Monthly Archives: January 2010

Just Another Ordinary Day ( . . . . . under occupation)

Dawn broke as I walked through the gentle landscape of olive trees and limestone. The first warmth of the sun touched me and I felt glad to be alive. I became aware that I was not alone. First Ahmed passed me on his donkey, then Mahmoud on his tractor – both of them on their way to work in their fields.

Suddenly I came upon a crowd. About 25 men and a few women stood chatting, or attending to their donkeys as they waited patiently – but waited for what?

Beyond them was an ugly sight – a gate. And not just a gate, but one surrounded by barbed wire and warning notices. On either side, an electric fence stretched into the distance. This was the Separation Barrier – built for Israel’s security, but cutting right through the land and lives of these very ordinary people. I chatted to one or two who knew some English. I pointed to my watch with a gesture of hopelessness to indicate that the gate was late opening. “It’s always like this on Saturdays,” said one man. Finally the Israeli soldiers arrived on the other side of the fence and began to open the gate, holding on tightly to their guns as they did so.

First a woman walked forward to enter the security system. Then after two minutes a soldier indicated that the second person should advance. An old man with a stick got off his donkey and hobbled towards the metal detector. He passed through, and walked on to a locked turnstile. He waited for the turnstile to open and then hobbled on to a window. He pushed his ID card into a machine and waited for another soldier to allow him to proceed. He walked up to a door and waited again for a soldier to let him into the building. Once inside, he went through several more procedures invisible to me, and finally emerged. He hobbled back to collect his donkey and waited again while a soldier inspected the load on his donkey. Finally he mounted and rode slowly through the gate and on to his field.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All the other people, some of them elderly and frail, went through the same rigmarole. One at a time. Slowly and pedantically. All in the name of Israeli security.

Every day these people follow the same routine. It has become a normal part of their lives. As I mingled with them I sensed the resignation as well as the surpressed anger. Why should they need permits, let alone be subjected to this humiliating circus, just to get to their own land? If the Israeli government had built its Separation Barrier actually on the Green Line there would have been no grounds for complaint. No-one would have liked it, but clearly Israel is free to do as it likes with its own borders. But why make the Barrier cut into the West Bank? The reason quoted is always “security”. But it is difficult to see any security advantage to be gained in this area. There are not even any Israeli settlements enclosed by this section of the Barrier. One searches for logic in vain.

I make my way back through the olive trees. The sun is warmer now and the hills and valleys all around are simply delightful.

Just another ordinary day. But, like every day here, a crazy day.

My vision of Hell

Not many things move me to tears, but today I cried. We arrived at the Ephraim Terminal (a crossing point between the West Bank and Israel) at 4.10 a.m., 20 minutes before opening time and there were already about 1500 people waiting. They were jammed between two fences on a path 4m wide, with a snaked, fenced section at the front, leading up to three turnstiles. Suddenly there was a surge from the back and people in the middle were totally squashed, unable to move. It reminded me of the Hillsborough disaster. A man called out to me in English “I beg you to call for an ambulance. People cannot breathe.” This was my first time there and I just didn’t know what to do. It looked to me as if things might resolve themselves when the gate eventually opened. Also, for all I knew, this crush could be the same every day and there was no need to panic. But I wasn’t sure. So I phoned the Red Cross (whom we’re supposed to phone with any humanitarian problems at the gates). But this was complicated because we have several contradictory numbers for the Red Cross and I didn’t know which one to phone. I just phoned the first one that was in my phone which was labelled “Red Cross 24 hour”. (We have mobiles inherited from the previous team.) But when the Red Cross answered, they said they were in Hebron and I should phone the ordinary local Palestinian ambulance service. I didn’t feel like calling out the ambulance for something which might well be a false alarm, so I was in a quandary. Fortunately, the gate opened shortly afterwards and the crush eased. As far as I know, no-one was injured.

That was only the start. The turnstiles are remotely controlled by security guards inside the building (not by soldiers; it’s been privatized). At 4.30 a.m. the turnstiles were suddenly unlocked. There was a rush forward – everyone wanting to get through as quickly as possible. People have to go through a metal detector, watched on CCTV by the invisible guards who shout instructions and abuse at them over a loudspeaker. This is in Hebrew which many don’t understand very well. (I’m crying again just writing this.) One poor old man appeared to be totally confused about what he was supposed to do. He kept on taking off his boots, putting his package beside the detector, going through, then going back, picking everything up and going through again to loud beeping and screams of abuse. Eventually he went through, but I don’t really know quite how or why.

