Habla: There is no work in the West Bank, no entry permits into Israel

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Observers: 
Shoshi I. (driving), Pitzi S. (reporting), Tal H. (translating)
Oct-22-2024
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Morning

There is a huge line of cars waiting to drive into the West Bank at the Eliyahu Checkpoint, all of them bearing Israeli license plates. Reason unclear.

U. from the nursery told us the gate at Habla opens at 1 p.m., but the soldiers decided that today opening time will be 1:30 p.m.

- Have you let the Palestinians know?

- No, they already know.

 

-Where from?
- From those who already passed this morning.

- And if they have not met them?

- Let them wait. They’ll survive.

This is the answer we received from a young soldier who came to check on what those two women (us) were doing.

In the meantime, the waiting line for the opening grew, but as we know, the Palestinians survive…

At the entrance to Habla are 2 vehicles with saplings and the Ras A Tira guys. Except pedestrians. 4 vehicles exited Habla, as well as 2 tractors, 2 pickup trucks, 3 trucks. Lively traffic…

 

One of them recognized us from the last times we were there. Shoshi remembers he had a horse and cart. Now, he says, he is forbidden to pass with the horse. Why? Because. He had an electric bicycle. That’s also forbidden. So, he cycles a regular bicycle. And says he has no more strength left. He is old.

Among those waiting stand several young men from Ras A-Tira village. They bear beautiful oranges for sale in Habla or Qalqiliya, and say they have 200 dunams of olive trees and Israel does not allow them to go and harvest them. The checkpoint is closed. They look longingly at the fruit-laden trees and know that this year, too, it will all rot away.

Finally, the gate opens. Young male and female soldiers check IDs. Irritatingly slow. First those coming from Habla, and then they signal those waiting to enter. They do not detain anyone. A young soldier approaches to find out what we’re doing there. Says they will close at 2 or 2:30 p.m. Everything is subject to change.

We left at 2 p.m.

There are two women from Hod HaSharon sitting in U.’s nursery. He has arranged a lovely coffee corner and it’s nice to sit in the shade there and sip sweet tea and bitter coffee. As usual, U. has many stories to tell, but we are in a hurry to meet our friend Z. from Azzun. Naturally we bought some winter blossoms in his nursery, everything is so cheap. The boy now working with U. is wonderful at serving us while U. does his host part.

The exit from the old road from Nabi Elias to Azzun is closed. Why? Because. This isolates Nabi Elias – the settlers cannot reach it as easily as before, and they were shopping there so cheaply as we reported in the past. They even brought a kosher supervisor to the butcher shop. He is no longer there. Entrance to Izbat Tabib and Azzun is apparently closed as well. There are bypass dirt tracks through the fields from which they reach Nabi Elias.

Because of the closureinfo-icon we meet Z. and his wife at the entry to the old road. They are very thin and he is trembling all over. Says he cannot reach a doctor in Jerusalem for he has no entry permit into Israel.  Gives us a small bottle of olive oil as a token of gratitude. Touching.

There is no work in the West Bank, no entry permits into Israel as we know. He has four big sons who need to eat, they too have no work. So, they are about to starve. Tzviya’s husband could arrange his employment but there are no permits…

We collected donations to support Z. and his family, thank you all the donors who have been so generous. We need more. We brought plenty of clothes, beddings, blankets and utensils for Z.’s recently opened second-hand shop. Apparently Azzun villagers, also very low on funds, are not really buying. Everything is down.

 

The falafel eatery in Nabi Elias is empty. Once in a while someone comes, but in general the place looks deserted. We order chicken and mince-meat, as well as cold beverages and salads, and pay 45 shekels for everything. The owner remembers us arriving with a busload of visitors. He asks us longingly – where is the bus?
He remembers we would call him from the road to order fresh falafel and mince-meat according to the number of clients, and they would devour the fresh food and varied salads and pay 5 shekels for everything. They learned what arais meant (mince-meat stuffed pita) before the Israeli falafel stands began to sell it.

Those were the days. Perhaps they will be back…