Qalandiya
It is maddening to see an ill girl being passed from hand to hand and from gurney to ambulance and back, inspected in the long and tedious procedure first at Erez Checkpoint and then again at Qalandiya Checkpoint, repeating the ordeal among hands and ambulances in order to finally proceed to Al Najah Hospital in Nablus.
It was raining all day. It was raining in Gaza, raining in Qalandiya and it was certainly raining in Nablus. But no one thought it is wrong that a very ill girl – “He has a very serious illness of the blood” said the Red Crescent man, with her feet stretched and yellowish, her eyes shut, her mouth and nose covered with a surgical mask for fear of infection – no one thought it was wrong to expose her to the rain. Not that there is no other option, for no more than 5 paces from the spot meant for ambulances is a large, sheltered area where vehicles are inspected, bound for Jerusalem. There, under that very large roof, stand the soldiers, policemen and security guards. But not the ill girl from Gaza, who has a very serious illness of the blood.