Qalandiya Refugee Camp - 56 years of occupation

56 years of occupation, 56 years during which millions have not known a single day of freedom in their lives.

The proximity of the intimidating checkpoint to the Qalandiya refugee camp and the apartheid wall mirrors military occupation and its essence.

One can learn here about the relationship of dominator and dominated, about Jewish supremacy, the rule of terror, and all the human beings kneeling as a trampling boot crushes their necks.

I came to the protest hill, that had known days of fire and smoke, from which children and youth came out to protest against the symbols of occupation, a hill from which they would shower stones and fire bombs, from where burning tires were rolled at the watchtower neighboring the checkpoint, and consequently the army’s most recent weapons retaliated.

Not one nor two were murdered on the track leading from the top of the hill, its slopes and in the alleys opposite.

Facing the memories of the past, the hill now stands sad and deserted, proving to what extent the occupation has penetrated the skin of the dominated whose only wish now is to end the day unharmed, make the minimum to feed their children, lock the door at night and hope that no army forces would break in and kidnap any of the family members, who would walk the next day, the next days, without being hit by a bullet.

From the hill I turned to the refugee camp and the alleys from which freedom fighters would emerge, their young fist closing on stones and heading towards the symbols of rule. Even the alleys are now empty of protestors and anger. The only thing that is left is the void, no protest, no demonstrations, and worst of all - no horizon and no hope. Only a corrosive grayness.

There was an ill patient, resident of Beit Liqiya, returned to his home after being examined by CT-PET at the Augusta Victoria East Jerusalem hospital. True, the shortest or quickest way from Jerusalem to Beit Liqiya is not via Qalandiya, but it is the only one allowed. This patient lay in the ambulance that brought him from Jerusalem and waited until the West Bank ambulance arrived. Only after being checked – he and his documents all – was he allowed to switch ambulances.

Why is Israel inspecting anyone going from Jerusalem to anywhere in the West Bank?

I who pass between here and there have never been inspected when going into the West Bank, and know that it is not state security that causes such harassment of ill patients. It is the show of domination in every little bit of the lives of its subjects.

Thus, on this day and facing all of these facts, I was saddened and remembered what Primo Levy wrote:

“This was the same familiar shame that washed over us… anytime we had to witness injustice or bend our heads to it.” (The Melting, Heb. p. 10)

Before I left the place with all its complexity, Mohammad Tamimi smiled at me from his picture.