monday morning commute

this morning i woke at 4:45 a.m. and met arnie, one of the leaders of my group, at 5:15 to walk out of the damascus gate to catch one of the first arab busses to the bethlehem checkpoint.  the man who owns my favorite little bakery in the muslim quarter was sitting near the turnaround with three boxes of pastries, selling them to those on their way to work and other early risers.  we spoke for a moment as we waited for the bus.  at 5:40 we rode through the city, the sun just beginning to peak above the trees, casting a warm glow over the stonework of the buildings.  in less than ten minutes we pulled up to the checkpoint.

groups of palestinians congregated in various areas or sat lined up against low walls, waiting to be picked up for the final leg of their commute to work.  the busses pulling away from this area to head into jerusalem were full, while arnie and i were the only passengers arriving to pass through to bethlehem.  as we walked into the terminal, i was surprised by its emptiness.  three or four of the twelve security gates were operating, with a few people lined up at each, waiting to show their documents.  the woman sitting in the booth examined our passports and we passed through, walking through the two separate turnstyles and out the building to the open (yet caged) area between gates.

crossing through to the second security point, which is the entry from the bethlehem side, i was confronted by the reality of this checkpoint: hoards of palestinian men lined the gated corral, waiting to be allowed entry into the checkpoint itself.  images that remain with me are their hardened and tired expressions.  unexpectedly, i found myself having a hard time looking directly into their faces, into their eyes, though that is precisely what i wanted to do -- to see each man as an individual and to somehow express my belief that these requirements are unjustified.  whether this discomfort was due to my own anxiety, not wanting to face my part in these restrictions, or to not wanting these men to feel that i was discounting them in any way, as though they were on display for me to watch, i'm still not sure.  something about the way these individuals were made to line up in this narrow passageway seemed to portray the utter control the occupation has over the everyday functions of regular people and the sheer disruption and pain that are part of the fabric of occupation.  something else that stood out to me was the fact that this forced gathering of people was devoid of happiness and of human connection.  no one laughed, few smiled.  this in contrast to the warmth and vitality i have encountered in palestinians throughout my time here.

when we reached the bottom of the ramp, we waited for our friend iyad to arrive.   a large group of men were concentrated around the entrance to the passageway that served as the corridor to the actual checkpoint.  though a bit surprised that we had chosen to cross the checkpoint simply to see and experience it for ourselves, a few palestinians spoke to us and asked about why we were there.  i bought some tea from a man working out of a cart.  arnie took some pictures.  a woman intentionally sought me out of the crowd to speak her mind as to why so many people stood at the base of this checkpoint and why the line stood motionless.  the speed of their "processing" lays completely in the hands of the guards sitting behind glass, which prevents any type of genuine interaction to even be possible in these circumstances.

at a few minutes past 6:00 we began to reverse our steps through the checkpoint.  the hardest part was managing to get onto the ramp in the first place.  every  ten minutes or so, the line ahead of us began to shuffle forward and the crowd at the bottom began to heave and shove as though it were an organism in itself.  bodies pressed up against mine; the sensation of being squeezed beyond a natural point filled me and i fought to stay standing upright while also trying to press back against the masses in order to secure a place in line.  after a few long minutes the tightness relaxed as the empty spaces in the line were filled.  as for myself, i sighed heavily, realizing that i had barely inched forward.  once again we stood waiting.

another ten minutes or so passed and these motions were repeated.  again, my body was compressed and i closed my eyes to will myself against falling and push back.  the force of those around me made me feel as though i were being lifted from the ground.  i reached for the metal bar forming the barrier of the passageway and simply continued to push.  several minutes later i was inside the passageway though now i was being pressed up against the bars, until finally i stood of my own accord.

because i am a woman, the men stood to the side to allow me to pass alongside them and make my way to the terminal itself.  while iyad explained that this is customary of muslims, moving ahead of all of these men who had been waiting much longer than myself caused me to feel somewhat guilty in my privilege.  nevertheless we moved ahead and reached the top of the ramp only to once again stand waiting.  only a few dozen people were allowed to move through this stage of the checkpoint at a time.  eventually, the soldier in the booth motioned us to move through the revolving turnstyle and show our documents.  the moment we got past this hurdle, men began running past me.  while this was reminiscient of airport scenes, the fact that their detainment was causing them to run (or already be) late for work struck me.

back inside the building, we passed through a security screening and then lined up to move through the individual security gates.  here, each palestinian produces his i.d. and work permits; next he places his hand in a scanner to check fingerprints.  making it past this turnstyle means you have arrived on the other side.

from here iyad hired a taxi, saying that taking the bus was a bit risky in that we could very well be stopped by flying checkpoints.  the words had barely escaped his mouth when we rounded the corner to come upon such a checkpoint, equipped with three IDF wearing yellow vests over their uniforms.  bus 124 was pulled to the edge of the roadway, each palestinian once again being checked for proper documentation.  a little way down the road, a second flying checkpoint awaited a bus in order to conduct an additional search.  to avoid these delays, iyad pays the extra charges of taking a taxi to the old city.  finally we arrived at the jaffa gate.

an average of 2,500 - 3,000 palestinians pass through this checkpoint during the morning rush between 5:30 - 7:30 a.m. each day.  the process can take up to two and a half hours to complete.  a palestinian living in bethlehem has the potential of having to show his paperwork four times on his way to work in jerusalem, a distance of some five kilometers away. 

all of this could be operated much more efficiently to allow people to pass through relatively quickly and smoothly.  simply opening the closed security gates would make a world of difference.  instead, inconvenience and disregard seem to be the nature of the situation.  none of the IDF is in a hurry to get people through.  rather, everything is slow with the appearance of being orderly.

iyad made it to work today with the checkpoint taking just under an hour, something for which he seemed quite grateful.  each day for him begins with the wall and the process of being corralled through the checkpoint.  yet he arrives each day outwardly displaying a positive attitude and a sense of humor.  when i think of our lifestyle in the u.s. and the minor setbacks that cause frustration and anger and the irrational actions that all too often result, i commend these individuals for their tenacity and endurance.