Hebron, Sansana (Meitar Crossing), South Hebron Hills, Tarqumiya, Mon 2.1.12, Morning

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Hagit B., Michal T., (Reporting)

Guest: Shachar

Translator:  Charles K.


Meitar crossing

Many laborers arrived despite the rain and fog. They’re waiting on the Israeli side of the crossing for their employers to pick them up

Route 60.

Nothing out of the ordinary along the road.  The weather affects everyone.


The security guard at the entrance to Kiryat Arba again asks who we are, and we again must remind him that we’re all citizens with equal rights [that’s what’s written, at least] and that it’s unacceptable to demand an ID only from someone who doesn’t look Jewish. Again he explains that he has the authority and instructions from the police to ask for IDs.  Again he calls “big brother;” what a quixotic battle in one of the bastions of Israeli racism.  We’ll continue; even stones are worn away by water. 

Golani soldiers in the town since last Thursday. Their signs stand out at the base at the entrance to town.

Rain, fog and bone-chilling cold.

Hagit and Shachar again walk along the new apartheid path which is marked similarly to those of the Nature Protection Society, indicating the shortcut for residents of Tel Rumeida, beginning at the stairs up to the Cordova school/

I remain with our driver because of what has happened in the past; it’s not a good idea to leave him alone here.

They, of course, run into a soldier who reminds them that this path is restricted to the Jewish residents of Tel Rumeida.  And, of course…a bottle is thrown at them from one of the trailers.

That’s how it ends this time.  Otherwise, nothing special occurred.

Next to one of the houses along the road down from Tel Rumeida to the Tarpa”t checkpoint we met a man who lives there.  He’s a physician working in town, in the H1 area. 

Everything is ok,” he says.  It’s hard, of course, that I can’t drive my car from home to the hospital,” but everything is ok.

Everything is deserted and closed down, even – by and large - around the Cave of the Patriarchs.  There are always Jewish visitors coming in groups, despite the weather.

We drove home via the Tarqumiya crossing

Highway 35

Quiet and deserted.  The soldiers came down from the pillbox next to the grocery but haven’t detained anyone.

At Tarqumiya they’re as “nice” as ever.  Again the questions – who are we, where did we come from.  Again asking to see only M’s ID.  We insist they check ours also.  Again they send us to the inspection area on our right.  They open and inspect the car.  Again they ask for our IDs.  The inspector smiles apologetically.  “Orders.”  “Can’t she exercise any discretion?” we ask.  Can’t you see we’re not security risks?  A shrug.  “Do you also ask residents of Telem and Adura for IDs?”

“Yes,” she replies grudgingly.  Why don’t we believe her?