Qalandiya checkpoint: The exit gate is open - why are they standing silently, waiting?

Share:
Facebook Twitter Whatsapp Email
Place: 
Observers: 
Tamar Fleishman; Translator: Tal H.
Aug-5-2018
|
Afternoon
Palestinians wait quietly in order to pass the checkpoint on the way home to Gaza.
Palestinians wait quietly in order to pass the checkpoint on the way home to Gaza.
Photo: 
Tamar Fleishman

First they emerge with all their belongings out of the DCO offices, located deep inside the checkpoint compound, stop in front of the exit gate, some of them place their bags and suitcases down, others continue to hold on to them so that they won’t disappear, and they wait.

Palestinians wait quietly. Without nerves. Seemingly accepting some invisible law/logic. Not to know nor try to guess what will happen or is likely to happen immediately or soon or later.

They stand in the darkened interior and wait. Some are standing on their feet, others helped by crutches, some in the arms of their mothers, in wheelchairs. They wait. Although the gate in front of them is not locked, none of them tries to push the metal bars and exit, until the Civil Administrationinfo-icon man arrives. Perhaps because he holds all of their IDs and transit permits. And the fate of Palestinians without IDs is not something one wishes to imagine.

Only then, accompanied by the Administration man and his weapon, the patients who have been released from hospitals in the West Bank and their escorts (if they have any) do exit, load their belongings onto their transport vehicle and get on their way, home to Gaza.

Abdulrahman, born two weeks ago in caesarian section at a Nablus hospital
Abdulrahman, born two weeks ago in caesarian section at a Nablus hospital
Photo: 
Tamar Fleishman

Youngest of today’s passengers is Abdulrahman, born two weeks ago in caesarian section at a Nablus hospital to his ill mother.

When I stood next to this mother and her babyinfo-icon son, her phone rang. It was home calling, Gaza. They were worried, wanted to know whether she and the baby were alright, that they were already on their way. The mother who was very busy with this phone call handed me the baby. I held him in my arms, rocked him and felt that I had never before experienced such pleasure in this place.

Are you entering? a security guard asked me. Yes, why? I asked. Because you look Jewish and it’s dangerous. Dangerous? I asked – depends for whom, I answered and continued to walk.

During the two hours I  spent at this “dangerous” place, inside, I met many people and heard many stories, but of all I had heard, there is one thing I wish to tell: what happened to Sharif who lives in a house with a yard and a garden in a neighborhood not far from the refugee camp. One day soldiers raided his home. Two of them grabbed his arms and took him out of the home and garden, took out his wife as well, ran around inside and outside, making loud noises and yelling.

What are you doing? Asked Sharif. Shut up! They answered. It’s a maneuver.

What was worst, said Sharif, was that his two-year old son remained inside. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed him. The child said curled up and kept silent.

The child remained silent after the maneuver ended and the soldiers left. It took time until he could speak again.