Settling In at Home

Left: Suki and Saoirse getting used to each other

Suki is lying at my feet happily transforming a leather bone into a masticated mess, and has acclimatized to moshav life with ease. Two days ago I was hesitant to take her out of the house, but soon after that we went to the grocery store for the first time, and have just returned from a walk around the block with Suki in harness and Saoirse and Nuala happily walking alongside. On the way I stopped to investigate the basketball court near the youth club and found it to be a perfect place for letting Suki run safely in an enclosed, fenced area. (The temptation to do this is overwhelming, but this will begin only after some time when I develop full trust that Suki will return to me upon command when set free).

Walking through Ben Ami Suki is cooperative and responds just like in the city in areas where there are curbs, crosswalks, and sidewalks, but walks along the road where there are none as we did in the rural walking exercise on the course. She must be terribly stimulated by everything around her – a rooster crowing, dogs barking, leaves blowing, the smell of goats, citrus fruit, and flowers - but she continues on, obeying commands, occasionally glancing behind her, perhaps to see where the other two dogs are.I imagine that her growing up in a foster family with two other dogs is invaluable in her good adjustment, and I must commend Salirse and Nuala for their good behavior as well.

Getting Back Home to A'anin

We arrived at Jalameh after driving Aya and her mother Suheil from Rambam Hospital. The sky was an oppressive dusty haze of an approaching hamsin, and little Aya was fussy and cried in the car. Perhaps she also felt the strange weather. We immediately saw a group of women from Jenin who complained that things are difficult at the checkpoint in the morning and that people are delayed.
The new facility for vehicle crossing has begun to operate since Tuesday of this week. The crossing is open from 08:00 until 17:00 and is now being tested. We spoke with Tzachi, the head of the checkpoint who answered our questions politely. Israelis who wish to cross must ask for a permit at the Central Command of the IDF. Israelis “…whose lives will not be endangered” are permitted to cross and visit Jenin. The opening of the vehicle crossing is a positive step, since it encourages business in Jenin and enabled families to visit each other. There was a line of 8 cars in front of the inspection hut and another 10 next to the inspection facility. There was no waiting line in the terminal.

On the way to A'anin we stopped to turn at the road leading to the checkpoint at the end. A policeman pulled up next to us and waved to get our attention. I rolled down the window.

"Don't turn here. There's nothing to the left of here."

He was trying to be helpful, no doubt it never occurred to him that we were heading towards the fence at the end of the road.

"Thanks, but there's the gate to A'anin at the end of the road."

Now that the olive harvest has begun, A’anin agricultural checkpoint is open every day. When we arrived there were about 60 people, tractors, and wagons standing in front of the closed gate. A man was gathering everyone’s I.D. cards and arranging the order by which people would pass through. The soldiers, who are now equipped with a laptop computer, check people’s documents, but this added technology does not seem to make the checkpoint more efficient: in fact, we have never seen such a delay here. At 15:40 the gate opened and the man holding everyone’s I.D.’s began calling names. People waited patiently and the checks were done slowly. A car from the Liaison and Coordination Administration left, apparently deciding that the passage was efficient enough. At 16:15 there were still 30 people waiting, and the first tractor and wagon with two women was still being detained in front of the second gate. At 16:20 all the tractors had gone through and there were still 15 people outside.


Above: Waiting at the gate to A'anin...to get back home.The last person passed through the gate at 16:25. It took an entire hour to let 60 people back to their homes in the village of A’anin from the seamline zone, where they had been working all day on their own land!A soldier with the rank of captain came to close the gate and we approached him to ask why the tractor and wagon with the women had been detained. Neta asked politely if we could ask him something.

“No,” the captain replied curtly.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Sigh. We left for Reihan.

4 cars are waiting to be checked at the vehicle checkpoint at Reihan. There is a line of about 30 people at the entrance to the terminal and only one window open. The usual situation – occasionally the turnstile opened, and 5-6 people went in. At 16:55 Neta tried to call Sharon to ask him to open another window. The didn’t answer, but after a short time another window opened and traffic flowed more quickly. Looking back, I thought perhaps we should plant a scarecrow of a Machsom watcher at the entrance to be caught by the cameras, complete with hat, purse and tag, to keep the inspectors aware that someone was watching...We hoped it would remain open and left.

