Friday, December 26th
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| The Sheer Absurdity of It These are my impressions after my first stint on Machsom Watch to Reihan, (Barta’a), A’anin, Shaked (Tura). The sheer absurdity of it is overwhelming: moving people through a series of gates, fences, wire, and revolving doors on a daily basis, bright plastic playground equipment and flowers at the entrance to Reihan checkpoint near Barta’a, a person not being allowed to bring some shingles home or not being able to make a phone call in an emergency because of a soldier’s whims. The only reason that I did not emerge from my first shift on Machsom Watch totally in shock is because it is simply too much to comprehend at once. Neither the people who have to pass through the checkpoints, nor the soldiers who have to operate them enjoy being outside on a cold rainy day like this. The dreary day fit my mood as we drove through Barta'a, a village located on the samline just south of Wadi Ara and wound our way through the narrow winding streets. There was no traffic going through the checkpoint when we arrived, but the parking lot on the Palestinian side was filled with cars. A group of about ten seamstresses returning from work arrived, and we waited to see how long it would take them to make their way through the checkpoint and come out the other side. They came out five minutes later. S, my shift partner, dealt with distributing the bags oif donated used clothing we had brought, telephoning people from a printed list and asking them to come to the checkpoint and pick them up. I pinned a Machsom Watch tag on my jacket and wandered over to the road and the gate with my camera. “Can I help you?” a soldier shouted across the road to me from the inspection booth. “I’m from Machsom Watch.” “Ah, the "Machsom Women." You’re new, right?” “Yes.” “You can’t stand there. Get back. You can only go as far as the chain link fence, OK?” Very polite, but firm. “OK, no problem.” I obeyed and meandered back to watch as people came out of the checkpoint and got into their cars. A man spreads a prayer rug under the covered area on the concrete floor and kneels to pray. So many fences, tunnels, and gates, so much wire, I think, peering through as people come out. A man whom we questioned through the revolving door told us that only one of the six inspection windows was open, but that people were moving through without any delay. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed already, and this was when things were quiet and calm. We drove on to the agricultural checkpoint at A’anin, which is only open two days a week twice a day for an hour. When we reached the gate it was already closed, and we were told that the checkpoint had been closed at 15:30 instead of the usual 16:00. About 30 people had passed through the A’anin checkpoint that day. We noticed a large pile of plastic bags filled with hay and a pile of shingles on the seamline zone side that people had intended to take across to the Palestinian side, but for some reason that is beyond me, they had not been permitted to and had to leave them there. We drove on through the rain to Shaked, our past checkpoint of the day. When we arrived there were two cars waiting to pass through the checkpoint, and an army jeep standing on the other side attesting to the fact that there was a visiting army officer present. A woman and her small children got out of their car and walked through the rain to be checked before the father could pass through with their car and collect them on the other side. S asked him if everyone got checked. “Kamaan el wulaad?” (The children, too? I asked. Yes, he answered to my question, the children have to be checked, too, and no, he was not permitted to drive them across even in the rain, they had to walk. He also told us that some time ago his mother had arrived at the checkpoint but mistakenly brought an expired permit instead of her new one. (Possibly she did not notice because she was in a hurry, or could not read the permits and could not differentiate which was current and which was outdated.) When she reached the checkpoint the soldiers would not let her pass and would also not allow her to call her son and ask him to bring the correct permit. “No”, he explained, “I’m not permitted to use a cellular phone at the checkpoint.” We asked the driver of the waiting van what the situation had been like lately, and he said that there had been no particular problems or delays. We chatted on a bit, and agreed that yes, the extremists were ruining things for both of us. “The people who run the checkpoints should be good people - those who represent the country.” We agreed, and added that it would be preferable that there be no checkpoints at all. No, I thought, dismally looking out the window on the way back. It’s not enough to have good people at the checkpoints, and it’s not enough that we stand there with our badges and show we object. It seems to me that nothing will ever be enough. The checkpoints are referred to on signs as “crossings”, but they are not crossings from Israel into the territories at all: merely points where people need to be checked before they continue on their way in what should be their own country. The term is a misnomer and a misleading one: an attempt to convince ourselves that this is necessary. I think of the small children being led across the Shaked checkpoint in the rain by their mother past soldiers with guns and wonder what it will take to undo the wound that is being gradually inflicted upon their young minds. Putting plastic playground equipment at the entrance to a checkpoint to offer children a few minutes of play is not going to heal those wounds. |
Left: Palestinians
hurrying through the
rain to the
inspection tunnel at
Reihan checkpoint.
Below: the entrance
to the tunnel.
hurrying through the
rain to the
inspection tunnel at
Reihan checkpoint.
Below: the entrance
to the tunnel.
Bags of straw abandoned together with
shingles on the seamline side of the
A'anin checkpoint. Why people were
not permitted to take these things
across is beyond me.
shingles on the seamline side of the
A'anin checkpoint. Why people were
not permitted to take these things
across is beyond me.
The Shaked (Tura) Checkpoint.
Mistakenly referred to on the sign as a
"gate" or a "crossing."
Mistakenly referred to on the sign as a
"gate" or a "crossing."
