Morning

Etzion: Buses are again on the road, after a long absence. Indeed, procedures at this checkpoint today were unlike anything we had seen over the last six months or so. Specifically, the ban on all passengers under 45 years of age was lifted: imagine, literally over-night, almost all may continue their journey after a brief ID check. We shall see how long this relative relief, which according to the Palestinians began only this morning, lasts. Since people were not prepared for the change, many followed their regular habit of attempting to bypass the checkpoint through the forest. Those caught welcomed us at the 'detainees arena', behind the fence to the east side of the checkpoint. Among them were a group of young laborers from Nuba village, who work as tile-layers in a building site in Eizariye. Because of the immense difficulties in travelling to their workplace they usually return to Nuba once every two or three weeks, and spend the nights in a rented room in Eizariye. This morning, before arriving in Etzion, the group split in two, and each sub-group tried to cross through a different path. All were caught. Another detainee, a laborer from El Arroub, said that he had just witnessed BPs hitting young boys near the camp's southern entrance. We went to check, and indeed where al-Arroub high-school students normally wait for the school bus that takes them to Beit Omar, several BP were lining up some 60 schoolboys. We were told that some time ago a stone was thrown from al-Arroub at an Israeli car. "These are our detainees", they added, "and we will hold them until we identify the suspect". The last thing the bps needed at that moment was our intervention ("Yefot nefesh" they muttered, "its your car that should have been stoned"). They tried to get rid of us, but their plan to frighten the kids was already interrupted. One took out tear gas grenades and toyed with them in front of the children, asking whether they knew what these were and how they can be used. Nonetheless, with us there the show was soon over, and the young detainees were allowed to leave. Some remained with us, mentioning that episodes of this like occur almost on a daily basis. One result is that they are often late (even very late) to school. One told us that the border policeman hit him with the rifle and that he screamed back in Hebrew. Back at Etzion checkpoint, an 18 year old boy from Beit Omar was caught near the checkpoint as he tried to cross unnoticed. The soldiers placed him in a small, cage like facility, isolated from the rest of the detainees. One soldier confessed that they were holding the man to teach him a lesson (the lesson lasted until mid-day, after which time he was released). It is hard to tell whether it is the cumulated impact of months and years of prohibited movement, or the fact that not many Palestinians have heard about the eased regulations, but the checkpoint compound was relatively empty this morning, with only very few busses passing through (at long intervals) during the nearly two hours we spent there. A bus driver from Halhul described his desperate situation: Today he was already on the road at 4.00 AM, yet during the five hours that past since, he has completed one single drive from Halhul to El-Khadr, collecting just 60 shekels from the passengers, which will barely cover his costs. Nowadays, he told us, passengers do nor want to pay for their tickets in advance: "Who knows whether we will complete our journey, let's get through Etzion checkpoint first". Then, at Etzion, most people are denied entrance and many leave without having paid. "I have reached a point where I am struggling not for bread and milk for my children, but only for the bread... we can manage without milk". We took advantage of the unexpected departure of the border police jeep from al-Khadr junction to pay a short visit to the boys' school where, as usual, we were warmly received. The assassination of two al-Fatah activists last Tuesday had left its impact. The day after, only a handful of pupils arrived in school, and all participated in the huge funeral processions. An English teacher who lives in El-Khadr, not far from the home of the assassinated, told us that after the "incident" a tank and armored vehicles remained in the vicinity of the site. People were furious with anger and protested in the streets. Soldiers used lots of tear gas to disperse them and the gas spread into homes, harming children and adults. At some stage, the tank moved forward in a narrow street. An elderly man, owner of a commercial vehicle, noticed that the tank was advancing towards his car and pleaded that it stop, but the tank continued until it crushed the vehicle. Here in school, anger and outrage are contained, though, and all energies are directed at one goal: completing this school year (due to end in a month) without providing the army with the slightest pretext for destructive intervention. The name of the game is self restraint.