Forgiveness or Intolerance - Yom Kippur Reflections

This year's Yom Kippur was marked, among other things, by Iran deliberately choosing the day to launch a new Shahab missile capable of reaching Israel: a deliberate act of intolerance, antagonism, and flaunting of military strength. Reactions here included the same spectrum of intolerance, belligerance, and antagonism. The choices are ours. It still seems to me that we are fighting fire with fire, rather than attempting to diffuse the situation, if indeed it can be diffused.

At the end of the day I dressed Rotem in her white dress, and we set off for the synagogue to hear the shofar at the end of the fast day. Surprisingly, there are now two synagogue services in Ben Ami which is ordinarily a secular community: new residents who live in the new neighborhood are evidently reluctant to join the Ashkenazi service and called for a Sepharadi one alongside. Entering the hall below the uncompleted synagogue (after 5 years I sort of doubt it will ever be finished) I soon realized that I had entered the Sepharaci service. The usual Ben Amo crowd from my block was not here, but the music was much more to my liking, so I stayed. I put Rotem on my lap and we were soon singing Avinu Malkenu and chanting "Adonai Hu HaElokim" to a thoroughly unfamiliar melody. No more minor slow Ashkenazi melodies. We were soon clapping hands. I was definitely born into the wrong sect. I'm switching.

Taking |Rotem on my lap, I whispered to her that Yom Kippur was about to end, and that this was the time to forgive any animosities.

"Rotem, this is the time to say "slicha". If I ever said anything or did anything during the last year that hurt your feelings or made you angry, I'm sorry." I took her hand and we stood up with the rest of the congregation. She stood open-mouthed as the shofar sounded again and again, and we went outside into the moonlit evening.

Rotem then asked me to come with her to ask our neighbor's child, Noam, to make up. I don't know what they had a disagreement about, but Rotem wanted to end it, but she did not have the courage to face Noam alone. We walked over and Rotem said she wanted to make up. Noam did not answer.

"It's OK, Rotem, you did the right thing. Maybe Noam will think about it." We walked home as the stars came out and I told her how difficult it is even for adults to forgive sometimes and end their anger at each other.

Perhaps small children are learning better than adults to be tolerant and forgive. Maybe they can show us.

The Road to Area A is Paved with Good Intentions...

A Palestinian boy passes through the turnstile at Jalameh.

Today is the third day of Eid El Fitir – the feast at the end of Ramadan. We observed that the “easing up of conditions” that was to take place during Ramadan and the holidays were either not implemented, or fell by the wayside.

We drove the little girl Aya and her mother Suheil to Jalameh after her dialysis treatment at Rambam. Aya played happily with a Dora balloon - a gift from Neta - and promptly fell asleep. When we arrived the parking lot was so crowded that we could barely find a place to park. The checkpoint is filled with holiday visitors going in both directions.

At the entrance to the terminal there is crowding and pushing. Families are standing with small children, people are constantly moving through the turnstile in both directions. At the far end of the terminal there is a window for people entering the West Bank, and it is very crowded there. People entering Israel come to the turnstile from another window to the left that is beyond our view/ People are fed up, complain about the long wait and the degradation at the checkpoint. One man complains that he came out quickly because he was let through due to a heart problem, but his son and daughter-in-law are still inside. Another declares that he has not seen his family in Jenin for a long time, but prefers not to go: he refuses to put up with the degrading experience of going through the crossing. It appears that instead of improved conditions for the holiday, the checkpoint is more crowded and less efficient than ever.


Holiday Visitors. "Easing Up on Conditions?"

On our way out we saw a bus waiting and asked the drivers who they were taking. They said they were waiting for workers who were harvesting olives near Tiberias.
Soon there will be a vehicle crossing point here and Israeli Arabs will be able to take their cars to Jenin to shop. We can see the new facility that is already standing, which is supposed to open October 1st.

