Walking past the queuing car up to the checkpoint
A Bethlehem-EA who had been visiting Tulkarem for a couple of days, called to inform us of the new restrictions in the early afternoon. She had had a difficult time passing the Al Ras/Jbarah checkpoint south of Tulkarem, but, being a foreigner, was let through at last. After hearing of more incidents with less successful outcomes at several checkpoints, we decided to go and check out the situation ourselves.
When we arrived at Jbarah checkpoint, there were about 50 young-ish men waiting to go through on foot. They had come to the checkpoint in taxis and servises to go home from work and universities, and had been told to step out and wait. Now the soldiers were ignoring them and they were just standing around.
Whenever they tried to approach the soldiers to ask them if they could let them through or how long it would take before the restrictions would be lifted, they were shouted at and told to pull back. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by a French-speaking soldier who immediately developed a strong dislike for Guillaume. He told us that this was a good lesson for the Palestinians. 'Next time they will think twice before voting for Hamas', he said. Clever chap.
Increasing number of men waiting by the checkpoint
Increasing number of cars waiting by the checkpoint
There were those who tried to walk through the fields around the checkpoint. They were stopped by soldiers waiting in the bushes who sent them back to the checkpoint. As time passed, more and more cars arrived and the group of men grew steadily. Some of them had young children with them, but this was not an ameliorating factor in any way. The soldiers had their orders and did not budge an inch.
Catching the last sun rays and trying to keep the mood up
After an hour and a half, there were over 300 people waiting in cars and by the road. As it got colder and darker, people lit fires to keep warm. Palestinians are used to waiting, so many just sat down and hoped for the restrictions to get lifted. Others, however, were desperate to get home. 'We did not blow ourselves up in Dimona, so why are they punishing us?' could be heard repeatedly in the crowd. Questions that we couldn't answer were directed at us. 'Where will we sleep tonight?'. 'Why are we treated like animals?'. More and more people were asking us for help - a sick old woman in a car, a bus full of children, a man with an infant - but the situation didn't leave us any room to act. The chaos, the desperation of the people, started feeling heavy on our shoulders.
With nowhere to go, fires are necessary to keep warm
In the end, the animosity the French-speaking soldier felt towards Guillaume ended our watch. He started threatening us that if we didn't remove ourselves from the checkpoint, he would have us arrested. He physically pushed Guillaume to underline his point and called him 'a short leftist from Europe' (more on how Guillaume experienced the day here). We knew then that our presence would only continue annoy this soldier, and since we couldn't do much about the waiting men, decided it was time to leave.
When we arrived home, exhausted, sad and cold, the phone started ringing. It was people we knew - friends, contacts, acquaintances - who wanted our help. They had husbands, sons, brothers stuck at various checkpoints around Tulkarem. We could only reply: 'There's nothing we can do. We are so sorry for what is happening'. I believe we both felt completely useless in that moment.
Our evening ended with a visit from our friend Samar and her colleague who lives in Jenin, the northernmost city in the West Bank. After waiting in vain for six hours at Anabta checkpoint, Samar's friend decided to turn back to Tulkarem. He was one of the lucky ones, he had somewhere to sleep. He told us that people had been ordered to stay in their cars at the checkpoint, and anyone who had tried to open their car door were reminded to keep it shut as the soldiers responded with gunfire.
Suicide bombings are despicable. So is collective punishment.
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