Qalandiya
It's the beginning of the Hebrew month Nissan. Flowers are blooming in an abundance of colors. It's freezing cold.
The checkpoint is unusually quiet and people are crossing fast and smoothly until 5:45. In spite of the early hour, two turnstiles are working. Later on a third one opens. The restrooms are open. People enter them. Evidently the pipes that were stolen have been replaced (according to a soldier, two weeks ago).
Towards 6 o'clock the number of people has grown. The line is getting longer and stretches on to the parking. Some young people start pushing. The older people move back. In the crowd some minor injuries are caused (one person shows us that he has been injured by the cage). One person asks us why we come if we cannot help. We explain and talk. It seems to me that the fact that two grandmothers get up at 4 o'clock in the morning in order to be at the checkpoint does have an impact. I've watched this checkpoint for two months already, but I haven't gotten used to the horrible sight of people being squeezed together into the cages. What a difference between the workers being crammed together and the free birds singing between the barbed wire-fences. The police woman is worried about the cats suffering from a skin disease. She asks us when Marsha is coming. (Marsha "takes care" of the animals and brings food to the cats) – who worries about the people? On one of the poles there is a notice about a missing beautiful wolf-dog.
The humanitarian gate opens on time. A 55 year old man tells us that he intends to check if indeed people above the age of 50 are permitted to cross without papers. He is fantasizing about a café, about praying on the Temple Mount and about visiting Jerusalem. He is waiting for the line to get shorter. Close to 7 o'clock, before he leaves for Jerusalem he takes the time to tell us that he is yearning for peace. So are we.