Exit Denied: An Escalation in the Campaign of Ethnic Cleansing

by Noura Khouri, January 26th

At around 12:30 am this morning I was heading back to Bethlehem, by myself, from Ramallah so as to avoid the early morning delay at the dreaded Qalandia terminal. At night there are very few cars, so I thought I’d take advantage and avoid the waiting and anxiousness to cross such a barrier causes. On some level, everyone must confront the mental and emotional anguish brought on by such confrontations.

At this time, I was driving confidently towards my destination, armed with my American passport and newly issued visa in hand. I was prepared for the journey.

Or so I thought.

I pulled up to the first gate, where they rarely check ID’s since this is the first passage, the further scrutinizing is normally done at the following point.

Regardless, I held up my passport, as I always do to show the soldier my precious piece of blue laminated cardboard and paper. Then, instead of the regular nod of the head and lifting of the gate, came the sanctimonious voices from above, in Hebrew, from the loud speakers. I looked more closely to see what was going on, but through the bullet-proof windows, gates and darkness of the night, all I could see were the heels of shoes kicked up, and the burning butt of a cigarette being smugly smoked.

I asked the soldier what was going on, and what the problem was. He replied in his perfect British accent, “Just because you wave around your American passport, you think you can get through here?!”

Yes, of course I do. That is how it is supposed to work!

After about a five minute standoff an exercise in patience and breathing techniques, I asked in the calmest voice I could, what his name was. He told me, “Daniel”. I asked Daniel if I had done something wrong. He repeated the bit about waving around my American passport.

My responses clearly did not satisfy him, and I am not sure anything I said would have. So I began on – about occupation, and collective punishment. As the queue was growing quite long behind me at this point, I asked if he was holding us here for security. Then his African counterpart chimed in. She said, “yes, they are all terrorists!” in the only English words I heard her utter. Then I asked them if they had ever heard of international law. Daniel asserted, “Here, this is my law”.

Then he spoke into his walkie-talkie, and let me though.

Immediately as I pulled forward, there were three soldiers lined up in a military formation. When I pulled up in front of them, the female soldier, who later told me her name was “Suzanne”, yelled at me in Hebrew to reverse, and go back. After doing so, she went on to attempt to intimidate me with her mean looking snarls, and loud voice. When she asked, I showed her inside my trunk, to prove that I do not have a bomb. It was then that she told me to empty the contents onto the ground…that is when I told her that I would not empty the books that I had in there, and she got really angry. So I told her if she wanted my books on the ground, she would have to put them there, as I would absolutely not.

This did not satisfy her insatiable appetite for meanness and oppression, so then she began mocking me, making fun of my name and told me that I was not allowed to pass through the checkpoint, and I must return to Ramallah — as she threw my passport at me.

If one feels the slightest bit of indignation and sense of injustice by stories of such ongoing and clear ABUSES OF POWER, and the suffering that is caused by the checkpoints, it is not even possible to begin to imagine the feelings of rage, degradation and trauma one is left with after such first hand experiences. And the treatment I received was just the tip of the iceberg.

Apparently, it is not even certain that these were soldiers. Similar to the like in Iraq, OCHA recently announced that “Private Security Companies (SC)” had taken over the manning of this checkpoint – and that others will be soon to follow suite. These private contractors are illegal according to international law, because they are accountable to no one!

Watching as these armed thugs behaved with me, with complete immunity, I am afraid to see how they treat the more vulnerable among us. These soldiers, or whoever they are, are now making up their own laws and rules. They no longer even have to uphold a pretense of a chain of command, army rules to follow or respect for international law.

And yet, this is just the beginning of the IDF’s stepped up attack on travel and freedom of movement, and intimidation in the West Bank. The IDF has recently announced that the permit system which makes it impossible to travel to Gaza, which gives Israel ‘carte blanche’ to impose its deadly policies, will become the norm in the West Bank. Thus, it is clear that Israel is stepping up its planned campaign to create Qalandia as this international border of entry into the Palestinian islands of prisons. Accountable to no standards of law itself, the IDF unabashedly admitted that the 44 roadblocks they supposedly ‘eased restrictions’ of, never even existed!

Simultaneously they are working 24-hours a day, 365 days a year, to expand the existing settlements for the likes of immigrants such as Suzanne and Daniel who are taking their cues from the Israeli government, who, in turn, are in the process of completing 24 tunnels for Palestinians to drive underground in – which will connect this prison of Palestinian islands – and cement the 56 settler-only roads above ground, for Jews only to travel on!

