Morning

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Nov-14-2002
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We approached the Qalandya checkpoint a few minutes before 7am and saw no unusual crowding. Schoolchildren passed quickly and efficiently as the reservist whisked them through. He spoke good Arabic and seemed interested in having things go smoothly. Before we reached the checkpoint, we met three doctors from one of the hospitals (Mukassad?) who were very upset. "Please do something" they said. "We have to cross on foot, can't reach the hospital on time and after 6pm we are locked up in Ramallah and can't deal with emergencies." No money available, evidently, for a taxi to pick them up at the checkpoint and whisk them to the hospital. At the checkpoint, on the northern side, we were accosted by one of the soldiers who complained about one of our women badmouthing the commander this week. Few people were refused entry, but one young woman with an orange ID on her way to the eye doctor at the French hospital in Jerusalem couldn't come in. Her sister, the proud owner of a blue ID, was allowed in. The family is divided into two: mother (Jordanian, but a long-time Jerusalem resident) and older sister have blue ID's; the father (a Ramallah resident) and the younger sister have orange ones. They are Christian and we conversed in English. It seemed she had not tried to go to Jerusalem in a long time, just to avoid the unpleasantness of the procedure. She just couldn't face the hassle of going to the authorities and asking for the favor of a permit entrusting her sister with the job of getting her to the doctor somehow. The reservist who was standing outside the control post on our side of the fence, roughly told us not to talk to people waiting to cross. We saw several young men being held up. Their blue ID's were suspicious. While we were watching, a young man going north, enthusiastically shook our hands and complimented us on coming and how we made such a difference, etc. The reservist outside the control post laughed out loud and said: Oh boy he made your day, didn't he? Then he said: "Kalbot novechot ivrit" (Barking Hebrew speaking bitches) . M went to the commander and told him, saying that we would complain about him and that a certain level of civility should be maintained at all times. The five or six young men who had been waiting for their ID cards to be examined, were released and passed to the south in about fifteen minutes.At E-Ram things were less smooth. The commander was not there and it certainly made a difference. One social worker, with excellent Hebrew, a blue ID and a card showing he was employed at a family agency in Jerusalem, was not allowed to pass through. He was pissed off in a bad way, as he had a 9 o'clock appointment to make. In the end he decided to go around the checkpoint. We urged him to call the Moked, but only their answering machine replied. An entire family, dressed up in their Sunday best, with Jordanian (?) passports was sent back because they had no Israeli visas.