Many armed personnel in vehicles invaded Qalandiya. Throughout Qalandiya.
“A surprise exercise throughout Judea and Samaria,” according to the radio.
Only the Palestinians hadn’t been informed.
It was also announced the exercise was being conducted on orders of the new military chief of staff.
There’s a saying: a new broom sweeps clean. The saying doesn’t hold water at Qalandiya. The new broom and its minions left panic behind at Qalandiya, trails of anger and hatred like the signs the military vehicles left in the muddy ground. You could almost smell the children’s fear. The children from the refugee camp.
A Border Police officer was there also, boasting he’d participated in the nighttime incursion of the Duvdevan unit into the refugee camp according to Ron Ben-Yishai’s public relations piece:
I told him what I thought about the activity and he told me what he thought of me and added his personal blessing.
A sick woman went through the checkpoint on her way to Makassed Hospital in East Jerusalem, in an ambulance from Nablus. But before allowing the ambulance to go through, it and the patient inside were detained for over an hour outside the checkpoint. The doubtful, unacceptable excuse of “no coordination” returns, along with the mistreatment of a suffering person.
When the bureaucratic obstacles had been removed and the ambulance from Jerusalem had arrived, the woman emerged erect and proud and walked without support or assistance. She didn’t want to be seen miserable, transported by stretcher. “Independent,” the paramedic said proudly. No relative accompanied her. Apparently no one had received a permit from the authorities.
But a woman and her nine-year-old son didn’t go through because they’d forgotten his birth certificate at home.
Nor did an elderly man carrying a sealed container of pickled olives: “That’s not allowed!” declared the soldier. Even when the man opened the lid, inserted his hand and removed a handful of olives and showed them to the soldier so he’ll see they’re olives, not a bomb, not explosives, not ammunition. Only olives, but again the shout was heard: “Forbidden!”
Nor did a horse and rider go through the vehicle crossing. The guy had the right document – the blue, Jerusalem ID, but what about the horse? There were no yellow license plates on its forequarters or its hindquarters as required for vehicles able to travel on Israeli roads. At the conclusion of the discussion between the soldiers and the guards who were called because of the strange couple it was decided that since the horse had no veterinary permit it’s not allowed to cross.