The checkpoints in Palestine are there to make life next to
impossible. They are not a security measure. Anyone
here will tell you this, and it's easy to find out for
yourself...
impossible. They are not a security measure. Anyone
here will tell you this, and it's easy to find out for
yourself...
Checkpoint – What's the point?
Last time I went to Jerusalem from Bethlehem, a few Palestinians who
are permitted to go to Jerusalem were queuing at the
checkpoint. We finally walked through, and approached
the bus stop. On the other side around a corner, a
soldier called to us to come over and, once again,
show some ID. He had detained around twelve men, all
whom had passed legally through the checkpoint (many
travel around them). His 'orders' were to harass us
further, for no reason other than making life more
difficult.
The checkpoints are there to make life next to
impossible. They are not a security measure. Anyone
here will tell you this, and it's easy to find out for
yourself.
When I went to Jenin last month, I was barred from
entering the region because I was an international.
This was a turn around, I thought, as the Palestinians
looked at me with pity because I had to get off their
minibus to Jenin; usually it's the other way around.
The soldiers told me internationals had been causing
trouble in the region (i.e. the ISM had been
witnessing the continued bloodshed in Nablus).
"Only Palestinians" were allowed through, he told me.
Odd, I thought, seeing as neither he nor his soldier
friends were Palestinian. The ISM had clearly been
doing some good work, if they were not permitted to go
into the region any more.
He also said; "maybe there are other roads you can
take." He meant that I would have to illegally go
around the checkpoint to get through. They were
probably amused by my attempts to hide from them as I
rambled through farmland on a hill surrounding the
military road block. They know it and I know it –
anyone can travel around here, but it's the hassle,
the humiliation, the difficulty involved.
My journey took seven hours, when it should have taken
a little over one.
Taking the piss
The Israeli newspaper Maariv reports of a Palestinian
who was stopped at a checkpoint on the way to
Jerusalem and forced to choose between having an arm
broken, a leg broken, or to drink the urine of the
soldiers who kept him. Sameeh, 24, was forced to drink
the ready-prepared bottle, and subsequently required
hospital treatment on his stomach.
In July 2004, the same newspaper reported that Israeli
'Defence' Ministry figures revealed that for the first
time suicides in the army had surpassed the number of
combat casualties. Whilst 31 were killed in military
operations in 2003, the number of Israeli soldiers who
had taken their own lives in the same period was 48.
This figure is staggering, for any military
organization. But considering the testimonies of
soldiers (like the ones who set up a photo-exhibition
of their humiliating practices in Hebron, which was
subsequently shut down) or the evident dehumanisation
of the soldiers who forced Sameeh to drink their piss,
these figures are less surprising.
The defiant will to live
After meeting Israelis in Jerusalem who were preparing
to refuse military service, I have nothing but
admiration for the minority who stand up to be counted
– who refuse to surrender their dignity and humanity
to a military machine bent on using their very lives
for its own purposes. They will most likely be
estranged from their families and Israeli society will
turn their back on them.
It is this humility and bravery which keeps people
going in Palestine, and which keeps me here too. I am
surrounded by people who are constantly resisting and
making sacrifices. When I finally arrived at a village
just outside Jenin, I joined a barbeque which had been
arranged for an extended family who were desperate for
their children to see the countryside and enjoy a day
free from the daily misery of occupation.
They sang and clapped as we drove back to the
partially destroyed home next to Jenin refugee camp
(it has been shelled and occupied by the Israeli
military countless times). Even going out to enjoy
yourself in Palestine is a display of courage,
resistance, and determination to live.
As ever, Occupied Palestine is a terrible place to
witness, yet inspiring to experience the continued
resilience of the people here.
Last time I went to Jerusalem from Bethlehem, a few Palestinians who
are permitted to go to Jerusalem were queuing at the
checkpoint. We finally walked through, and approached
the bus stop. On the other side around a corner, a
soldier called to us to come over and, once again,
show some ID. He had detained around twelve men, all
whom had passed legally through the checkpoint (many
travel around them). His 'orders' were to harass us
further, for no reason other than making life more
difficult.
The checkpoints are there to make life next to
impossible. They are not a security measure. Anyone
here will tell you this, and it's easy to find out for
yourself.
When I went to Jenin last month, I was barred from
entering the region because I was an international.
This was a turn around, I thought, as the Palestinians
looked at me with pity because I had to get off their
minibus to Jenin; usually it's the other way around.
The soldiers told me internationals had been causing
trouble in the region (i.e. the ISM had been
witnessing the continued bloodshed in Nablus).
"Only Palestinians" were allowed through, he told me.
Odd, I thought, seeing as neither he nor his soldier
friends were Palestinian. The ISM had clearly been
doing some good work, if they were not permitted to go
into the region any more.
He also said; "maybe there are other roads you can
take." He meant that I would have to illegally go
around the checkpoint to get through. They were
probably amused by my attempts to hide from them as I
rambled through farmland on a hill surrounding the
military road block. They know it and I know it –
anyone can travel around here, but it's the hassle,
the humiliation, the difficulty involved.
My journey took seven hours, when it should have taken
a little over one.
Taking the piss
The Israeli newspaper Maariv reports of a Palestinian
who was stopped at a checkpoint on the way to
Jerusalem and forced to choose between having an arm
broken, a leg broken, or to drink the urine of the
soldiers who kept him. Sameeh, 24, was forced to drink
the ready-prepared bottle, and subsequently required
hospital treatment on his stomach.
In July 2004, the same newspaper reported that Israeli
'Defence' Ministry figures revealed that for the first
time suicides in the army had surpassed the number of
combat casualties. Whilst 31 were killed in military
operations in 2003, the number of Israeli soldiers who
had taken their own lives in the same period was 48.
This figure is staggering, for any military
organization. But considering the testimonies of
soldiers (like the ones who set up a photo-exhibition
of their humiliating practices in Hebron, which was
subsequently shut down) or the evident dehumanisation
of the soldiers who forced Sameeh to drink their piss,
these figures are less surprising.
The defiant will to live
After meeting Israelis in Jerusalem who were preparing
to refuse military service, I have nothing but
admiration for the minority who stand up to be counted
– who refuse to surrender their dignity and humanity
to a military machine bent on using their very lives
for its own purposes. They will most likely be
estranged from their families and Israeli society will
turn their back on them.
It is this humility and bravery which keeps people
going in Palestine, and which keeps me here too. I am
surrounded by people who are constantly resisting and
making sacrifices. When I finally arrived at a village
just outside Jenin, I joined a barbeque which had been
arranged for an extended family who were desperate for
their children to see the countryside and enjoy a day
free from the daily misery of occupation.
They sang and clapped as we drove back to the
partially destroyed home next to Jenin refugee camp
(it has been shelled and occupied by the Israeli
military countless times). Even going out to enjoy
yourself in Palestine is a display of courage,
resistance, and determination to live.
As ever, Occupied Palestine is a terrible place to
witness, yet inspiring to experience the continued
resilience of the people here.
