|
My name is
Enid
Gordon. I
am a
Methodist
Minister at
present on
sabbatical
working for
Quaker Peace
and Social
Witness as
an
Ecumenical
Accompanier
serving on
the World
Council of
Churches
Ecumenical
Accompaniment
Programme in
Palestine/Israel
(EAPPI). The
views
contained in
this e-mail
are personal
and do not
necessarily
reflect
those of the
Methodist
Church, QPSW
or the WCC.
If you would
like to
distribute
further,
publish the
information
contained
here, or to
place it on
a website
please first
contact the
QPSW Middle
East
Programme
Manager,
Floresca
Karanasou (florescak@quaker.org.uk)
for
permission.
Thank you.
I hardly
know where
to begin.
Perhaps I
should begin
with what
dominates
much of my
time here in
Bethlehem,
attendance
at
Checkpoint
300.
My alarm
goes off at
five minutes
to four and
I wash and
dress and
pant as I
hurriedly
climb the
steep hill
that leads
to the
checkpoint.
At 4.30am
already
between 500
and 800 men
have
assembled,
some
arriving as
early as 1am
in order to
gain a place
at the front
of the
queue.
Vendors line
the road
selling
bread,
humus,
coffee and
tea. Bright
security
lights shine
from above
the wall,
which stands
nearly nine
metres
high.
Parallel to
the wall are
two high
rows of iron
railings
forming an
80 metre
long
corridor
which feels
and looks
like a
cage. Here
the men wait
and smoke
and try to
keep warm in
the bitter
cold night
air. The
early ones
sit on the
concrete,
lean against
the railings
and try to
sleep,
others kneel
in prayer on
flattened
cardboard
boxes, the
black
plastic bag
containing
their packed
lunch placed
on the
ground by
their side.
The
checkpoint
is due to
open at 5am
but it often
takes at
least one
phone call
to the
humanitarian
hotline in
order to get
them to get
the soldier
to open at
the agreed
time, by
which time
it is
usually
5.15am.
The
corridor/cage
holds two
people side
by side if
they are not
too fat, and
very few
people here
are fat.
But the men
(and it is
mainly men)
are so
anxious to
pass through
the
checkpoint
so they
won’t be
late for
work that
they squash
in as
tightly as
is humanly
possible in
order to
pass through
at the
earliest
possible
moment.
This is
particularly
distressing
for the few
women who
are forced
through
circumstance
to venture
out at this
time in the
morning,
because
their
culture
prohibits
close
contact with
men. EAPPI
have
repeatedly
requested a
separate
corridor for
women,
children,
the elderly
and those
who are sick
or whose
mobility is
impaired.
But the
general and
repeated
answer from
the soldiers
on the
ground is,
“That is
their
problem. It
is not my
problem.”
One member
of the EAPPI
team stands
outside the
corridor/cage,
near the
bullet-proof
glass booth
in which the
soldier
sits. One
of our jobs
is to count
the number
of people
waiting at
4.45 and
then count
the people
as they pass
one at a
time through
the narrow
turnstile.
One morning
we counted
about 2,500
people but
numbers
vary. If
people going
through the
turnstile
are holding
children or
bags or
parcels or
cases this
can be quite
a struggle,
as the
turnstile
was only
made to hold
one thin
person.
My chosen
role is to
accompany
people as
they wait
and queue in
order to
pass through
to the next
holding bay
to observe
what happens
there, as
this is
where most
trouble
arises.
And so we
wait. Last
Tuesday we
waited so
crushed
together in
the
corridor/cage
that one man
fainted and
the mood
became
angry. I,
and those
standing
near me
waited for
two hours
and
twenty-five
minutes
before we
reached the
first
turnstile
and the
light turned
green and we
could show
our passport
in my case
and identity
card and
permit in
theirs. One
elderly
woman by
this time
was so tired
that she
could hardly
move. Two
men who had
gone through
all the
screening to
get permits
to enable
them to work
in Jerusalem
were turned
back. Their
identity
cards and
permits were
in date and
in order.
They were
travelling
at the
permitted
time. But
they were
not going to
work. They
were each
carrying had
a child who
was sick and
had a
hospital
appointment
in
Jerusalem.
Children
don’t need
permits. A
written
appointment
will
suffice.
But the men
only had
permits to
go to work,
not to take
children to
hospital.
It would
mean another
day off work
to stand in
another long
queue to get
a permit to
allow them
to visit the
hospital.
But first
they’d need
to wait for
another
hospital
appointment.
The rest of
us having
negotiated
the
turnstile
and had our
papers
checked by
the soldier
in the
booth, we
run, if we
are able,
through a
courtyard
with guard
dogs running
towards us
and barking
at us as we
enter
another
wider
corridor and
wait in
another
queue in
order to
enter the
holding bay
which
contains
more
barriers
which force
us to choose
between two
long queues
leading to
metal
detectors.
This area
looks and
feels like
an airport
terminal
except that
there are
security
guards with
guns at the
ready
standing on
platforms
above us
shouting in
Hebrew
through
loudspeakers
that distort
the voice.
Here two
young men
were trying
to stay sane
by joking
with each
other. They
were sent
out to join
the end of
the first
queue for
laughing.
