Abu Dis, Ras Abu Sbitan (Olive Terminal), Sheikh Saed, Mon 20.12.10, Afternoon

When we drove down Jebel Mukaber at 1:45 a huge wave of schoolgirls with white scarves climbed up the road towards us. We had seen dozens before, but now it looked not just like hundreds but possible even thousands and the view was AMAZING. Unfortunately we were unable, because of the narrow road and the amount of traffic, to stop and take a picture.

Sheikh Saed

We entered  unnoticed, despite trying to call out to the soldier and approached one of the drivers who spoke a beautiful Hebrew to ask him for a ride back and forth to the Sawahre CP where we had not been in a long time. We had to bargain, because he demanded an exorbitant fee. The road is of course even worse than before and the stench of the ‘river’ down in the wadi next to the olive groves indescribable.

A pipe had burst next to the CP and the mud was deep, but some planks had been laid over the pedestrian passage.

Two Border Police men (a Druze from Migdal Shams and an Ethiopian from Beit Shemesh, who both stated that they live ‘abroad’) welcomed us and explained how the CP works. Only a few vehicles with special permission are allowed in and out. Their license numbers are listed.

A group of children who study in Jebel Mukabr on their way home to Sawahre passed without inspection. We asked how they had arrived; it turned out that they came  via the Road of the Americas and a turn-off to the CP. We decided to investigate this option and returned to our driver who, aged 29 and married with a child, has no chance of getting a work permit. It  cost more than 10,000 Shekels! He doesn’t want to work in the territories because he will never earn more than 1,000-1,500 Sh. per month and even for the one month around X-mas it is not worth his while to ‘bother’ finding a job in Bethlehem. Very sad.

On the way out near the turnstiles we met an elderly man who said he wanted to go to the clinic, but was refused. We asked the soldier who in no uncertain words explained that there is no way he can pass unless he has a permit. The man apparently knew, he didn’t even wait for us to find out for him.

On the Road of the Americas all the new shiny road signs have been taken off. We asked a taxi driver on the way for instructions to get to Zena’s Bakery where the turn-off is and he insisted to show us by driving in front of us. He had been refused entry there and wondered why. We were allowed only as far as the gate, because we would not be allowed back, if we entered, according to the soldiers. We saw some military vehicles on the fancy security road outside the wall, which leads to the Cliff Hotel in Abu Dis past the settlement of Kidmat Zion. The checkpoint is manned by eight people and is open 24 hours a day. In addition there are a number of Palestinian maintenance workers (for cleaning etc.) they all have blue Id’s somehow, but live respectively in Hebron, Ramalla and Se’ir – only going home once a week.

There is new very colorful graffiti on the wall in Abu Dis, which has not yet been painted over.

The Olive Terminal

At the Olive Terminal many cars were waiting at the exit, but only very few people passed. When we asked whether there is a ‘rush’ hour in the afternoon we were told that no one unless he has to because of medical reasons would want to cross there, because it is such a hassle. Therefore it is never crowded – life is miserable, we were told.

We proceeded to Issawiya where we only saw the concrete blocks and two Border Police vans parked on the hill next to the CP, but no soldiers. A road sign before the checkpoint indicates that we are entering a dead-end street. It was very crowded and difficult to find a spot to turn around at the bottom.

On the way back we met a huge crowd of people coming down the alley from Mount Scopus. It turned out to be a group of students who had joined a tour organized by the activists of Sheikh Jarrah under the guidance of a local activist. We showed him our badges and he was pleased.

Beyond the CP we stopped at the gas station to find the checkpoint manned. Another four soldiers with their rifles drawn came out of the parked cars and a blue police van pulled up – both policemen hugged the two border policemen behind their concrete slabs and slapped their backs. A remark by us about the garbage on the floor next to the big empty frog container was ignored. Then one of the officers said: “They burn them all the time.”