Qalqiliya, Mon Amour

Tags

Alfei Menashe, Elkana, Judea and Samaria, Machsom Watch, Nebi Elias

 

 

 

I wanted to see for myself. Day and night we are bombarded with news, views and opinions about what is happening in the ‘Territories,’ whether defined as ‘occupied’ or by their ancient geographical designation, ‘Judea and Samaria.’ So a few weeks ago, when things seemed relatively quiet, I joined a tour of the area around Qalqiliya and Alfei Menashe that was organized by Machsom Watch.

Showing us where we were on the map that had been distributed, Daniela, our English-speaking guide, escorted our group, consisting of both Israelis and tourists, along the highways and byways of the region. Although I had been warned by well-meaning relatives that the route might be dangerous (and was told not to sit next to a window in the bus), at no time in the several hours that we drove to and through villages and towns did we feel that we were in any danger. In fact, in the village of Hawara, where we stopped to buy falafel, we mingled with the local population and did not seem to arouse anyone’s resentment or even attention.

One of the purposes of the tour was to see how the division of the region into areas A (Palestinian controlled), B (both Palestinian and Israeli controlled) and C (Israeli-controlled) works on the ground. The essential point here is that moving from one area to the other is a simple matter for Israelis and rather more complicated for Palestinians. The wall and separation fence that have been built along some 700 kilometers of the border between areas A and C include checkpoints at various sites. Some of these are open all day, and Palestinians and their vehicles have to be checked thoroughly in order to go through them. Obviously, the task of the IDF soldiers who do the work of policing these checkpoints is to ensure that Israel’s security is not threatened. This inevitably places a heavy responsibility on their young shoulders. I’m thinking of my own grandsons now serving in the IDF as I write this, and it makes me shudder.

Just outside Qalqiliya (a stone’s throw from Kfar Saba) we were taken to a large nursery where plants and flowers were on sale, arranged aesthetically in serried rows, with labels in Hebrew. The clientele consists of Israelis, mainly from nearby Alfei Menashe, we were told by Omar, the friendly owner of the nursery. As we sat in the shade, drinking coffee and enjoying the ambience, he told us about his daily routine. The land on which the nursery stands has been owned, and registered as such, by his family for generations. It is agricultural land which lies just beyond the town of Qalqiliya, where he and his family live. This requires going through the checkpoint at least twice a day, each time involving lengthy delays and checks, especially of his vehicle. At one of the checkpoints, which is managed by a civilian company rather than the IDF, sniffer dogs are used, which the local population finds particularly offensive.

At the village of Nebi Elias we met a member of the village council, who took us up to the roof of the municipality building to show us how the road leading out of the village has been blocked, preventing the villagers from gaining access to their land, and obliging them to make a long detour in order to do so. From the roof we had a good view of the open sewage from nearby Alfei Menashe, which courses down the hill to where the outlying houses of the village are situated.

‘Agricultural gates’ have been set into the separation fence, enabling farmers and others to go through more freely. Some of these are opened two or three times a day at specified times for quarter of an hour. Others are open only once or twice a year, at a defined season (e.g., the time of the olive harvest), and access to farmland is possible only then. We stood on a hill and watched as a cart drawn by a donkey raced to get to the gate just before it closed.

According to an Ottoman law that is still in effect, land that is not cultivated for three years reverts to become state property. Hence the importance for the local farmers of being able to gain access to their land. We were told that in most areas the relations between the Israeli settlers and the local inhabitants are peaceful, if not amicable. In some cases, however, the more radical settlers engage in harassing the Palestinians who come to tend their olive groves, and have even been known to cause damage to the trees themselves. More recently individual Palestinians have conducted ‘lone terrorist’ attacks on Israelis.

At the edge of Elkana we observed a solitary Palestinian house that is entirely surrounded by the separation fence. A special gate has been made in it, enabling the members of the family living there to go in and out freely, but only they are allowed to do so. Cameras and soldiers at the nearby checkpoint ensure that no one else takes advantage of this arrangement.

At the end of the tour, using the term ‘occupation’ for the first time, our guide pointed out the evils and injustices inherent in the situation. The question that remains is, are the settlers the true Zionists, akin to those pioneers who established the first settlements of what is now Israel proper, or are they oppressors who have expropriated land that by rights belongs to others?

One thing is certain, there is no simple solution to the problem, and the intransigence displayed by the leaders on both sides means that any solution is inevitably slipping ever further away. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look as if the age-old Hebrew prayer ‘May he who makes peace in his high places, make peace for us and for all Israel,’ is going to be fulfilled any time soon.

 

Watching the Barriers

Tags

Checkpoint 300, District Coordinator Liaison, Machsom Watch

 

 

The organization known as Machsom Watch has been in existence for over ten years. Since its first tentative steps as a small group of humanitarian feminists who wanted to protect the human and civil rights of Palestinians it has grown in numbers, is less radically feminist, but is still confined to women. Curious to see what they did, I joined a group of five early one morning. The women were all of a certain age and belonged to a specific (middle-class, Ashkenazi, secular) segment of the population. Since that is the category into which I fall, too, I felt quite at home in with them.

Our first stop that chilly morning was Checkpoint 300, also known as Rachel’s Checkpoint due to its proximity to the site of Rachel’s Tomb. We stood and watched as hundreds of Palestinian men filed through electronic barriers where their documents were checked. Soldiers, some of them still in their teens, checked the papers and made sure that everything went without a hitch.

Every Palestinian worker must have a green ID card, issued by the Palestinian Authority, as well as an electronic card and a work permit, issued at the behest of his employer. I did not sense any tension or antagonism in the process, and everything appeared to be going smoothly. Once through the barrier the men boarded buses provided by the employers or began walking towards Jerusalem.

If you are a Palestinian man and want a permit to work in Israel you must be married and have at least one child. If you are the close relative of someone who has been arrested on suspicion of terrorist activity, nationalist sympathies, or stone-throwing, your work permit can be taken away from you, in which case you are ‘blacklisted.’ I was told of an instance in which three brothers who had been working in Israel for several years were blacklisted after their teenage brother was arrested for throwing stones.

This is an area in which the women of Machsom Watch have become proficient, as there is a process of appeal against being blacklisted. The various procedures, including filling in forms and even appearing before a special administrative court at which the military authority is required to justify the blacklisting, are difficult if not impossible for the average Palestinian manual labourer to master. Some of the women I met can speak some Arabic and it was very touching to see the burly labourers come over to one of the women to ask for her help in solving some administrative problem or other. In many cases they know them by name, and speak to her as a friend. Some 70 percent of those blacklisted get their work permits back after Machsom Watch’s intervention.

After spending an hour at Checkpoint 300, we drove through the Etzion tunnel and the hilly countryside to the Etzion Bloc, to the office of the District Coordinator Liaison. This is the administrative centre where youngsters wishing to start working come to get their initial permit. In order to work in one of the settlements the requirements for obtaining a permit are less rigid, and this is where many youngsters find employment. This is also where special permits are issued to Palestinians who need to enter Israel in order to attend hospital.

The building where the men wait is equipped with seating and even air-conditioning. Specific days are allocated to specific villages, and while the system seems to be working it is laborious and time-consuming.

However, when I look back to my early days in Israel I recall what seemed to me at the time to be complex and mistrustful bureaucratic procedures that often left me frustrated and tearful. If you are a foreigner, it’s not easy to get a work permit in any European country or the USA. All over the world bureaucracy is rampant, but in Israel it is augmented by the need to maintain security and protect the civilian population.

But at least I didn’t have to go through the experience every day.

 (This article first appeared in the AJR Journal)