Anata-Shuafat, Issawiya

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Place: 
'Anata-Shu'afat
Observers: 
Rahel M., Michaela R. (reporting)
Oct-29-2015
|
Morning
 
 

In general:  Another difficult morning. The soldiers and border police believe with all their hearts that they are toiling on behalf of security.  But the impression is all of cruel collective punishment, spreading hatred and frustration.  We all know where this is leading.
 

Issawiya, near French Hill
 

When we arrived, an orderly row of men arranged itself on one side of the concrete blocks and waited.  On the other side, children, women and the elderly crossed without inspection.  The younger people displayed ID's and continued on their way. It seems the soldiers were bored and tired of this activity, and later almost anyone who arrived was allowed to cross without inspection.
 

Again the heart aches at the sight of an older sick man, who has difficulty climbing up the steep road, assisted on either side by young men.
 

Issawiya, the gas station on the old road to Ma'aleh Adumim
 

Concrete blocks prevent the passage of all vehicles, but pedestrians cross without inspection.  The vehicles cross through the nearby lot, after inspection.  We could not make out who was allowed and who forbidden to cross.
 

One of the border-policemen talked to us. He was offended by the suggestion that there was an abuse of human rights, saying that he greets with a "good morning" every newcomer who looks reasonable.  And occupation? Well, according to him, all the world's states are occupied....
 

Issawiya, opposite 'Adumim Fortress'
 

This is the only exit for vehicles from Issawiya -- only one lane for entry and exit. Most of those entering are not checked, and an effort is made to prevent jamming of the main road.  Those leaving are checked slowly, those checking are in no hurry to go anywhere.  It was hard to estimate the length of the traffic jam.
 

We parked on the left, near another block on a dirt road leading to a car-wash place. The men inspecting left their post and came to send us away, saying politely that we were in the way.  We insisted on being told whose way, and why.  When we asked to park our car near the dumpster, we were refused because there were "no parking" marks (red and white)  on the pave-stones.  We remained where we were, and tried not to laugh too much.
 

Shuafat checkpoint

A horror

 

We arrived towards the end of the children's transportation which appeared to have been orderly.  Despite the relatively late hour -- close to 8 -- we met an enormous traffic jam of cars trying to leave the neighbourhood. From time to time there was prolonged honking from the drivers.
 
The main problem was pedestrian crossing.  It took us an entire hour to cross. People were crushed against each other in the dense crowd, men and women together, mothers with infants in their arms, children of all ages.  There is no humanitarian crossing -- every effort seems to be put into making the crossing a horror.  At the turnstile people cross one by one, although there are 3 windows and 4 soldiers -- still, they have to cross one by one.  They place their belongings on the x-ray machine which is not working, pass the magnometer  and present documents, and the process is slow.  Only then does the turnstile open again. 
 
Despite the suffocating crush, the atmosphere was relaxed, people laughed together.  The ammunition of Palestinian humour  has not not been defeated by occupation.  One said that this is the new Hawarrah, another that their dignity has been confiscated.
 
While waiting, a strong explosion was heard.  We couldn't see what had happened, but a few minutes later we saw 3 soldiers entering the checkpoint from the direction of the camp, one of them proudly carrying an implement for shooting grenades. Perhaps there was a connection between the events.