Bethlehem. People stop, sigh and ask if this is how their lives will look forever ...
A report dreary as it is but much about nothing….just another weary day at Bethlehem
As always the walk from Tantur is surrealistic - coming from a warm and comfortable house. The cold and dirty pavements are the home to all those waiting for the most part in a heavy silence for the working day to begin. To some coming to see the checkpoint for the first night in the dark before the dawn, the silence of the men, their looks or even the way they refrain from looking at you, the way they do not seem to see you when you walking amongst them, may seem menacing. I know this happened to one visitor who turned back and went home almost as soon as she had got out of the taxi. At least she was one of my friends who tried to come bit it was too overwhelming for her. She had been with me to Qalandiya but this strengthened my feeling of how differently the two checkpoints affect the visitor.. But she at least is one of the few who do not retire into her cocoon of not seeing. I had not been with her that day and maybe had I been able to go, she would have felt more comfortable with another woman who, at least, so she believe, know the ropes. But over the years I myself have become immume though I can understand the feeling of someone seeing this with the eyes of a stranger.
The only light coming from the decorations of an ironic “merry Christmas” on the electric poles and the fires which have been made in the field for a bit of warmth.
As least it is not like the days at Macabiem c.p where the soldiers would come to those at the side of the road far from the checkpoint and force them to put the fire out. Here the soldiers do not leave their safe enclave.
There is a shed kiosk in the field…..and here again is the difference between the coffee scenes which Bruce Schaffer filmed at Qalandiya. But this also brings some comfort I hope to tired and cold men at the beginning of a hard day. But today none of the security took any notice of me and I sat in silence.There was a steady stream of people even when I left at 7.15. As one gets closer to the entrance it is hard to make one’s way in. If the old cigarette seller sees me, he tries to make a way. People congregate there because it where the buses await them . Three men were sent back. One I heard complaining loudly about why his tasrich had been taken from him but then surrounded by four security he chose the better part of valour and left. There was no way to speak to him to find out what had happened.
Again and again people come to complain about the crowds and pressure on the other side. They ask that we should come and see. The women especially come out looking I many cases very upset. Again I was told of a man who had nearly fainted in the pressure.
People come rushing out, putting their belts on. Some greet with a word, a lift of an eyebrow or a grimace, stop next to me wordless but with a sigh and ask if this is to be their life for the rest of time……and like all of us I have no answer for them. They want to know how much we earn and when I say we are volunteers I am not sure they believe me.
Once again I was asked if I were Sylvie by some one who was waiting for a reply from her and on the way back ….I walked part of the way to see what was happening at the slave market opposite Tantur a man who saw my tag and I gave him Phyllis’s details to see if she could help him.