We left
the Dheisheh Refugee Camp on the outskirts of Bethlehem on Tuesday.
We traveled to Beit Sahour which happens to also be a suburb of
Bethlehem. We went there to meet up with a new set of activist.
The reason was 2-fold : First to get some people to stay in the
one of the Palestinian homes we had just left (the home was under
demolition orders from the Israeli Army) and second to possibly
get a few new activist to join our affinity group (which lost
members because one went home and another was going to be doing
other work).
After
a long series of discussions we divided up and we came to the
decision that Chris, myself (Carl) and Susanne would go to Qalqilya(pronounced
"Qual - Kill - E - ahh), Palestine. A small team of activists
have been based in Qalqilya doing a lot of work around checkpoint
monitoring and accompaning Palestine Red Crescent Society ambulances.
To get
to Qalqilya we had to go to Jerusalem (and through a checkpoint),
then to Nablus, and finally to the checkpoint outside of Qalqilya.
Qalqilya is basically under a sort of silent siege. It is very
difficult to get in or out, and impossible unless you have the
proper paperwork and identity card. All this for a town of about
35,000 people. We had a story fabricated to get into Qalqilya
and what we were going to be doing. The Israeli Army wouldn't
appreciated us telling them that we were coming to Qalqilya to
monitor the treatment of Palestinians at this very checkpoint.
Anyway, we made it in, but others international activists have
had to sneak around the checkpoint which it a quite dangerous
adventure.
Once
in Qalqilya we met with local NGOs and the Palestine Red Crescent
Society (PRCS, which is affiliated with the International Committee
of the Red Cross and runs an ambulance service for Qalqilya and
the surrounding villages and towns). We also met the international=
activists that have been working in Qalqilya for some time (Garrick,
Susan, Eli, Dave, Ester and Laura). We found out that they work
their asses of too.
Basically,
they have 2 or 3 people on duty at the PRCS for ambulance accompaniment
24 hours a day (which is divided into 3 shifts). In addition to
that they also have 3, 4 or more people on duty at the checkpoint
from 8 AM to 4 PM to monitor the Israeli army's treatment of the
local Palestinians and the assist Palestinians in trying to pass
through the checkpoint. We you do a bit of quick math you'll find
out that this crew sometimes works 18 hour a day! All this in
90+ degree heat.
We (Carl,
Chris and Susanne) were quite inspired by this sturdy group of
activists and were eager to join in with them. After a good night's
sleep of course. We slept the sleep of the dead that night, except
for when we did a call-in to a group of activists in Boston to
talk about our work with the International Solidarity Movement
and out experiences in Palestine.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
We awoke
in the morning and had several actions planned for the day, the
long day. Chris was to visit some local schools and a summer camp.
The school was for the children of victims of Israeli attacks,
there were scores and scores of kids at the school.
Carl
was on checkpoint duty, pulling a double-shift from 8 - 11 am
and from 2 to 4 pm. It is astonishing to watch the Israeli military
at work. The face of the Israeli army is that of an 18 year old
kid with wrap around mirrored sunglasses. In this specific case
the image was completed with a fading hickey on the neck, which
seemed to punctuate the boy's youth nicely. The soldiers would
shout at the waiting Palestinians to line up this way or that
way, back here or over there in an almost laughable manner. Periodically
pointing an M-16 machine gun (US made and paid for in case you
were wondering) at a middle aged woman or more likely a teenaged
boy. We had brought about 6 1.5 liter bottles of water with us
to share with the Palestinians waiting in the scorching sun. We
were emptied out of water ("Mayy" in Arabic) in about
2 hours. A tom-boyish girl, about 8 or 9 years old, still seemed
thirsty. While she was trying to communicate with us, one of the
Army boy's came by to push the Palestinians back, seemingly where
we were standing was no longer acceptable even though we had been
there for about an hour. When the soldier approached the girl
looked at him in a way that can only be described as sternly and
said "Mayy!". I was baffled. So was the soldier. The
girl repeated her demand "Biddi mayya!" ("I want
water!" in Arabic). The soldier had wandered back to his
cement block station at this point. He still seemed astonished
at the girl's request but there was a bottle of water standing
on the cement block between him and the girl. A bit of a staring
contest ensued. The girl grasped the neck of the bottle of water
but didn't move it. The staring continued. She seemed to be non-verbally
saying, "I am going to take this water for me and my family,
is that OK? And you are not really allowed to say 'no'".
They she just took the bottle spun on her heal and walked off
to her family. She chugged about a cup full before handing it
to her younger sister. The family finished the bottle and the
girl marched back to the cement block to politely return the empty
bottle.
Astonishing.
About half an hour later she asked the same soldier for more water.
He seemed resigned to the fact that this girl was going to get
her way and promptly produced a canteen from inside of him uniform.