Neta suggested we see if anyone was using the newly opened checkpoint at Salem, which I had never seen. We stopped at Salem, which was opened for people to cross during Ramadan and the holiday. Next to an opening that had been made in the fence a place had been prepared for people to cross, but the entire place was empty. (See photo). It is ironic that there is so much overcrowding at Jalameh, but no one is taking advantage of the opportunity to cross here. The army had set up a sunshade, tables, and even chemical toilets. All are waiting for people to use them – but because the opening of the crossing was not publicized properly, all these efforts were in vain.



A large red sign stands at the checkpoint that reads: “This road continues into Area A [which is] under the jurisdiction of the Palestinian Authority. Entrance to Area A by Israelis is forbidden, endangers your life, and is a criminal offense.” A fine backdrop for the present peace summit in Washington and New York! Note: this jurisdiction is true for Israeli Jews: Israeli Arabs are, of course, permitted to enter, as we have seen them coming back and forth at Jalameh.)



We met H., an Israeli Arab from Haifa, who was waiting for a bus that had taken people from Kfar Yasif in the Western Galilee to Jenin. He explained that he works for a company that provides the busses for tours to the West Bank in order to promote business. A Danish company subsidizes the cost of the busses and people pay a token fee to cover the rest of the expense. H. states that he is an Israeli Arab and is proud of it, and says he would rather live here than anywhere else.
Shaked-Tura – 15:55 – The checkpoint is quiet. Three pedestrians pass through. The muezzin calls from the mosques in Tura and Dir El Malak. A man stops to pray under the concrete shelter.

The lower parking lot is relatively empty. There are no workers, and most of the traffic coming through the checkpoint are families visiting relatives from the seamline zone. A polite voice sounds over the loudspeaker in Arabic: “Bring your packages through first and then enter.”

In the upper part of the checkpoint in the sleeve people were less polite. Families are going through in both directions. The problems seem to be with “mixed” families in which one member has a blue Israeli ID and the other has a green Palestinian one. It is not clear why, but every family encounters problems: people have to wait ten minutes or more with small, tired children, all dressed in holiday finery. Everyone gets through in the end – but not without a lot of shouting over the loudspeaker and many demands: Wait there, where's your permit? SHow me, the rest of you stand there...in a shrill, amplified voice.

Easing up on conditions? Good intentions perhaps, but not really put into practice.
But, then, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, too.

Shana Tova - 5770

The signs are in the air: the summer is coming to an end as the children's song says. Mornings are even a bit nippy and cool, and larger and larger clouds float across the sky - hopefully a promise of rains to come.

The year ended with the lovely wedding of Ofer and Nava, an evening that started off with a session throughout the reception and ended with us all frolicking on the dance floor with flashing lights and irridescent bracelets. It's been a year of celebrations, the loss of two former Adamit members,and many other events. The new year will be marked with many exciting changes for me, including the arrival of Itai and Hilla's baby girl in December.

Reflecting on the past year and what is to come, I feel personal optimism mixed with trepidation for what is in store for the country. Will we be any close this year to achieving what we have been hoping for? Touring the checkpoints last week with several representative from the delegation of the European Commonwealth, I was asked, "Do most Israelis feel that there should be no settlements?" I answered that many Israelis are against the settlements, but all too many are totally unaware of what is going on in the West Bank. The two women - Virginia and Suzanna - asked intelligent and relevant questions, while Jean Martin's main role seemed to be to urge us on from one checkpoint to the next with, "I think we've seen enough here, let's move on." Perhaps this was prompted by the fact that he must have frelt extremely uncomfortable in the 35+ degree heat in his jacket and amazing bright orange tie!

And so, I will wish us a year of better leaders, greater awareness, tolerance, and understanding, an less apathy and complacency - a year of turning around and returning to the values that this country was founded upon, and abandonment of fanaticism and ideology that does injustice to Jewish values and Zionist ideals, and a year of broader horizons for all of us.

Shana Tova!

The Words Nut Uttered

Several weeks ago Bibi delibered a speech at Bar Ilan in which he was very careful not to mention the words "two states for two peoples". He was extremely careful. That was because Bibi did not want to be caught retracting his words afterwards with actions that deep inside he is not willing to take. He is, after all, eager to prove himself as being honest. And in the present reality of politicians being indicted and gpoing to jail, honest politicians are what we need!

