Qalandiya - waiting for hours to get DCO assistance

At the vehicle checkpoint, on the public transportation lane, a bus from Ramallah to Jerusalem was stopped.

This is the Israeli army’s official procedure.

Security guards and soldiers entered it to inspect the passengers’ papers, and disembarked leading a woman and a man accompanied by armed men, shamefully, into the checkpoint compound.

I watched the goings-on from afar. I was standing on the pedestrian sidewalk which – obviously, or not so obviously – is meant for humans to stand on. The sight of me standing there antagonized an armed security guard who began to shout, “Ho-ho-ho!”, and when unanswered, “Hi-hi-hi!” I never looked at the origin of those cries nor responded, so he began shouting “Majnouna, majouna…!” (‘madwoman’ in Arabic).

When the detainees escaped my field of vision, I disappeared as well.

After nearly two hours, back at that spot, watching how a driver of a tender carrying a cupboard was ordered by the soldiers to take apart the ropes and blue protective wrap around the cupboard, cries towards me were resumed. Again I did not respond, so a security guard approached me, stood opposite me and yelled: “I know, you are a leftist and an antisemite, scram!”

So what did I do? – Took wing.

***

Closed – opened – closed:

Once again, the route leading from the pedestrian checkpoint to the refugee camp was closed and locked. Again, Palestinians now had to walk hundreds of added and superfluous yards to reach the main road.

Police and security guards did this three days ago, so I was told by my acquaintances, this was when the Jews were on holiday. The next day, Palestinians came with break-in tools and opened the lock, and then police returned and locked it, announcing they would arrest anyone daring to open it again.

So that is how it has been ever since. Everyone knows that everything here is videoed, and no one wants to be taken into custody.

But there are those who manage to spare themselves the extra walk – young men who come home from a day’s work and brave the climb over the locked gate.

Half an hour before official closing time I reached the front of the DCO offices.

Dozens of people crowded in front of the waiting shed, and the offices for which they had come.

There were women, men and children there, and a 3-month-old baby who dozed and sometimes sucked on a bottle in the arms of his young mother.

The gate leading to the waiting shed in front of the offices was locked. On the red benches in front of the DCO office, many sat awaiting their turn, and inside the office as well many waited to be called up to the armored window, hoping that perhaps – only perhaps – their request would be met.

Everyone, both inside and out, had a note with a number according to which they entered the inner courtyard to wait some more. People waited for hours for their turn to be taken care of.

A woman, aged and heavy, collapsed on a chair as small as a kindergarten chair, said “I need to go to the bathroom”, and that she had been waiting here since 11 a.m. (four and a half hours). Three times people inside have asked for her to have the door opened so she could reach the bathroom, but no answer came. She is afraid to leave lest her number be called and she miss her turn, said a man standing next to her.