Ar-Ram, Hizma, Qalandiya
The sweeping wind, ceaseless rain and strike of the public-services caused scant presence of Palestinians both on the roads and at the checkpoint.
Those who did manage to come and stand at the entrance of the DCO offices were a middle-aged man accompanied by a tall, silent young man (body guard?). The locked entrance did not bother the man, who said “I’m a senior official of the Palestinian Authority” and added that he should not be coming to them, they should be coming to him to bring him the permits he requested. And indeed, a few minutes later it did indeed happen just as he said. I suppose that when one hand washes the other, no waiting lines and harassment are in store.
“That’s fine, don’t you think?” he asked. “No, not at all” I answered.
The main entrance to A-Ram looked like a war zone. Boys armed with stones and slingshots, facing soldiers armed with rifles and grenades, and they all hurled stones and fired at each other.
A cloud of teargas lay on the ground and did not disperse.
The active ingredients in the teargas grenades have perhaps/probably been changed. In fact, I have never encountered such horrible might, and I have never in my life escaped as fast as I did this time.
It’s been a week since the Israeli army invaded the village of Hizma, took over the entrances and exits, and blocked vehicles from using the main village access.
The soldiers inspect IDs of the people arriving and allow only village residents to enter. Why? – “They’re throwing stones”, the soldiers said. And also:
“We’ll punish them until they learn to behave.”
“They’re strangling us”, said a friend from Hizma.