The longest
I’ve waited
in the queue
waiting to
go through
the
turnstile
into the
metal
detector bay
is
twenty-five
minutes, but
some people
claim to
have waited
longer.
Here people
are forced
to take off
their shoes,
jackets,
watches and
belts and
put them in
plastic
trays along
with any
bags or
parcels they
happen to be
carrying.
If the metal
detector
beeps you
have to
remove
something
else until
you can pass
without it
beeping.
People
needing
crutches or
walking
frames have
real
problems
here because
people have
to go
through the
system one
by one so
there is no
one to help
once the
crutch or
frame is on
the conveyor
belt to be
checked.
The people
behind just
have to wait
until the
solders are
convinced
that the
person
needing aids
to walk is
not a
security
risk, and
the soldiers
do this at a
distance
from inside
their bullet
proof
booths,
again
screaming
through
load-speakers.
Once through
this section
the aim is
to quickly
grab all
your things
and run, if
you are
able,
through
another
corridor to
join the
final
queue. It
is waiting
in this
queue that
most people
put on their
shoes, belts
jackets and
watches.
In the final
holding bay
the queues
are usually
shorter
because
there are
twelve
booths to
choose from
but I’ve
only seen
five
working.
Here
identity
cards and
permits are
checked in
more detail
and then
fingerprints
are
checked. In
the two
hours I
stand and
observe in
this section
on average
six people
are sent
home,
usually
without
being told
why. One
morning a 12
year old
boy, his
nine year
old brother,
his sisters
aged 8 and 7
and his six
year old
brother were
all sent
back home at
the final
booth after
waiting
patiently as
good as gold
in order to
pass to go
to school
because the
soldier
considered
the youngest
boy to be
too young to
be of school
age.
Another
morning a
man failed
the
fingerprint
test because
he had a
bandage on
his finger.
Another
morning a
man failed
the
fingerprint
test before
he had even
put his hand
in the
required
place. He
pleaded and
pleaded to
be allowed
to take the
test again
but the
soldier
refused and
told him to
go back
home. It
took two
hours of my
phoning
various help
lines before
a senior
officer was
sent to the
booth to see
that the man
was given a
chance to
have his
fingerprint
checked.
The computer
said he was
OK so
finally he
was allowed
to go to
work. All
the getting
up early,
climbing the
steep hill,
standing in
the cold
being
crushed on
all sides by
smoking men
had been
worthwhile.
Imagine
having to do
this every
single
morning
simply to
get to work
or school.
Yet the
people
generally
remain calm
and polite
and
friendly.
They cannot
understand
why the
world stands
by and lets
them be
treated like
this when
their only
‘sin’ is to
be born in
the same
town as
Jesus. But
these people
are the
lucky ones.
They have
been cleared
by security
police as
being of no
threat to
Israel.
They have
low paid
jobs, mainly
in the
construction
industry.
One of the
biggest
problems for
people in
Bethlehem is
unemployment.
The wall has
strangled
the town’s
economy and
taken 87% of
its land.
Even exports
of communion
wine have
been banned
for security
reasons.
Not all the
checkpoints
are like
checkpoint
300. I’m
told that
some are
even worse.
I went with
my
colleagues
to the
checkpoint
near the
village of
An Nu’man.
Since 1967
Israel has
claimed that
this village
is part of
Jerusalem
not the West
Bank but the
people are
not allowed
Jerusalem
IDs only
West Bank
IDs so they
are
technically
living
illegally in
their own
homes. If
they leave
the village
without the
correct
papers they
may never be
allowed back
home. If
they marry
anyone
outside the
village that
person will
not be
allowed to
live in the
village,
only those
born there.
We escorted
children
coming home
from their
school in
the
neighbouring
village of
Al Khas.
They are
forced to go
through the
checkpoint
twice a day
and are
frequently
harassed by
soldiers
there. I
started
chatting as
best I could
with my
limited
Arabic to
two boys
aged 16 and
10 who
needed to
get through
the
checkpoint
to collect
some sheep
from a
neighbouring
village.
They were
denied
permission
to cross. I
spoke to the
soldier,
escorted the
boys through
the
checkpoint,
waited while
the sheep
were
delivered
then
escorted the
boys back
through the
checkpoint
together
with the
sheep.
Fortunately
the soldier
did not
insist that
the sheep go
through the
metal
detector
only the
humans.
I’ll leave
you with
some quotes
from people
who have
spoken to me
inside
checkpoint
300.
Different
security
guards on
five
occasions
shouted,
“What are
you doing
here? Go
home.” But
the response
from the
Palestinian
people is
quite
different.
“When you
are here
there is no
problem,
when you are
not there
is.”
“Welcome,
welcome, you
are most
welcome.
Thank you
for being
here. Tell
the world
how we are
treated.
Get them to
do something
to help
us.”
Please pray
for the
people in
the Israeli
occupied
Palestinian
territories.
Pray for the
Palestinians
that they
may not turn
to violence
as a way to
get justice
for their
people.
Pray also
for the
Israeli
Soldiers who
have only
been trained
to deal with
enemies and
do not know
how to
behave
towards
people who
refuse to be
their
enemies.
And pray for
the people
working to
bring peace
in the land
that once
was called
holy. |
