Qalandiya, Sun 10.1.10, Afternoon

With a clenched fist raised up to a salute and a shout that could be heard from all sides of the checkpoint:

ONLY CHECKPOINTS!!! ... ONLY CHECKPOINTS!!!... INSPECTIONS FOREVER!!!-

That was how one of the soldiers in charge of the country's security greeted us, as he sat in the sterile post, separated by a glass bullet proof window from the objects of his hate.

He repeated that gesture twice. His mates didn't conceal their sympathy and agreement as they nodded their heads with a content smile across their faces.  

A forty year old man that had returned from the USA a while ago, where he had studied biology and had worked in his filed of profession for several years, had been arrested at around noon at the checkpoint when he was presenting his blue ID to the soldiers. According to his ID he is a resident of Jerusalem. He was taken to the base at the back side of the checkpoint.

Before his phone was taken from him (as it is costume), he managed to leave note with his sister who had called their father.

We met the elder father, a respectable man. He was worried and confused after having talked to people from "Gisha", where he was told they deal with such incidents only a day after they occur.

We advised him to call the commander of the checkpoint, who told him: that the law demands that such incidents be handled by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and that until they complete the procedure, his son would stay under the supervision of the police, as though he was an escaped convict.

While he was getting all that off his chest, telling us about all the jobs he had, trying to send his children to the best schools possible, his expression grew sadder and tears started running down, filling the wrinkles across his face. He hurried to whip his cheeks of with his hand, as though the tears were mosquito bites and not the emotional outburst after hearing he will have to part from his son, who according to the law which discriminates people according to their race, will have to go overseas in search of his future, instead of building his home in his place of birth which is the center of his life.

In front of the Qalandya refugee camp, at the entrance to the checkpoint, an area which is under the jurisdiction of Jerusalem, and where municipal officials enforce the peddlers' laws as they fine them and confiscate their belongings, were smells of sewage and car fuels. A long line of vehicles also stands there, all cramped one after the other, children running around between them, searching for their prey- someone to buy their useless merchandise or clean someone's window screen for a few Shekels.

The reality on that side of the checkpoint is in complete contrast with what can be found on the "Jewish" side, where the red color of the anemone in the green square greet the passers, as is suitable for a terminal.