The turnstiles are suddenly locked and everyone stops and waits for the next time. Then it starts all over again. This process goes on and on and on and on. All the time I am desperately trying to use a hand counter to count how many people go through. (Part of our job is reporting data like this.) Meanwhile thousands of people are squashed into the fenced area for literally hours. Many need to get through early in order to get to work in Israel and not lose their jobs, so they arrive well before the gate opens at 4.30. These people can wait a total of several hours to get through; and this is their daily commute. The final total was about 3300, which is apparently rather less than is usual on a Sunday.

A number of men came back out of the turnstiles. In one case the computer apparently didn’t recognize the man’s fingerprint and he was refused entry. But in most cases the problem was that they got through the gate too late to catch their bus to work and so had to return home with no pay.

And what of the women? In Palestinian culture, the sexes do not normally come into close contact, but the circumstances in the crush make this impossible. They take their chances with the men, mostly in small groups, but suffering the same humiliating crush and unable to avoid very close contact with the men around them. There is a so-called “humanitarian gate” through which sometimes women are allowed to pass. But apparently this is not normally open and it wasn’t open today. Perhaps 200 women struggled through amongst the thousands of men.

We met two wonderful Israeli women from Machsom Watch. This is an informal group of very courageous Israeli women who do not agree either with the Occupation or with the way in which Palestinian people are often treated. They monitor the gates from the Israeli side, observing, occasionally intervening to help when a Palestinian is treated unreasonably and sometimes approaching the authorities to try to persuade them to improve the way that the system operates. These women are despised by many of their fellow-Israelis. When they began about 10 years ago, they were known amongst the soldiers as “Arafats’s whores.” They are of all ages, some of them well into their 70’s. We were able to speak to the two women at Ephraim through the fence, although they had to step over a roll of barbed wire in order to get near to us. We arranged with them that we would give a note to someone in the queue, with the time written on it. The idea was that when the man got through, he would give the note to Machsom Watch who would then phone us. We would then be able to record the time taken for the man to get through the gate. Unfortunately the note never arrived. In future we will be a bit more proactive about this and try to find people in the queue who speak English so that we can explain properly.

By 7.15 am nearly everyone was through the gate and I was a wet rag.

Why am I making such a fuss about people’s journey to work? OK, it’s a bit worse than most people’s commute in Britain, but you could argue that it’s not all that different from travelling on the London tube. Actually it’s hugely different. The Terminal is one of the Israeli government’s tools for controlling very strictly who is allowed to come from the West Bank into Israel to work. Their reason for its existence is “security”. But in reality, no security purpose is served by the process. One local Palestinian man who works for B’tselem (an Israeli human rights group) has passed through the Terminal many times and he described to us what happens. People have to go through five or six different processes in cramped conditions – turnstiles, metal detector, fingerprint reader, interrogation, waiting and the infamous “washing machine” which is the scanner that makes you appear naked to the observer. (This scanner is of particular concern to Palestinian women for whom it is utterly humiliating.) On one occasion when he passed through with his family, intending to go to the beach in Tel Aviv, he was accused of being a liar in front of his children. In fact, the whole process appears to be designed primarily to humiliate. If the real purpose were security, adequate checks could be done in five minutes, whereas the process usually takes an hour or so – not including waiting time. Furthermore, if anyone seriously intended to bring a bomb or weapon into Israel, there are apparently many easier ways to do it than going through the Terminal. He also told us a very sad fact. This Terminal was built using $55,000,000 from the EU. The money was given on the condition that it would be used to build a facility that would ease the lives of Palestinians. In fact it has been used to build a check point whose purpose appears to be to intimidate and to humiliate. The cynicism behind the acceptance of this money seems to me breath-taking.

This has been a bit rambling, I’m afraid. It’s more about my own personal response than a considered account. But I hope it gives a bit of a “feel” for what’s going on in this crazy, troubled place.