While Palestinians hope for a political solution to ease the sheer insanity that Israel has imposed on them, creating every possible misery in their lives; it is the Israeli government’s hope and future vision to bring Gaza to the West Bank. We can not possibly begin to imagine what this will mean on every insidious level.

The map is drawn. The underground tunnels for the Palestinians are being dug. The settler-only roads are already in place. All they need to do now is connect the dots – that will be our dear Palestine. It is just a matter of time.

Occupation Police Benevolence in the Jordan Valley

by Peter, January 25th

Recently, I was able to accompany three Palestinians on a drive through the Jordan Valley. The more scenic aspects aside, a trip through the area revealed the slow, destructive siege of the Valley.

Movement restrictions have effectively sealed off the Jordan Valley from the rest of the West Bank. For example, the north of the Jordan Valley in the Tubas region (a two hour drive at minimum from Ramallah) should be 15 minutes from Nablus. However, the Occupation has restricted Palestinian access to this area to those registered in the villages of the Valley; to reach the northern West Bank from the north of the Valley without Jordan Valley ID one must travel down to Ramallah before heading north. This effectively makes what should be a short trip into a day of driving, 8 hours being a conservative estimate, accompanied by an equivalent rise in the cost of petrol. To put things in a more concrete perspective, our own trip from Ramallah to the north of the Valley and back cost around NIS 150 in petrol.

Additionally, harassment of Palestinians at the hands of soldiers and police occurs on a regular basis. “Heightened surveillance” signs mark much of the highway running from Jericho to the the north. Palestinians will be pulled over for driving too quickly (or too slowly) and detained under a number of pretexts. Not only does this further restrict movement, but also it often proves to be very expensive. On our drive, we were pulled over by Occupation police. After being detained for a half hour, we were issued a fine of NIS 250 for not “driving quietly” and failing to wear seatbelts. The driver of our vehicle informed the police that we were in fact all wearing our seatbelts (“driving quietly” is a bit harder to contest, as it makes little logical sense), but this complaint was ignored. Instead, the police informed us that they were in fact exercising restraint; in their benevolence they had only fined us NIS 250 as opposed to a more drastic fine of NIS 1000.

Thus, a day drive into the Jordan Valley cost NIS 400. Compare this with the average income of a family in the valley (NIS 1000 per month), and it should become quite clear that movement is financially impossible for most of the Palestinians trapped in the valley.

“They’re the army. They’re always right”

by Yifat Appelbaum, January 24th

A. made some fried squash tonight at the office. He looked a little more serious than he usually looks. As we were eating, he told me a story.

“Today I was at Qalandia,” he started, “Some army jeeps started going down the road towards Ramallah. And there were some kids.”

(pause)(nod) Ok, I think I know where this is heading..

He continued, “And they started throwing rocks.”

(pause) Yeah I know how this is going to end up and I’m starting to get that sick feeling in my stomach.

“And the soldiers fired one shot.”

(pause)

“It hit them?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was really close, from 5 meters, and live ammo. And then the jeep drove away. I wish I knew who to call to find out if he’s ok, if he’s still alive.”

“Dude that sucks.” was all I could think of to say.

long pause… all kinds of stuff running through my head.. was this the first person he saw get shot ? Of course not. He’s been shot himself, at least three times I think. He’s Palestinian. He’s from
Jenin for christ sakes. Ok, I’ll try not ask any dumb questions.

“How many people have you seen get shot ?” Wait, that’s a dumb question, I bet he’s lost count.

“Well the worst was this time in Jenin. Some kids were let out of school, and some soldiers invaded and occupied a house near the school. I was in Tulkarem at the time and my friend called and said there was a problem so I hurried back.”

“There were some kids throwing rocks. A soldier shot my brother’s friend twice in the stomach. Then he tried to escape, and the soldier got out of the jeep and finished him off. Right there in front of me. He was 15.”

“In the newspaper they said he was carrying a bomb and that’s why they shot him.”

(long pause) Don’t ask him for details.

“Can’t anyone say anything to argue with the army about that ?” I ask. Shit that was a dumb question.

“They’re the army,” he said “They’re always right. You can’t argue with them. They do whatever they want. If they go into Nablus and kill a couple fighters and some kids too, they’ll say they only killed fighters.”

I’ve been here a year now and I still naively think there there is some semblance of justice here. I am so wrong.

