Friday, July 24th
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Surrealistic
playground
equipment at the
entrance to Reihan
Checkpoint. (No
photographing here!
playground
equipment at the
entrance to Reihan
Checkpoint. (No
photographing here!
...and waiting...
On the Art of Waiting...and of Making
People Wait
We drove Suheil and her daughter Aya from Rambam
Hospital to Jalameh. Expecting to see Aya again on watch
this Thursday, I stopped in a toy store in Nahariya this week
and picked up an inexpensive baby doll that makes a hilarious
snoring noise and lights up when her tummy is pressed. Aya
was enthralled with the doll and cuddled it until she fell asleep
about halfway to Jalameh.
There were many Israeli Arabs going through the border
crossing in both direction, and many were families with small
children. It is close to 40 degrees outside and a strong wind
blows clouds of dust from the construction work nearby. Aya
and her mother had already gone through when we arrived at
the entrance, but about a dozen people were waiting inside
the terminal. Despite the fact that the terminal has two sides
to accommodate people coming in and out of the West Bank
in both directions, only one side is being used and the one
clerk who is working must process people going in both
directions. One man complained angrily that his 55-year-old
mother had been detained inside, and he had been waiting
for her for an hour. She finally emerged, clutching one plastic
bag – the reason she had been delayed in the terminal. Neta
called and complained about the waiting line, and this
resulted in them opening up the other side of the terminal
making lanes in two directions. Since she also told them
where we were standing, it also brought an armed guard, who
came up and looked over my shoulder.
“I want to know what you are writing in your notebook!”
Ah, I think, soon they will put a sign up with a picture of a
notebook and pen and a red diagonal line across it that says:
NO REPORTING AT THE CHECKPOINT ALLOWED! But,
well, when confronted with an M16, I tend to get a bit more
docile than my usual self.
“Certainly," I say, "No problem. Long line at the entrance to
the terminal, only one window open, people with small children
waiting to go in both directions and being delayed…” We left
at 14:15.
A’anin 14:55
The gate opened promptly at 3:00 and about 15 people and
half a dozen tractors passed through by 15:25. Several
teenage boys were with their fathers, probably helping them
in the fields.
Shaked-Tura 15:35
For the first time we see that there are two women from the
military police checking cars and pedestrians. Several cars
and taxis passed through the checkpoint in both directions,
but one driver drove into the seamline zone, stopped, and
complained that things were not going smoothly, he had been
waiting for a half hour. The ladies evidently need to be more
efficient at their new job.
Reihan-Barta’a 15:50
As we drive in we see seamstresses arriving and walking
down to the sleeve. At the entrance there are already twenty
people in line, and at 16:30 two windows were open and the
line was moving. Unfortunately one window stopped
operating, and the line soon began to grow longer. The
loudspeaker announces again and again: “Enter the
checkpoint only if you have a permit.” "I want to photograph
the line. I'm going to sneak one."
Soon another announcement is made: “Hey, are you trying to
play games with me?” It is reminiscent of a fourth-grade
teacher talking to an arrogant child: the language of an
occupier to the occupied.
It takes the man at the end of the line 12 minutes to reach the
turnstile and get inside.
Furious, I was siezed by an urge to disobey the signs posted
for the benefit of people such as myself who want to record
what goes on here. Holding my camera close to me waist
high to avoid the overhead cameras, I blindly snapped a
picture and lo and behold, I caught the men waiting in line.
Neta took a picture with her phone as well.
Neta calls S., who sharply offers her an explanation for the
holdup in the terminal: He is rude and cross, and refuses to
take any blame, adamant in his attitude that they are doing
the Palestinians a favor.
“You refuse to understand. It’s because we let people who
don’t have permits come through here.”
Sigh. We left at 16:45.
This goes with the comment of “Its lovely over at the vehicle
checkpoint: aid conditioning, coffee…” Sure, they could sit
there all day. Who needs to work, earn a living...we have
nothing better to do but WAIT all day...
?