With best wishes,

Peter

Face to Face with Occupation

Today, my three team-mates and I went out for a relaxing stroll around Tulkarem. We happened to walk towards the Separation Barrier (which is an 8m wall here). We walked along a path parallel to the barrier, about 50m away from it. Suddenly we were hailed by two Israeli soldiers at a gate and told us to approach them. We did so. They asked who we were and what we were doing. They were troubled by the fact that we had taken a few photos and they expressed surprise that anyone would be walking near the border between Israel and Palestinian territory. Did we not realise that the border is a dangerous area? I felt like saying “Only because you’re here, and isn’t this Palestinian territory anyway?” You will be glad to know that I restrained myself and said nothing. Apparently we had walked through a “military area” although there was no sign to that effect. One soldier said “There is no sign, but the people know this is a military area and that they should not come here.” They told us to wait and they radio’d for an officer who duly arrived about 15 minutes later. He told us we shouldn’t be in this area. But then he asked us where we were staying and we told him that we are living in Tulkarem. He was surprised and asked us whether we had had any problems. It appeared that (like many Israelis) his view of the West Bank is that it is a dark and dangerous place, filled with terrorists and totally unsafe for any normal person. I really wanted to say to him “No, we’ve had no problems. The Palestinian people have been really friendly”. But again I restrained myself. He told us to return to Tulkarem and not to return to the military area. We agreed and continued our pleasant walk. Come to Palestine and meet new, friendly people!

I work for Quaker Peace and Social Witness as an Ecumenical Accompanier serving on the World Council of Churches’ Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). The views contained in this email are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer (QPSW) or the WCC. If you would like to publish the information contained here (including posting it on a website), or distribute it further, please first contact the QPSW Programme Manager for Israel/OPT (teresap@quaker.org.uk).

Dangerous Olive Trees?

The Palestinian farmer drove his tractor up to the gate, with its trailer full of young olive trees ready for planting. I watched as he entered the building to show his permit to the Israeli soldiers, and as he re-emerged. But then, instead of driving through the gate to get to his field, he turned round, drove back away from the gate, parked his tractor and trailer and walked through the gate on foot. What was going on?

It’s a long and crazy story. The Israeli government are building a Separation Barrier between Israel and the West Bank, which is Palestinian territory occupied by Israel since 1967. The Barrier is an 8m high wall along 15% of its length and a 4m high electrified fence along the rest. The trouble is the Barrier isn’t actually on the border; in many places it’s inside the West Bank. The route of the Barrier encroaches into Palestinian territory, enclosing about 15% of the West Bank. This means that many farmers are cut off from their land. Their homes are on the West Bank side of the Barrier but their farms are on the other side. The Israeli government has kindly provided “agricultural gates”, which are open for about an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. They also provide permits which authorize farmers to pass through particular gates to get to their land each day. (These permits are not easy to obtain and are sometimes revoked without warning. But that’s another story.)

I was standing near the agricultural gate at Deir Al-Ghusun when I watched the farmer leave his tractor and walk through the gate. I wanted to find out what was happening, so I slowly approached the gate, trying to look as non-threatening as I could. Three heavily armed soldiers walked towards me.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“This man has a permit to pass through the gate,” replied one of the soldiers, “but he doesn’t have a permit to take his olive trees through.”
“Does he need a permit to take olive trees through the gate?” I asked.
“Yes, he needs a permit to take olive trees into Israel,” said the soldier. “The reason is that once an olive tree is planted, it is not allowed to be dug up.”

I could hardly believe my ears. What the soldier said is astonishing for two reasons. Firstly the farmer had no intention of taking his olive trees into Israel. He wanted to plant them in his own farm. The soldier seemed not to appreciate that the Barrier is not the border. Secondly, in the last few years, about one million olive trees on Palestinian farms have been wantonly destroyed by Israeli settlers, who are living illegally on Palestinian territory in the West Bank. Yet this 20-year-old lad with a gun was telling me that it is not permitted to dig up olive trees in Israel!

Obviously I was straining at the leash to enter into a discussion on these points with the soldiers. But this is not the role of EAs (Ecumenical Accompaniers). We are there to observe, to document and to report. Furthermore, soldiers are not interested in discussing rights and wrongs. They are “only doing their job”. Trying to continue the conversation would only have inflamed matters.

“OK.” I said. “Thank you very much.”. And I walked away.

Later I wrote up this conversation in the weekly log that all EAs have to keep. This log gets sent to various interested parties such as the Red Cross, the UN and the British Consulate. They use the information to build up data bases and banks of stories about the effects of the Occupation on the lives of Palestinian people. So the story of the Dangerous Olive Trees will live on . . .