Now we hear Bibi again through what he is NOT saying. He will not utter the words "Moratorium" or "freeze." That is because Bibi has absolutely no intention of halting the building in the West Bank. Absolutely none. So we will have a "slowdown", a "quiet period", perhaps building will only be resumed "after the holidays" as is the comming remark to justify procrastination about anything at this time of year.

Bibi is doing one thing for certain: he is making sure that he makes no committments towards peace or towards a Palestinian State. After all, he did not say he would. And it's what Bibi does not say that makes things clear.

Make no mistake about it. Bibi is honest. He will not say what he will not do.

Shalom Kitah Aleph!

Here is Rotem, excited and happy on her first day of school with her school bag and school shirt.



Each new first grader was assigned to an eighth-grader who will act as a big brother or sister. The first graders were then led through a decorated welcome gate, while parents shed a tear of excitement.


Today is also a great day for Israeli justice: Hirschenson and Ben Izri were carted off to prison to serve five and six year sentences.

One more criminal still walks the streets: former Prime minister Ehud Olmert is finally being indicted for bribery, stealing, and using other people's money to pay his debts to Rishon TOurs.

These crimes are quite serious, but as far as I am concerned, Olmert is already guilty. He abandoned residents of the north and haplessly waged a war in which over 150 Israelis died (not to mention several thousand Lebanese) wihtout proper planning or strategy. For these crimes, which are far more serious he is already guilty.
As we say, go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200. As a matter of fact, you have thousands of dollars to return to a lot of people.

Now you're cooking with...Sunlight!

We have lots of things lacking in this country, but one thing we are not short of is sunshine! During these hot summer days when the last thing I want to do is turn on the oven, and the electric bill could also use some whittling down, Claudia and I built the perfect solution - a solar cooker! Here it is in its first test run. Here's a good website! with instructions on how to build your own. The sun and flames decorations were my whimsical addition. You'll need two cardboard boxes that fit inside the other, about a half a kilo of plastic glue, a bit of patience, and creativity.

I'm Proud to be a Virus!

"How does it feel to be a virus?" asks Neta cheerfully as I climb into her car to drive out to the northern checkpoints. Ya'alon, in his blunder of calling Peace Now and the other movements who object to the occupation, has shown his talent for shooting off his mouth first and thinking afterwards. He has now retracted the statement, claiming he now realizes the importance of democratic discourse. Unfortunately, there is no discourse. But yes, I agree with Neta, I am proud to be a virus.

There is a constant flow of workers returning from work and people coming back from shopping in Jenin. Everyone is preparing for Ramadan, and evidently people still like to go to shop in Jenin despite the delays and difficulty it takes to get through the checkpoint. One man complained that he had been waiting for a long time, but proudly showed us a bag of tiny eggplants that he planned to stuff with rice – they cost NIS 8 in Israel, but only 3 in Jenin! The security guard again demanded to see my notebook, and explained “We’re trying to make things easier during Ramadan.”

As we approached the gate at A'anin a soldier asks us, “May I ask what you are doing here?” He is evidently new, and we ask if he has heard of Machsom Watch. Several tractors, a boy with a donkey, and many other young boys were waiting at the gate when we arrived. Things seemed to go smoothly and the soldiers let people through and allowed wagons to pass through loaded with plastic chairs, bags of sawdust, ties, and many other things. At 15:15 one tractor and wagon was delayed as a father with a young boy about 12 showed his documents.

“This only shows that the kid was born,” declares the soldier. (How else did the child come into the world?) After delaying the boy and his father another 15 minutes the soldier, unable to leave them there but unwilling to back down, finally capitulated, but tells the father that his son needs a “special permit”. As the soldiers came to close the gate at 15:30 we asked what the problem was with the father and son. He explained that the boy is over 12 - too old to be included in his father’s permit, and too young to have his own ID at age 16 and receive a separate permit. Thus, he “falls between two stools.”

"But," I asked, "How did the boy get into the seamline zone in the morning??"

He, of course, had not been there to let him across in the morning, but must follow orders now. In the occupation, the law of gravity of what goes up must come down does not hold: Whoever goes out of the West Bank does not necessarily go back in again..

