Rihan

New reportsRihan, Thursday, November 25, 2004, PMObservers: Shula and Mara (reporting together)14:00 - 15:00When we arrived, the checkpoint was almost empty of people and vehicles. Later on, the area sizzled with many pedestrians and an active traffic of vehicles.Here and there, people showed up, in a long march inside the fenced track (which resembles a cattle track leading the livestock in and out of their pen), stretching from the northern (Israel) parking lot toward the permanent buildings with the chimneys, ending at the inspection post by the pedestrian gate. From that gate, they continue to the southern parking lot, at which the cabs from the territories arrive, either to unload passengers who are going to Israel, or to pick up passengers who are traveling in the opposite direction. The parking lot is wide and large, brand new, and includes a waiting shed with a drinking water fountain and of course, not a single bench for sitting. No vehicle of any kind is permitted to park in that fancy parking lot. The Palestinian cabs wait on a lower level, a few hundred meters away from there, on the border of the occupied territories.What have we got today that we didn't have yesterday? A closure. As we once were told by a top official of the District Coordination Office (DCO): "There is a constant closure from the beginning of the intifada; from time to time it is lifted." And how will Arab Israelis know that precisely today, they are banned from going into the territories? The answer: "They should first come to the checkpoint and then they'll know." We ask the most courteous and polite soldiers, "Where do you use your own judgment?"B., one of the nicer officers, answers: "In humanitarian cases."Let us see what is NOT considered humanitarian, since, during our entire shift, not a single owner of a blue (Israeli) ID card, who spoke Arabic, was allowed to cross the CP.There is a funeral in the West Bank of a relative of two Arab Israelis who arrived from Nazareth. They weren't allowed in.A Palestinian man was waiting at the parking lot in front of the inspection gate. It is Thursday afternoon and he is expecting his wife and children. They live all week long in Barta'a, and are to be united with him for the weekend, in a house he owns in one of the villages. This is how they have been living, since it is illegal for him to stay in Barta'a. His request for family reunification is stuck in the Ministry of Interior. In the meantime the family runs a "double life," like other "mixed" families: He is a Palestinian from the territories, she is a Palestinian from the enclave area or from an Arab-Israeli village."Perhaps you could tell the soldiers to let her and the children come to me, or they should allow me to join them. How could I convince them of that?" he asked. Throughout our shift, his request wasn't answered.A woman driving her car, along with her three children, arrived from the village of Nazlath-Eisa. That village is a tiny place between eastern and western Baka al-Garbiyeh, a town that was divided into two by the fence. Some houses remained on the eastern side, and a few houses were left on the western side (other houses were totally destroyed, for the building of the wall). The woman lives on the western side and the father stayed to live and protect the family home on the eastern side.On weekends, and sometimes even in the middle of the week, she is allowed to go with her sons (30 meters) to her husband's house. Today, the soldiers in Baka told her: Today there is a closure, you can't go in. Try to cross at Rihan, they might let you in over there."She drove to Rihan. They didn't let her in and she came back humiliated and in tears.The cars and buses of the settlers go through the CP, speeding. The soldiers don't even acknowledge their existence, and we wonder why Israeli Arabs, driving cars with yellow plates, bother to stop for inspection? Why don't they raise their heads and speed through the CP in the settlers' lane, like any Jew residing in Israel or the West Bank.We went to check how the actual car inspection operates.A yellow cab ( a van) drove passengers from the West Bank into the enclave area. The driver, who has an entrance permit to Barta'a, let off the passengers in the parking lot in front of the inspection gate for pedestrians and went back to the vehicle inspection post. Personal belongings and luggage destined for Barta'a were left in the cab. Each bag and package is opened: "There are too many cameras – it's a commercial quantity," says a female soldier in a harsh tone of voice. Another female soldier tries to calm her down and exchange positions with her.The driver puts all the bags inside and drives away. He doesn't go too far, and transfers some of the bags to another car. Again he goes to be inspected; they go through the luggage thoroughly as if they didn't inspect everything 7 minutes ago. Again they say that he has "Too much of this and too much of that." The driver goes back, unloads some more luggage to friends' cars and returns to the soldiers, once again, the third time. The soldiers turn everything upside down and again, there is "too much."The driver murmurs angrily in Arabic: "Enough, may God take you.""What did you just say?" the female soldier asks angrily, "What was that?"A pickup truck loaded with yellow containers of olive oil is being sent back and forth as well. According to the driver, it is permitted to bring in only two rows of containers and he had one extra container. He goes back, looking for someone to take that container for him, just behind the checkpoint, but to no avail. In the end the soldiers did him a favor, allowing him in, but not before checking each container with extra strictness.Why this nuisance, why don't you let them bring in whatever they need for living?"When given a finger, they might want the entire hand."At the pedestrian gate stands a boy about 15 years old, claiming he is from Barta'a. No one from his family can come to pick him up. He holds a faded piece of paper with his name printed on it and few other personal details. We recognize the boy, who often crosses the CP, always with great difficulty. This time, the soldier tells us and him: "He won't go in until he learns to bring along a document of his mother (reminder: the mother lives in Barta'a). The boy moves aside; he'll continue to wait there even when the CP is closed. Maybe, somehow, somebody will eventually let him in.