A trip to the post office…

by Lucretia Reflection,

Yesterday I had to take some things to be mailed at the post office in Jerusalem and had conservatively estimated 4 hours for the trip. Oops, silly me !

When I first came to Palestine a year ago, the trip from Ramallah to Jerusalem took about 20 minutes. Fast forward one year of additional checkpoints and Israeli paranoia and you have a trip that most people expect to take an hour.

Being somewhat uninformed about my status as new Israeli citizen living in the West Bank and confusion about what nationality I should present myself as at which checkpoint, (it’s illegal for me to be in certain places in the West Bank including Ramallah) I showed the soldiers at Qalandia checkpoint my Israeli ID instead of my American passport. Instead of giving it back and waving me through, they took off with it and told me to get out of the car. I followed a soldier around asking for my ID back. She spoke to me in Hebrew despite my telling her I don’t speak Hebrew. Another soldier asked me what I was doing in Ramallah.

“Just visiting friends,” I replied.

“You live in Jerusalem ?” the soldier asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

Thinking I was probably about to be arrested, for being Israeli and being in a prohibited area, I started making phone calls.

“Turn your phone off and give me the battery !” the soldier barked at me.

“Um, no,” I replied.

“ARE YOU SAYING NO TO ME ?” The soldier screamed.

(silly soldier, I may be a new Israeli citizen but I’ve had enough dealings with your people to know what your intimidation tactics are.)

“Yes, I am telling you no. If you want my phone or battery, you’ll have to call the police.” I replied.

“Ok we will call the police and they will arrest you.”

(now it’s time for my all time favorite line)

“Ok, arrest me, I like being arrested !”

“How long have you been in Israel ?” the soldier asked

(well I haven’t really been in Israel, I’ve been in Palestine but we’ll save that debate for some other day)

“It’s none of your business,” I told the soldier.

After being detained for about 10 minutes, a soldier gave me my ID back and sent me on my way.

(my favorite line works every time !)

After passing through Qalandia checkpoint, there were an additional two flying checkpoints we had to go through. A flying checkpoint is a temporary checkpoint, arbitrarily set up by the IOF in random places.

At the first flying checkpoint, the soldier came into the bus and visually checked everyone’s ID. At the second one, the soldier collected everyone’s ID and manually checked them by calling the ID numbers into the DCO (the District Coordination Office – the Civil Administration wing of the Israeli military in the West Bank). This is to check and see if anyone is ‘wanted’. This took about 20 minutes.

I was dozing in and out of sleep when the soldier came back onto the bus to return the IDs. A Palestinian woman sitting next to me asked me “Where are you from, Canada ?”

“No, the US.” I replied.

“Well now you get to see a small example of the suffering we face in Palestine.” She told me with a sad smile.

(if you only knew, heh..)

As a result of the flying checkpoints, I arrived in Jerusalem 10 minutes after the post office closed and an hour and a half after I’d gotten on the bus in Ramallah. Rather than go back and face the same thing the next day, I decided to stay the night in Jerusalem and go to the post office the following morning.

I visited my friend Yuval and his girlfriend Yael in west Jerusalem where he gave me a quick refresher course on what my rights are as an Israeli in terms of dealing with soldiers. Then I went to the Ethiopean restaurtant on Jaffa road near the Old City where an Israeli guy began chatting me up.

“Where do you live ?” he asked.

“In Ramallah. ” I answered.

(look of shock) “Aren’t you scared ?” he said, laughing.

(Compared to Hebron, the last place I lived, Ramallah ain’t no thang ! There are no soldiers in Ramallah except for when they invade, there are no settlers either. I walk around late at night
alone and have never had a problem. Somehow I always manage to be in Hebron every time there is a clash between Hamas and Fateh or when the IOF has invaded Ramallah. But this answer is far too long for this situation.)

“No, what’s there to be scared of ?” I asked.

He shrugged and then told his friend I live in Ramallah and they both had a chuckle.

The restaurant owner said “She comes all the way from Ramallah just to eat here !”

The next day I went to the post office and returned to Ramallah at about noon. So that was a long trip to the post office..

I’m eligible for free Hebrew classes in Jerusalem, but living in Ramallah I know I will frequently be late if I don’t budget an hour and a half for the car ride. This doesn’t even include the time it
takes to walk from my house to the cars or the walk to the school in Jerusalem. So I guess I’ll just focus on getting better at Arabic for now.