Ar-Ram – Qalandiya, Wednesday 9.2.05 PMObservers: Daniela Y., Tami B., Eli L., Aya K. (reporting)3:00p.m. at Ar-RamFour men, an elderly couple and a younger one, Ramallah residents, are detained by the CP. “Caught” on their way from Jerusalem, about to cross the Ar-Ram Junction. The older woman is about 70 years, perhaps more, after an eye treatment at the hospital. They had already been standing for an hour and a half in the freezing cold. Tami approaches the soldiers, none of whom are willing to tell who the CP commander is, which amuses them no end. Some of them conceal their name tags by folding them.Tami called the person in charge of public complaints at Border Patrol HQ, made her point, and added that the soldiers had folded their name tags so as not to be identified. A promised to get back to her.Meanwhile, none of the soldiers bothers to even fill out their formal Occupier duty and fill out the official report form about the detainees and have them sign the form which is of course written in Hebrew, and the only clause in Arabic is their admission that no one had maltreated them, beaten them or stolen anything from them as detainees…Another “conscientious” soldier yells at the detainees not to lean on some cars that are parked at the spot, but to go over there, pointing to some rain-soaked wall. In other words, don’t be where you are now but go elsewhere, not of your own choice. Why shouldn’t they lean on them, we insisted… Is that your own car?And the soldier, scolding tirelessly, said with ceremonious righteousness:We don’t want them to disturb the neighbors. Those are their cars. Needless to mention that later, when Tami and I leaned on the very same car right in front of that very same “protector of the neighbors’ property”, this did not upset his moral antennae…A road for Jews only, democracy for Jews only, land rights for Jews only, life rights for Jews only, the right to murder and kill (not Jews, especially Palestinians) for Jews only, and now the right to lean on cars for Jews only…In the meantime A (of the so-called complaint department) got back to Tami and very excitedly disclosed that any minute now, the senior officer, deputy company commander M is about to arrive. But he’ll be coming secretly, as a surprise, we mustn’t let the soldiers know. Because, apparently, of the whole “story” (about 4 unfortunate people who did nothing wrong other than to be born to the “wrong” race, and all they wanted was to be in the greater Jerusalem area – what’s so wrong about that? – and were caught like thieves, stood in the cold for a long time, without anyone making the least effort to at least get out of there as quickly as possible. Is their life as Palestinians under the Occupation not hard enough? Obviously none of the soldiers suspected them of anything, nor was afraid of them. Their IDs weren’t even checked. They are not ordered further away, their belongings not examined, and still they are being tortured, just for the hell of it, their time wasted in the cold. But did this move A to send commander M urgently to the spot? No. As far as she is concerned their fate, their faces don’t exist. – but the fact that the soldiers had concealed their name tags? Lord Almighty! For that and only for that is the officer secretly summoned and she expects us to cooperate so he’ll catch the evildoers – not because concealing their names somehow harms the Palestinians. Palestinians’ lives are trampled just as easily whether soldiers’ names are known or withheld. Only because this is really – according to A – a violation of the law.Unlike everything else there- like shooting at children, grabbing IDs and not giving them back, detaining people for unlimited periods of time…But concealing the name tag…. this is really a breach of the law!Dreadful.40 minutes after our arrival, about two hours and a quarter after they had been placed in the corner, soldiers began the form-filling procedure. Why only now, Tami asks the fellow who by now we have identified as the commander. No answer. His mouth sealed, his face hard and grave, but admits that yes, the procedure started just now. So what?Another 20 minutes go by, the soldier comes down from his tower where he filled out the forms (ID numbers, names, time of “catch” and miscellaneous), and a special report for the elderly lady who had come back from the hospital. She is asked to read and sign. Somehow this, of all things, magnifies the crime, the sin that every single one of us, first and foremost those who serve in the army and set policies, and all of us parents, who silently or not silently agree… Every last one of us is a part of, to some extent. So we bent our heads. Or I did, anyway.At 4 p.m the CP is suddenly shut for traffic from the Westbank bound for Jerusalem. (note that neither is Ar-Ram CP a border between Israel and Palestine. South of Ar-Ram there are significant areas indeed annexed in 1967 but some of us see that whole area as one big settlement). Soldiers with their rifles pointing at nothing in particular float around, point their arms at the waiting Palestinians. Others are