A telephone call to the Liaison and Coordination Administration confirmed that there is no such thing as a “special permit” and that all children under 16 are to be included in their parents’ permit. It appears that there is a lack of coordination between the soldiers in the field and the Liaison and Coordination Administration and the policy is not consistent. At 15:30 everyone had gone through, and we left.

The lower parking lot at Reihan is so crowded with cars and taxis that we have difficulty maneuvering our own car through and could find no place to park. A small number of workers are coming out of the terminal. Everyone is getting ready for Ramadan: As we drove up and began to walk down the sleeve we met several men carrying heavy packages of water, fish, and other groceries, and gave them a hand lugging it all down to the turnstile. They thanked us profusely. All the Moslems that I have met are talking about how difficult the month-long fasting period will be in August-September when the days are hot and long. Since the Moslem calander does not have a leap year system as the Gregorian and Hebrew ones do, the month of Ramadan cycles backwards through the year, moving back one month or so every three years. This means that another nine years of hot, long days until the month of Ramadan is shoved back to the cooler spring months. It will be rough for people who work outdoors and cannot drink water all day.

There are two windows open in the terminal and people are moving through quickly. We listen to the usual complaints about people not being able to go to work in Israel through Reihan Checkpoint in the morning. One man also tells us that the number 27 Egged busses from Hadera to Reihan will not take them back, and we promise to write to the Ministry of Transportation and investigate the matter.

This week, after a year and a half of invitations, my friend from Jordan finally made it up to the Galilee on one of her visits. Determined to show her a part of the country where Arabs and Jews live side by side, I began the tour by showing her the Yehiam battle site and its proximity to the villages of Sheikh Danoun and Abu Snan. I hoped to convey to her just how precarious the situation of the settlements in the Western Galilee was at the time, and that there are villages still standing as opposed to the ones that she was continually referring to that were destroyed. I refrained from much comment, but she silently took pictures of the rusty vehicles scattered throughout the gorge and the old Moslem cemetary above. We then continued to the Arch Cave, where I called upon Dan to serve as tour guide, and we walked around the edge of the cliff and approached the cave by the "surprise" route over the arch. We then continued on to Rosh Hanikra and marveled at the colors and light as the sea crashed into the grottos.

"היום הכל בסדר" "Today everything is OK.

But actually, it's far from OK.

I am suddenly startled out of my reverie while translating Machsom Watch reports. "Today," reports a Palestinian, "Everything is OK." THe soldiers are OK, no one is being held up, there is no humiliation, people are moving through the checkpoint smoothly.

Have people now reached the point that they take for granted that the checkpoints are there, that this is normalcy, and that if they are not stopped, humiliated, harrassed, or anything else exceptional does not go on, than this is to be considered "OK?" "B'seder?"

Does it enter anyone's mind that the checkpoints within the Palestinian territory should not be there at all? Has this absurdity now become a state of normalcy?

Why, asks a watcher, are there so few Palestinians at the checkpoints in the middle of the day? From ten to noon people who are not already at work would take a walk, visit family, grandchildren, new mothers, a sick relative, look for a potential bride, shop, go to the clinic, take the washing machine in for repair in the neighboring village, bring some concrete cinder blocks for the new house. Children on summer vacation are looking for work, and other mundane errands. Such wanderings would be termed by the occupying force as wandering around the seamline zone with no purpose.
The army and the country have obligated themselves to ensure that Shaked Checkpoint enable people for whom the separation fence has infringed upon their lives to continue to live their lives as before.

However, in practice this is not what is being done, and the “all is OK” is far from OK. Any movement from one place to another within the seamline zone or from the seamline zone to the West Bank requires a permit. There has to be a reason – a good reason – to present to the soldier at the checkpoint for why you want to go anywhere. So people don’t bother…Yalla, so let’s not bother fixing the washing machine. We’ll wash clothes by hand, because in order to get the washing machine fixed we will have to tote it through Reihan checkpoint, and that will cost more than a new machine!

