Jalama, Reihan, Shaked, Tue 9.6.09, Afternoon

Translation: Bracha B.A.

14:30 – Jalameh Checkpoint
We drove Aya and her mother and another nine-year-old girl and her mother to Jalameh after picking them up at Rambam Hospital, after treatments.  Four men are waiting on the benches in the covered area for members of their family who went to Jenin and the surrounding area to shop or visit family. Israeli citizens are permitted to enter the Palestinian Authority every day, but cannot bring their cars. They claim that at other checkpoints Israeli citizens can bring their cars through, but only on Saturdays. Arabs coming back from the Territories complain about the lengthy checks and the derogatory attitude displayed towards them. At this hour there are many woman agricultural workers returning from their workday in Israel to Jenin and the surrounding villages.

15:15 Shaked-Tura Checkpoint
Passed through the inspection facility.  Several bored soldiers stand talking under the shelter.
“Bored?”  I ask.
“Yes, thank God,”  they answer.

Reihan-Barta’a Checkpoint, 15:45
We descended into the sleeve.  This is truly a “checkpoint that benefits the residents.”  There is a water cooler next to the turnstile.  A sign proclaims smoking is forbidden in the terminal and threatens a fine of NIS 1,000 to anyone who does.
Six people who entered Israel illegally are being detained.  According to them, their ID cards have been checked for the past hour.  They are standing in the shaded air-conditioned  terminal.  At 16:00 they were called to the rear window. There they waited until 16:30 to go out and when we left they were still inside.

At 16:00 the flow of people coming back to the West Bank has already begun.  Most of the people coming through are businessmen or simply people visiting family members in the seamline zone.  Later workers begin to arrive and emerged from the other side of the terminal within a few minutes.  The heavy traffic will apparently begin around 5:00, but we could not stay until then.

We drove down to the lower parking lot, which was very crowded with private vehicles with Palestinian license plates and a lot of taxis.  It was difficult to find a place to park.  Our acquaintance, M., told us about a new pillbox belonging to the army next to the village of Emricha.  A few people passed through in the direction of Barta’a and Israel: women, a girl.  We did not see them when they came out of the sleeve.