I
love kids!
Thursday,
August 15, 2002
Meanwhile
back at the 'ranch', Chris was on overnight ambulance duty (early
Thursday morning). He was sleeping at the headquarters of the
Palestine Red Crescent Society when a call came in to pick up
a pregnant woman about to go into labor in the neighboring village
of Azzun at around 5am. Chris headed out with on of the PRCS rivers
Munthir and another paramedic in the back. It took the soldiers
at the Qalqilya checkpoint about 7 minutes to even come out to
the ambulance. A clarifying note here, it is against the Geneva
Conventions to impede ambulance traffic in any situation. However
the PRCS drivers know that they would be shot at if the even attempted
to drive through the checkpoint without submitting to the Israeli
military. The soldiers told all of the occupants of the ambulance
to get out. For better or worse they did not think Chris was a
foreigner. They probably thought that he was a Palestinian. Everyone
was told to lift their shirts to see if they had any explosives
belts on. This whole exercise took 10 minutes. It was raining
that night which is bizzare weather for this time of year. This
didn't deter Munthir, the driver. About 5 minutes later they pulled
up to the checkpoint outside of Azzun. The family had a car but
the Israeli military would not allow them to drive out of Azzun
to the UN hospital in Qalqilya.
The woman
and her husband were loaded into the ambulance and they took
off. The woman was screaming from her labor pains.
Chris
smelled the woman's water breaking, Munthir drove faster in the
rain. He pulled over for a second just outside of Qalqilya thinking
they would have to deliver there but the continued on to the Qalqilya
checkpoint. Again the soldiers took more than 5 minutes to even
show
up. This time they did not take quite as long in searching the
ambulance, however they did take just long enough that the baby's
head
came out and the delivery was starting. Munthir told the soldiers
that
he would have to deliver right here outside of the checkpoint
gate. The
soldiers, who seemed to be of North African or Druze backgrounds
looked
very similar to Chris. The soldier told Munthir that he could
not stop
here but would have to continue through the checkpoint. He drove
through the gate about 10 feet past, stopped and went in the back
to
assist in the delivery.
It was
a quick delivery. 14 minutes later Munthir was driving to
the UN hospital and we had a baby boy in the back, with his mother
and
father. There is a kind of running joke in Palestine that lots
of
children are named Mahsoom, which means "checkpoint"
in Arabic.
Arriving
at the UN hospital at 5:37 am, Chris waited outside while the
Munthir and the paramedic took the woman and child in to the hospital.
Interestingly, a couple of guys outside the hospital greeted Chris
with
several phrases in Arabic, presumably believing him to be Palestinian.
Chris
finished his shift at 8 AM and promptly went to sleep. Carl
started
another day of duty at the checkpoint, again having volunteered
for a
double
shift. The first shift team was Carl, Susanne and Jennie and they
were
armed
with 9 bottles of water, a digital video camera and a notebook.
When
the team
arrived at the checkpoint there was moderate activity. About 30
- 40
people
waiting in the morning sun. The group waiting included men, women,
children and
more that a few infants. The Israeli army institutes random policies
at
the
checkpoints. Many times not allowing residents of a town to leave
that
town, only
letting people who are in Qalqilya from somewhere else to go home,
this
is further
complicated by the point that usually you cannot get INTO Qalqilya
unless you are
from Qalqilya. If you are confused at this point you are beginning
to
understand.
Palestinians get in line as early as possible to try to cross
the
checkpoint before the
rules change.
One of
the other astonishing things that happens at checkpoints is that
the Israeli
military impounds horses, donkeys and their carts. There seems
to be no
possible explanation for
this. They take the carts away and leave them next to the checkpoint
tents housing the
officers. If the army thought there was some kind of bomb threat
they
certainly wouldn't
leave the carts there. One man, Lutvie, that we met had been at
the
checkpoint all day everyday
for most of the past week. He was trying to get his cart back,
since it
was an integral part
of his livelihood. He and his son approached us and if we could
help
him. We told him that we could.
Throughout the day we had approched the army to request they let
people
thought the checkpoint for
various reason, a mother needed to visit an ailing child, a father
needed to return to his family after
a week of work in Qalqilya and the like. We told Lutvie that we
needed
to wait a bit before
asking the army for any more 'favors'. He agreed. At about 10:30
AM
Carl and Lutvie approached
on of the soldiers and asked if they could speak to the captain
about
the cart and horse situation.
The soldier was hesitant but when pressured he allowed us to pass
and
approach the commander's tent.
Outside the tent a young soldier asked, in a mish-mash of Hebrew
and
Arabic what Carl and Lutvie
wanted. Carl asked if he spoke English.
"Yes,
I speak English" was the reply.
