Qalandiya

Qalandiya

It’s been years since I’ve heard the threat that if I don’t leave the Palestinians will be punished.  But that’s what Police Officer Grushko said, that as long as I’m “here” they won’t conduct work, and emphasized that no patients will be transferred between ambulances, no ambulance will go through, he said.

“Here” isn’t next to Police Officer Grushko or the security personnel or the soldiers.

“Here” is on the sidewalk, beyond the fence dividing the “here” where I’m standing from the “there” where they’re standing.  “Here” is alongside the Palestinian buses, a public space, and the ambulances come “here” to transfer their patients and the injured back-to-back.

But Police Officer Grushko’s threat couldn’t be tested because during almost half an hour that I stood “here,” no ambulance arrived “here.”

A large group of male and female soldiers crowded together behind the fences inside the checkpoint.

“They’re preparing for Ramadan,” said the Palestinians.

Maybe that’s what they were doing in there, and maybe not.

Providing food for the children is very difficult,

an acquaintance said to me as we gazed at an improvised clothing shop a man had opened on the parking lot fence.

Very difficult.