afternoon

Tulkarm and Jubara, Sunday afternoon, December 28, 2003 Observers: LS, YH and a guest YAK, ARK, AK and AH A tough and frustrating shift. Blunt words were spoken on both sides. We arrived at the Tulkarm checkpoint at 13:00. We were told that a closure was in force, though ten people were standing and waiting by the gate. Among them was a young woman from Taibeh with her daughter of 5 and a one-year old baby. She is a resident of Israel and has a blue identity card; her husband from Tulkarm has an orange ID. They married six years ago and have lived in Taibeh since then. The husband’s mother in Tulkarm is sick, and the whole family went to visit her. The soldiers took the husband (Ibrahim) on suspicion of being an illegal alien to the concrete ditch with other detainees. The girls were crying, hitting their mother and the fence: the older girl wanted her daddy. After prolonged negotiations in which the soldiers were asked either to send Ibrahim back to his wife, or to allow his wife and daughters to go to him the commander of the checkpoint (a First-Sergeant Stas, who forbade his soldiers to speak to us – he conducted the negotiations alone) agreed to let Ibrahim get closer to the gate so he could talk with and soothe his daughters. As he drew closer to the gate, the five-year old pushed at the fence to try and get to him. As a punishment, the first-sergeant sent him back to the ditch. Hopelessly, the father looked at his wife and children. His wife, Fatma, refused to leave the girls who screamed and called out to their father, all the time hitting the fence and their mother. It started raining and we convinced the mother to go home. She wanted to get to her mother’s and we took her there with her daughters. As we arrived at her mother’s, she burst out in heartbreaking tears. Until then she had stood her ground heroically against the soldiers, and bargained with them. From Taibeh, we went to the Jubara checkpoint. First we went to the “café” near the house. A group of men were standing there, one of whom, Sahib, told us via an interpreter that on Friday he had taken the son of his friend, with his two children, to Tulkarm. Since his friend had no entry permit, Sahib’s permit to reside in Jubara – which he was issued with last year - was taken from him and hasn’t been returned since. He pointed to Aviv as the soldier who confiscated his permit. We walked over to the outpost, but before we got there one of the soldiers ordered us to move away immediately. Why? We were disturbing their work. How so? “You’re disturbing us” and if we want to talk with one of the soldiers, we should wait until they get to us – his contemptuous voice and general omnipotence made us want to curb his power. It didn’t start with us, it was the accumulation of the day’s events. On the side entering Tulkarm, towards Jubara, I assessed that some 50 people were standing and waiting. When I asked if it’s legal to confiscate a permit, Aviv said yes, it is. I tried to phone the Tulkarm DCO, and was answered by a soldier called Avi, who said he was 80% sure it’s legal. I didn’t understand what the 80% meant. I asked to speak with a superior officer. Second-Ltd. Yossi answered, and said he’d find out, and that I should call him back 20 minutes later. Without going into too much detail, I tried every 20 minutes until close to 18:00, and each time Avi said that Yossi was out of the office and would be back in twenty minutes. It was pouring with rain, and Muhammad, a Jubara resident, said that the children were still standing by the gate. They didn’t open the gate. When we “raised our eyebrows”, the soldiers said someone had gone to open the gate. The children stood there in the cold, and later in pouring rain, for two hours! We drove to the gate and indeed, the children went through. We went back to the checkpoint and tried to find out about Sahib. The women from Rehovot drove off to see what was happening with the detainees in the ditch. It was quiet, and only three detainees remained, and then they went home. R. insisted on the release of two old men who were waiting on the Tulkarm side and wanted to go home to Jubara. Rain, mud and cold. A. and I went to see what was going on by the cabs. Waiting there were a mother and father with an 18 month-old baby who had been referred to hospital. They were in a cab. They were refused entry because of the closure. They’d been waiting there for two hours, and because they had left home in a rush, had no food and drink with them. I tried to help via Physicians for Human Rights, but they were unsuccessful too. Around 17:00, they gave up and went home. Aviv and another soldier who were pursuing someone who had run off, passed by, stopped a cab - with his rifle straight in the face of the driver, just a few centimeters away - interrogated him and then let him through. An ambulance was checked and went through quickly. My cell phone battery ran out, and A. went to bring hers. Because of the rain and mud, A. decided to come back in her car to the cab area. Though there’s no sign prohibiting entry there, the soldier standing there told her not to pass through. A. pointed out that it’s not forbidden, and if it is, then he should show her where. He said “Just wait, I’ll show you when you get back..” On our way back, the penalizing policy worked against us, as well! The soldiers put in place spikes (“traffic controllers”) and a road block and they told us that now we wouldn’t be able to get out. One of the soldiers stood close to the front of our car. Naturally, we didn’t move. At 17:30, the platoon-commander, Capt. Ro’i, arrived. We told him about his soldiers’ pranks, including the permit’s confiscation. R. asked that the people standing at the exit from Tulkarm be released to their homes. Ro’i checked the permits and then released them, one by one. One of them, whose wife was from Israel and he was from Tulkarm, standing with his five-year old son, said that they have a baby at home, in Tulkarm and they won’t allow his wife to come home. They had been standing there for hours, and Stas, the soldier, had threatened the women and hit her head while her child and husband looked on. We encouraged the husband to tell Ro’i. He plucked up courage in our presence, but summarized the details. Stas stood behind Ro’i, laughing all the time at the Palestinians’ stories. Another man related that two days ago, as he was returning from the fields with a car full of hyssop, they told him to park the car at one side, took the keys, and sent him off. Since then he’s been trying to get his car back, but without success. He’s worried about the hyssop, which will spoil if left in the car – it’s his livelihood. Ro’i released the car with the hyssop. If Ro’i released all the people standing there, then what does “closure” really mean? Why do people have to stand in such terrible conditions for hours, day after day? What rights exactly do the rankers staffing the checkpoint (who are children themselves) have to decide about Palestinians seeking to get through?