. (Interestingly, this specific Israeli territory remains behind the separation wall, has lost its municipal services, but demolitions continue as usual.)

Kamal, our driver – a blue license holder and former resident of the Mughrabi neighborhood near the Western Wall – has been studying there since 1967. We were still filming when Kamal’s childhood friend from school happened to pass by and the two exchanged stories. A young geography and history teacher at the boys’ school stopped by on his way to a Zoom lesson with the junior high school classes, but said that all the elementary school students were left at home without any framework.

Kamal took us to the office of the director of the UNRWA compound in the camp. Despite the annexation to Israel, UNRWA continued to handle all cleaning services and provide health services to the camp residents. The director seemed frightened and refused to speak to us.

Occasionally we visit a small Jerusalem municipality elementary school in the Shuafat camp which sits in a building that used to be a livestock market. We will visit again and hear what is happening to the children of the refugee camp who have been excluded from the education system.