I work for Quaker Peace and Social Witness as an Ecumenical Accompanier serving on the World Council of Churches’ Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). The views contained in this email are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer (QPSW) or the WCC. If you would like to publish the information contained here (including posting it on a website), or distribute it further, please first contact the QPSW Programme Manager for Israel/OPT (teresap@quaker.org.uk).

Well – I’ve heard all the theory, but now I’ve seen the reality. Today I drank coffee with a beleaguered Palestinian family in East Jerusalem. The Al-Kurd family are currently forbidden by a court order to occupy the front part of their house, and an Israeli settler family has moved in there.

Before I go on, some explanation. Some of you know that I have come to the West Bank for three months with the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (details below). After a few days spent in Jerusalem, I shall be based in Tulkarem, a Palestinian town (pop 60,000) in the NW of the West Bank. Why will I be in Tulkarem? And what will I be doing? I will be answering these questions in future
emails. This email is an introduction and an opportunity to make contact. If you would prefer not to receive future emails, please let me know. Equally if you know anyone who would like to receive them, just ask them to email me. Thank you.

Now some background. The West Bank is Palestinian territory but has been under illegal Israeli occupation since 1967. One aspect of this Occupation is the removal of thousands of Palestinian people from their homes to make room for Israeli settlements to be built. These settlements are illegal in international law.

The Al-Kurd family expect to be evicted totally very soon. Sadly this is not the first time the family has had to abandon their home. In 1948, following the Arab-Israeli war, they were driven out of their home in Haifa. But in 1953 the UN provided a new home for them (and some others like them) in Sheikh Jarrah, on condition that they gave up their refugee status. They agreed, and have lived in the house ever since. But recently an Israeli settler group went to court and used documents from the Ottoman era to “prove” that the land had been owned by Jews before 1948, and so the Al-Kurds ought to pay rent. The family refused and the
result is the current impossible situation. Sadly this is all part of a plan by the Jerusalem Municipality to change the demography of the Sheikh Jarrah area of Jerusalem so that it will cease to be a Palestinian area and will become home for about 540 Jewish settler families.

It is tragic and ironic that Jewish Israelis can claim a “right to return” to
Palestinian land supposedly owned by Jews over a hundred years ago, but Palestinians cannot claim any similar right to return to land which they owned before the 1948 war, but which is now within Israel.

I watched helplessly as the settlers moved freely in and out of the Al-Kurds’ front door. All around was strewn an array of the Al-Kurds’ possessions that had been thrown out onto the front lawn. (See the attached pictures.) Other local Palestinian families have been evicted and their houses are now festooned with blue and white Israeli flags. It seems nothing can stop this madness.

Enough for now. Thank you for reading this far. Do please get in touch. I look at my email more often than my blog, so to make sure I get a message quickly, send it to peter@balaam.plus.com rather than posting it. Thanks.

With best wishes,

Peter Balaam

What is EAPPI?
EAPPI monitors human rights abuses on both sides of the conflict and also campaigns
for an end to the Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, believing that it
is bad for both Israelis and Palestinians. In practice, what EAPPI does is to send
volunteers to Israel and the Occupied
Palestinian Territories. What these volunteers do is

1. offer protection through non-violent presence
2. monitor and report violations of human rights and international humanitarian law
by either Israelis or Palestinians
3. support Israeli and Palestinian peace activists
4. undertake advocacy work including public speaking in the UK

This involves living in the West Bank or East Jerusalem and undertaking activities
such as

1. standing at checkpoints to try to reduce the abuse of Palestinian civilians and
help them gain access to their land, jobs, education or medical facilities
2. escorting Palestinian children to school in the face of harassment by extremist
Jewish settlers.
3. joining Israeli and Palestinian peace groups in peaceful
demonstrations, protesting about the occupation or about house demolitions etc.
4. writing regular reports about what is observed. These may be used in advocacy
work with, eg, politicians and others in the UK.

I work for Quaker Peace and Social Witness as an Ecumenical Accompanier serving on
the World Council of Churches’ Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and
Israel (EAPPI). The views contained in this email are personal and do not
necessarily reflect those of my employer (QPSW) or the WCC. If you would like to
publish the information
contained here (including posting it on a website) or distribute it further, please
first contact the QPSW Programme Manager for Israel/OPT teresap@quaker.org.uk for permission. Thank you.