Qalandiya, Qalandiya Camp

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תמר פליישמן
Jul-24-2024
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Afternoon

Over there, deep inside the alleys of Qalandiya refugee camp, far behind Adham who appears in the photo - Adham who comes with his father and brother from as Samu'  to find their livelihood here, close to the refugee camp and the checkpoint - over there, alongside one of the winding alleys and until just a few hours ago stood the family home of Mohammad Manasrah, who on February 29th murdered two Jews at the Eli settlement gas station.

The soldiers came a bit past midnight in numerous armed forces, surrounded the house, blocked all the roads, stopped traffic to Ramallah, woke up the family members and told them over loudspeakers to desert their home. The work was completed in the morning.

Empty cartridges scattered on the road leading to the checkpoint attested to the protest that had broken out, and the army’s reply. Revenge - not justice - motivated the decision makers and the performers, taking revenge on the family of he who is no longer alive. Revenge - the greenhouse for more hatred and more terrorist attacks.

The intention behind the demolition of perpetrators is not revenge, declared judges. It is deterrence and the prevention of similar cases, and since Jews do not tend to perpetrate terrorist attacks - as the court pointed out - the demand made by Husein Abu Khdeir, the father of the child burnt alive a decade ago, to demolish the home of the initiator and performer of his child’s murder was rejected.

Last Saturday the municipality representatives raided vendors at the checkpoint entrance again. Once again those who go to great lengths to bring bread and milk to their children were fined 425 shekels. “I don’t make such a huge sum of money in a whole day’s work,” said a man whose home is faraway from here, at Bani Naim in the Hebron district.

On her way back, at the checkpoint entrance, a woman carrying a small child in a pram tried to wake the sleeping toddler in order to get him out of the pram. When she stood him on his legs, the child who was still sleepy collapsed, and a stranger who happened to be there picked the child up. Thus, the head of the child dropped on his shoulder, he carried him through the turnstile. The mother carried the folded-up pram in one hand, and her heavy bag in the other.

At the last inspection post, the mother showed her ID and valid transit-permit to the girl-soldier behind the armored glass window. After checking her computer, the soldier instructed the mother to turn back.

What happened? I asked the woman. Blacklisted, she said, and turned back with her son and folded-up pram.

When she was a bit distant, I noticed her bag still placed opposite the soldier’s post. I hurried after the woman and united the two…

At this point, my own delay, the careful and suspecting inspection of my own ID, and the soldier’s stupid question of the “Are you Jewish?”-type sounded hollow and meaningless.