People Wait
We drove Suheil and her daughter Aya from Rambam
Hospital to Jalameh. Expecting to see Aya again on watch
this Thursday, I stopped in a toy store in Nahariya this week
and picked up an inexpensive baby doll that makes a hilarious
snoring noise and lights up when her tummy is pressed. Aya
was enthralled with the doll and cuddled it until she fell asleep
about halfway to Jalameh.
There were many Israeli Arabs going through the border
crossing in both direction, and many were families with small
children. It is close to 40 degrees outside and a strong wind
blows clouds of dust from the construction work nearby. Aya
and her mother had already gone through when we arrived at
the entrance, but about a dozen people were waiting inside
the terminal. Despite the fact that the terminal has two sides
to accommodate people coming in and out of the West Bank
in both directions, only one side is being used and the one
clerk who is working must process people going in both
directions. One man complained angrily that his 55-year-old
mother had been detained inside, and he had been waiting
for her for an hour. She finally emerged, clutching one plastic
bag – the reason she had been delayed in the terminal. Neta
called and complained about the waiting line, and this
resulted in them opening up the other side of the terminal
making lanes in two directions. Since she also told them
where we were standing, it also brought an armed guard, who
came up and looked over my shoulder.
“I want to know what you are writing in your notebook!”
Ah, I think, soon they will put a sign up with a picture of a
notebook and pen and a red diagonal line across it that says:
NO REPORTING AT THE CHECKPOINT ALLOWED! But,
well, when confronted with an M16, I tend to get a bit more
docile than my usual self.
“Certainly," I say, "No problem. Long line at the entrance to
the terminal, only one window open, people with small children
waiting to go in both directions and being delayed…” We left
at 14:15.
A’anin 14:55
The gate opened promptly at 3:00 and about 15 people and
half a dozen tractors passed through by 15:25. Several
teenage boys were with their fathers, probably helping them
in the fields.
Shaked-Tura 15:35
For the first time we see that there are two women from the
military police checking cars and pedestrians. Several cars
and taxis passed through the checkpoint in both directions,
but one driver drove into the seamline zone, stopped, and
complained that things were not going smoothly, he had been
waiting for a half hour. The ladies evidently need to be more
efficient at their new job.
Reihan-Barta’a 15:50
As we drive in we see seamstresses arriving and walking
down to the sleeve. At the entrance there are already twenty
people in line, and at 16:30 two windows were open and the
line was moving. Unfortunately one window stopped
operating, and the line soon began to grow longer. The
loudspeaker announces again and again: “Enter the
checkpoint only if you have a permit.” "I want to photograph
the line. I'm going to sneak one."
Soon another announcement is made: “Hey, are you trying to
play games with me?” It is reminiscent of a fourth-grade
teacher talking to an arrogant child: the language of an
occupier to the occupied.
It takes the man at the end of the line 12 minutes to reach the
turnstile and get inside.
Furious, I was siezed by an urge to disobey the signs posted
for the benefit of people such as myself who want to record
what goes on here. Holding my camera close to me waist
high to avoid the overhead cameras, I blindly snapped a
picture and lo and behold, I caught the men waiting in line.
Neta took a picture with her phone as well.
Neta calls S., who sharply offers her an explanation for the
holdup in the terminal: He is rude and cross, and refuses to
take any blame, adamant in his attitude that they are doing
the Palestinians a favor.
“You refuse to understand. It’s because we let people who
don’t have permits come through here.”
Sigh. We left at 16:45.
This goes with the comment of “Its lovely over at the vehicle
checkpoint: aid conditioning, coffee…” Sure, they could sit
there all day. Who needs to work, earn a living...we have
nothing better to do but WAIT all day...
?
Looking very picturesque...and waiting...
...and waiting...
Since Geocities will be closing down soon, I have
begun posting at my new home, "Ruach Tzfonit"
(The Northern Wind) at
http://tsafon.blogspot.com/.
begun posting at my new home, "Ruach Tzfonit"
(The Northern Wind) at
http://tsafon.blogspot.com/.