dragging the plastic (New Jersey) barriers to block the vehicle and pedestrian lanes.Eli asks, why is the CP closing?I owe you no account whatsoever, says the soldier.Eli calls officer M whose phone does not answer. Then she tries B (that very B who, incidentally, was seen a while ago in a Yediot Aharonot news photo – beating, kicking to be exact, the newspaper photographer who is rolling on the ground, in the midst of a demonstration. The photographer, who was seriously wounded, was Palestinian of course, and B was not aware of the fact that he worked for the Israeli paper. I too participated in that demonstration, and could witness from a very close distance how he beat his victim, crashed him to the ground, threw teargas at a busting crowd inside a market, people who were not participants in the demonstration, literally women and children, and then lie to the police. And he is the “big” brass there.) He answers. Asks if it’s urgent. She goes into details. “We’re in the midst of a shooting incident, lady, and I have no idea who you are.”“Don’t lean on the cars”, the righteous soldier yells. “How many times do I have to tell you? Guys, these are people’s cars!” Again, as expected, we Jews (for the sake of research…) lean on the same cars, and of course no one notices or says a word.On the walkie-talkie we hear about a white Subaru moving from Bir Naballah… That two explosions were heard… no wounded… That the soldiers are 150 meters away, that the “locals” mentioned detonators.Twenty mintues after the soldier brought the forms of one of the detainees, arrives the second form. “One by one!” yells a soldier, thus announcing the re-opening of the CP.People crowd by the plastic barrier (which the soldiers have not bothered to remove with the same enthusiasm they moved to close it. Preventing, blocking, damaging – all these seem to stimulate the young Occupiers into merry bustling activity, whereas allowing, opening, permitting, somehow tires and depresses their young muscles.)But after a while, children slowly, gently, bit by bit have moved the plastic and after some moments a space has been opened wide enough for an average-sized person to pass.We leave at 4:10 p.m. Exchange phone numbers with the detainees, two of whom have actually been released but are waiting for the remaining two.We shall see them later at Qalandiya CP on their way to Ramallah, and they will thank us, and our belly will tighten, for we are not sure we really helped, and even if we did, what if we hadn’t been there? All those long hours during which no older (and a bit younger) Jewish ladies are not around so that the soldiers won’t feel they’re functioning in a total void, and for all the wrong reasons (racial discrimination) do yield to us sometimes… To us, not to the Palestinians from whom they rob their lives, but to us, who look on. Jewish women.At the real Ar-Ram junction, many jeeps block the road left in the direction of Bir Naballah. Perhaps it has to do with what we had overheard on the walkie-talkie. We don’t know. Proceeded to Qalandiya.4:20 p.m. – QalandiyaUnlike Tuesday, there are a few vendors around. Some bit of color – fruit and vegetables – in the gray and malignant sea around here. Very cold.The construction work at Qalandiya CP continues. What used to be called the “humanitarian” lane is cancelled. There is a new low gate, not yet clear what for. Two turnstiles (from north to south) have been added next to the car lane but do not yet operate.Electric cables above each turnstile for the eventual caging by remote control, not yet connected. Northbound, again two turnstiles. The point apparently is to control (more than in the past) passage towards Ramallah as a part of the new draconian law by which blue ID carrying Palestinians, or citizens that are residents of East Jerusalem will be prevented by law from entering the Westbank. Which does not make any sense at all. Some of them work there. To say nothing of family ties. The real purpose is to push for transfer without announcing it as such. To make those people’s lives impossible and make them leave Jerusalem.As someone said in Wallaje: to clean Jerusalem up from any Arabs.In general, control is tangibly tightened in the direction of Ramallah. At both Ar-Ram and Qalandiya CPs. Probably to catch “violators” who will probably continue to cross CPs.At the quarry construction continues. Not clear what it will be: a parking lot? A road? A gas station?Is it for Jews or for Arabs, a child asks us (one of those moribund children four of whom have already been murdered in the past two years, in the “death games” played by the refugee camp children who throw stones at the empty field known as the airfield, far from the CP (and if it were not far, would it then be permissible to hunt them down and murder them?), and the Occupation soldiers who chase them and shoot them as they run away.)We did not answer. We smiled. The answer was obvious.Want to throw some stones? he asked us, intimately.Thanks, we said, and we meant it, and our hearts were warm. And tears were very close. Don’t remember when we left. It was dark.