Let’s imagine that the Shaked Checkpoint were transferred to the Ra’anana junction. Soldiers stand and flag people down, require each person to be checked according to their capriza...ID. Check the car. Check the trunk. Maybe even let a bonb search dog with muddy paws into you car to give it a good going over. You will only get to work on time if the guy with the boots and the M-16 wants you to. I wonder how long the average Israeli would have patience for these daily holdups?

Keep in mind that we are not talking about border crossings into Israel, but about checkpoints within Palestinian territory. The excuse of "If we don't check then they will bomb Tel Aviv" therefore does not hold water.

Perhaps we should organize a demonstration: place a simulated machsom at the Kfar Sharyahu Junction and start checking cars, ID’s, where are you going? You’re late for work? Too bad. Perhaps then we would realize that everything is not OK.

Almost Halfway There!

I'm almost halfway there. At least if I live to be 120. This year's 59th birthday was heralded with phone calls, e-cards, and a delightful dinner of seasoned rice and stuffed zuccini at Jane and Bill's, accompanied by a bottle of white wine that Jane and I finished off in our customary fashion. I also received a lovely pair of turquoise colored earrings. The next day I left for Tel Aviv, where my friend Karin and I celebrated our 43rd birthday since we met in the summer of 1966 when we celebrated our 16th birthdays together at camp. We ate at the same restaurant in Bat Yam that we chanced upon last year and chatted as the sun went down. ON the way to Yael's house afterwards Rotem called me with strict instructions to call back five minutes before I arrived. When I climbed the stairs Rotem, who had been sitting on the stairs waiting for me, raced excitedly back into the house and birthday music came on. Rotem gave me a string of bright red plastic beads she had strung wrapped in a hand decorated box, and Yael gave me a lovely pair of Celtic style earrings and a pink photo album - designated for next grauddaughter to come. The next day I was greeted at my parents' house with a cake and candles (do I have any breath left?) Next year I promise a less modest celebration. As a matter of fact, I think we will have a large Irish session on the patio and the Hezballah will know I have turned 60.

Hot humid summer days pass slowly by. Ravens and doves fly to the fishpond for water and tiny Palestinian sunbirds flit by, pausing to sip nectar from the hibiscus flowers at the edge of the patio. One dove has boldly begun to sit on the strand of colored lights on the patio, and jays call from the avocado trees, but our one jay is somewhere off with his friends, having forsaken his human companions for ones of his own kind.



In the avocado orchard the trees are heavy with an unusually abumdant crop. Fruit hangs in clusters reminiscent of Christmas tree ornaments. The rows are dotted with long wooeden beams that were propped up to support the branches, but every day more and more branches sag as the fruit continues to grow.

At the checkpoint on the Way to the Wedding

Wishing to avoid the usual catcalls and chaos in the lower parking lot at Reihan, we went directly to the upper entrance to the terminal where we can see if there are any problems of people being delayed. Two windows remained open for the entire time we were there. For a change we didn't have to initiate a phone call to demand that they open another inspection booth. One of the women inspectors noted what was going on at the entrance and said to her colleague over the loudspeaker: “They’re talking to the women from “Watch.” Good. They knowthat we are here. Throughout the hour we observed the usual routine: the turnstile opening every five minutes and 9-12 people entering each time. Occasionally someone got caught inside the turnstile and had to remain standing in this “cage” until it turned again, occasionally someone got hit by the turnstile. The line outside occasionally grew to a dozen people but people continued to enter quickly. We wonder why people are not simply admitted to the air-conditioned terminal to wait there, rather than stand out in the sun.

A woman with an infant and two other small children attempted to pass through to the seamline zone and was refused. We could not find out why. A man from Jerusalem attempted to get back into the West Bank without a permit. He wanders about at the entrance and people shout at us. “He’s been here for six hours already. What’s he going to do? Sleep here?”

Evidently there is a wedding today and families dressed up in holiday clothes are coming from the Israeli side of Barta’a. As we left the entrance and walked back to the upper parking lot we saw a lineup of half a dozen cars - evidently the wedding party - waiting to get through to the West Bank. A taxi on its way to the seamline zone is being held up and everyone is waiting. People are standing next tot the cars in holiday clothes – including a woman who appears to be the bride - waiting to have their documents checked. People driving through are now allowed to be checked at the vehicle checkpoint and drive through without passengers having to go through the terminal. From inside one of the cars we can hear someone playing a darbuka and people clapping hands. We clap with then and shout "Mabruk! Mabruk!" As we leave the taxi going through towards the seamline zone that was holding up traffic is released and the wedding procession drives through.

