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.