Qalandiya, Sun 26.5.13, Afternoon

Ronit Dahan Ramati and Tamar Fleishman (reporting); Guest: Yona Shimshi


Translation: Ruth Fleishman


"To us all the days are Nakba", said a friend who told us about the lives of the Palestinians.

Because what seems to us, the Israelis, as routine or as "the routine of the occupation" (an obscene expression in my opinion), is for millions of human beings the continuing grind of the daily struggle for survival.

It wasn't routine for the elder man who was being transferred from the Jerusalem ambulance to the one from the occupied territories. The man, who had had his leg amputated from the knee down at Mukased hospital, a patient with a multisystem illness who had yet to recover from the amputation, was jiggled about, tossed, placed on the second stretcher and taken inside the second ambulance in order to bring him to the hospital in his town Jenin, for more treatment.

The hospital at Jenin, like other hospitals in the West Bank (due to restrictions and the policy of the administrators of the occupation), doesn't have the necessary skills and equipment to treat patients in such complicated and dire conditions, and so these patients require one of the six Palestinian hospital in East Jerusalem.


But this certainly was the routine of the soldiers and security men who inspected and made sure that everything was being performed according to regulations and orders.

The same went for the health coordinators in Beit-El, where permits for passage from the West Bank to East Jerusalem are issue, it was their routine as well.

And it was also the routine of the GSS men who supervise the occupation, without whose permission no man, woman, babyinfo-icon or corps passes to the other side, they will first make sure that the elder patient is not a security threat and that there is no reason to prevent him from arriving at the hospital and from returning with one third of his leg missing.


A matter not as important and that has almost become mundane was our detainment/ confinement in front of the soldiers' inner post.

We were released after about ten minutes by superintendent Ami who told us with pride that he was the one that some weeks ago ordered that Roni, Norah and me be detained.


It is hard to believe, but the facts speak for themselves:  there is a crack in the wall!


Perhaps this is because:


"There is a Crack, a Crack in Everything/That's How the Light Gets In"  /   Leonard Cohen.