A man accosts us. “The humiliation we have to go through at the checkpoints – there’s nothing like it anywhere else. Maybe in South Africa.”

“Actually,” I answer, “There is, but that doesn’t make it right.” He is definitely preaching to the converted. It is unfair that we have to get shouted at, but I am used to this: we are there and available for people to let our ther anger.

Another man demands, “When will it end? When?” And I wonder myself.

On the Art of Waiting

“Hey, are you trying to play games with me?” The tone is reminiscent of a fourth-grade teacher talking to an arrogant child: the language of an occupier
to the occupied.

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…”

The gate at A’anin 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.For the first time we see that there are two women from the military police checking cars and pedestrians at Tura. 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.

As we drive into Reihan Checkpoint 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 seized 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.

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...?

Machsomim in the July Heat

We arrived at A’anin at opening time, but the gate was locked and there were no soldiers present. Several pedestrians and one man with a tractor were waiting in the makeshift shelter that has been placed next to the gate – a large section of concrete pipe with used electrical equipment attached. At 3:10 the soldiers had still not arrived to open the gate and Neta called to see what was going on. She was told to call back if they did not come soon, and at 3:12 a hummer pulled up and a soldier got out and unlocked the gate. The soldiers unlocked the other two gates and began checking people through at 3:16. We were reminded of the Palestinian whose work permit had been revoked as “punishment” for failing to arrive at A’anin on time to return to the West Bank and had come back through Reihan, and the soldier who had smugly justified the punishment by saying: “What would you do if I showed up here at 3:05 instead of 3:00?”
While we were waiting one of the young men approached us and asked how he could get a permit to enter Israel and look for work. He explained that such permits were granted for three days every six months. We were surprised since we have never heard of such a permit. He also asked why people were not given permits to harvest almonds in their orchards in the seamline zone.
By 3:25 all the pedestrians and several tractors with bags of sawdust, as well as some bags of used clothing we had brought had passed through the gate. We left at 3:30.
Shaked-Tura 3:45 – The checkpoint is very quiet. One or two vehicles passed through in both directions, and three women came through in the direction of the seamline zone and waited to be picked up.
Reihan Barta’a – 16:05 – The lower parking lot is full of cars and there are a lot of yellow taxis, which are the only ones permitted to travel any distance within the West Bank. Since private drivers are not permitted to carry passengers for pay by the Palestinian police, the local drivers are limited to short jaunts to the neighboring villages.
We drive back through the checkpoint and go to the upper entrance to observe. A Palestinian approached us and again complained of problems obtaining a work permit: he has a permit to work in Israel but has not been given a permit to work his land in the seamline zone. His question ends with the usual “Ma osim?” (What’s to be done?) We give the usual answer: we’ll try, but can’t promise anything.
From 4:30 until 5:00 the number of workers arriving increased , but only one inspection point was open. Soon there were over 30 people standing in front of the turnstile. Soon there are calls of “Od chalon, allo!” (Hey, open another window!) Neta tries to call S., the checkpoint manager, and ask them to open another window. Within a few minutes there are close to 60 people in front of the turnstile, and all are shouting and angry. Another window finally opens at 5:00 – either as a result of Neta’s phone call or in response to the shouting crowd outside. By 5:10 everyone is inside, including three women who arrived with a child and two men with bicycles who waited for someone to open the gate for them. . I “marked” one man who had been standing at the end of the line and noted that it took him 15 minutes just to get to the turnstile and get into the terminal.
Despite the fact that this happens every day at this hour, the checkpoint staff seems unwilling to take the initiative and open a second (or third) window and avoid a backup.
On the way out a Palestinian recognizes Neta and stops us. “Why don’t you come and visit?”
“We can’t.”
“Why?”
“Only Israeli Arabs are allowed to visit the West Bank. Israeli Jews aren't."

“When will you be allowed?”
“When there’s peace, Insh’Allah.”