"My name is Carl and I am an American citizen, this man's
name is Lutvie and his horse and cart have been taken. Is there
someone we could talk to about getting them back?"
"Yes."
"Ummm, who?"
"Me."
"OK, can we have the horse and cart?"
"Yes, not now, come back, 6."
"At 6 o'clock?"
"Yes."
"To whom should we speak at 6?"
"To me."
"O, OK, and what is your name?"
[Long pause]
"Doesn't matter, speak me at 6."
"OK, thank you."
Lutvie
and Carl were annoyed and pleased at the same time. This was the
first direct answer
Lutvie had in three days regarding the horse and cart. But the
arbitrariness of waiting until
6 PM was difficult to be happy about. Carl told Lutvie that he
would
certainly be at the checkpoint
at 6 to try again.
After
finishing the first shift Carl, Jennie and Susanne went home for
a bit of a rest.
The second
shift (from 2 - 4 usually, but due to circumstances this one
would stretch to past 6)
team was made up of Carl, Chris and Jennie. The soldiers were
up to
their usually pushing people
around (they seem to always make a point of pushing people, sometimes
with their M-16s).
The day
seemed to drag on. We made a few interventions on behalf of
people who asked for our help,
provided water to people (and even to a horse!). And generally
waited
for 6 PM to roll around.
At about 5 PM Lutvie returned to the checkpoint (he had gone home
earlier in the day).
We waited until a lot of the people and trucks were out of the
way and
they approached the
soldier at the gate. We told him we had horse and cart related
business
at the commander's tent
and could we be allowed through to discuss the matter. "No"
was the
answer. In situation like this
we kind of learned to use the Jedi mind trick with the younger
Israeli
draftees.
"I
am an American and I am going to talk to someone at the
commander's tent."
"Oh."
"Is that OK?"
"Umm, oh, OK."
At the
commander's tent the same young soldier was at the lounging on
a
pile of sandbags
(he looked turtle-ish at about 5-foot-2 and with his olive drab
uniform, battle helmet, battle flak jacket, and
vest pouches loaded with sound grenades, half a dozen extra clips
of
ammunition and an M-16 slung
around his neck). I asked about the horse and cart. To my astonishment
he just pointed to an
area behind the tent. Lutvie and I briskly skipped around the
tent
worrying that the
decisions like this one can and very often are revoked at the
slightest
whim. I turned the
corner to see about 25 battered carts.
Hmmm,
"Terrorist donkey carts ... for terrorist donkeys, no doubt."
I would
have laughed at the thought if it were not for the fact that
something
like this thought was probably their reason the Israeli military
first
impounded the
dozens of carts (and does so regularly and continually I have
been
told).
Lutvie and I grabbed the cart. I was in the donkey-position, that
is I
grabbed the
poles in the front that would normally be tied to the animal.
We
navigated the cart out
of its parking spot and onto the road as we approached the soldiers
at
the checkpoint
about a half dozen men were shouting and running about. I thought
they
were happy to
finally see Lutvie get his cart. Not exactly. They had impounded
carts
and wanted them
back too. That is the problem with justice when people see tiny
bits of
it, everybody wants
some. Hard to argue with thought. So I left Lutvie to his horse-less
(and Carl-less at this
point) to re-request cart releases from the military. Seemingly
an
order had been made to allow all the
carts to be released. About 6 people some men and some pre-teenaged
children where
grabbing carts and wheeling them out. Then the rule changed. "No
carts
out", quickly became the
unspoken order. How or why was anyone guess. One can imagine that
the
Israeli commanders
getting an encoded radio message from Shin Beit (Israel's Secret
Service) at the crucial moment:
"Islamic
Jihad amassing donkey carts... stop ...
North West Judea ... stop ...
Dangerous situation ... stop ...
Israel's existence at risk ... stop ...
disallow movement of said carts ... stop ...
immediate and urgent ... stop ..."
Anyway,
including Lutvie's cart, 3 were released. I was beaming with
pride. Three people
had their card back. Granted they had no animals to go with the
carts
and they should have
never been taken in the first place. Further the very existence
of the
checkpoint is
an injustice, but the minor victory of the free carts was overwhelming.
I kind of came to
a tiny understanding. When asked about the military occupation
Palestinians will invariably
say "What can we do?"
Insha'
Allah -- it is God's Will.
People
here feel helpless and any miniscule victory or resistance to
the Israeli occupation
is a gift from God. I, in my agnosticism, felt the same way.
Today,
together, we freed the carts.
Tomorrow, together, we free Palestine.
For information on how you can work for a free Palestine check:
http://www.israel-divest.org/
and http://www.freepalestinecampaign.org/
Carl and Chris Williams
(Phone-less in Amman, Jordan in transit to the USA)
