13 Feb 2003
As I stepped onto the hill, leading down from the Refugee Camp, I saw him crouch down, point his gun in my direction, and take aim. The sound of the shot echoed round the valley.
I took my mobile out of my pocket and rang the Consul, explained that I was trying to go to Salim Village to have tea and celebrate Eid with a friend, and that despite the fact I was wearing my high visibility jacket, and had been wearing it around this soldier for a month, he was shooting at me.
Further down the hill and another shot. I yell “International” at the top of my voice and continue down. The Consul talks to me as I pick my way across the impossibly muddy mess that is Azmout Checkpoint (or not as the case may be). At the other side he comes running up to me and pokes me hard in the chest with the barrel of his M16. The Consul is still on the line.
“Why are you poking me with your gun?”
“Go back or I'll shoot
you.”
“Why are you threatening to shoot me?”
“Because you came here,
when I told you not to...”
“I did, I fired warning shots, now go back or
I'll shoot you.”
“I want to go to Salim Village.”
“You have to go
through a checkpoint.”
“This is a checkpoint!”
“No it's not.”
“Yes it is, and it's the only way to Salim Village.”
“You have to go
through an official checkpoint.”
“This is an official checkpoint, I've
passed here many times after showing my passport.”
“No it's not. Only
humanitarian cases are allowed through here.”
“That's not true! Many
people cross here. You and I both know that.”
I explain what's going on the Consul. The soldier who wears three stripes is Ariel Ze'ev. He's a crazy man. He leads a group of four soldiers who spend days wandering up and down this road detaining people, obstructing their paths, punishing them, shooting at them. The group of four wander around, without a vehicle, suggesting that they believe they are quite safe.
Now he tells me this is his country, he's in charge here and I'm not going to Salim. I'm going back the way I came or he's going to shoot me. It's 9.30 am and I ask the Consul to speak to the IDF for me, and if they refuse permission, to ask them to fax a map and directions of how I can get to the village. I know it's impossible. The army has dug up all the roads and surrounded Salim and two neighbouring villages with a 10km ditch. The only possible route is through another two checkpoints, and then a half hour walk down the settler road, where Palestinians may not walk. Anyone on the road is likely to be hassled by soldiers, or even worse, armed settlers. No ambulances can get into the villages, and already two people have died at Azmout waiting for ambulances on the other side.
I tell Ze'ev that I intend to go to Salim, that I have spoken to my Consul (she listened in after all!) and that I'm not leaving till I get permission to go.
So begins the long wait. Shortly after he stops a car, detains the driver at gunpoint, puts him against the wall, and parks the car in the middle of the road to Salim. He shoots at anyone who approaches the checkpoint. His three stooges sit against the wall of a house, looking bored and depressed. It is raining. I make more calls. Three internationals will join me later I hear. The ISM media office prepares a press release to send out. A shepherd is next. He is detained at 10.30 and made to sit against the wall. His sheep are left to their own devices. Later two Internationals will try to retrieve them. They will not be good shepherd material and will be relieved when his brother appears and rounds the sheep up. They do manage to retrieve the donkey and tie it to a tree though. The shepherd is in for a lousy day. At about one Ze'ev will decide he is cheeky, cuff him and make him squat facing the wall. He will join another man who dared to question Ze'evs responsibility.
A gynaecologist will join those who are not cuffed. He was given permission to cross earlier. When he returns to the checkpoint, Ze'ev will fire a shot in his direction and tell him to go back. An International will walk to him and walk back with him. Ze'ev will take his ID and make him sit against the wall. “Why?” the International will ask. “Because he didn't go back when I told him to” Ze'ev will say. I will phone the Israeli Human Rights Group Hammoked, in front of Ze'ev, explain the situation to them and pass the phone to the doctor. After the phone call Ze'ev will threaten the doctor and then give him back his ID and tell him to go.
Every now and then Ze'ev will ask me if I have my official answer. Not yet I will tell him. More phone calls with the Consul. “Where exactly are you?” “What's your passport number?” She will give it to the Israelis, even after she promises not to!
The three Internationals arrive. It gets chaotic at times and decisions seem arbitrary and strange. Some pass with impunity, some cross without any problem. Others are detained for wanting to go from one village to another. Others are allowed to go. Some are shot at long before they get near, and don't come any closer. Ze'ev will assault at least eight of the men during the course of the day, kicking, punching, and banging heads against the wall. Sometimes Internationals will get between Ze'ev and the detained; sometimes it happens so quickly no one knows it is coming. Ze'evs mood will fluctuate throughout the day, as it does every day. He would be in danger of a Mental Health section in the UK. Here he gets a gun, limitless ammunition and three soldiers and three villages to order around.
Several times he announces loudly that it is not human. Time passes. I remind the Consul that all I want to do is visit as friend for a cup of tea. I remind Ze'ev that I am not at war with him, and neither is he at war with me. He's stopped threatening to shoot me now. At one point he wants to discuss where I bought my Doc Martens boots, and how similar they are to his.
Two thirty and the Consul rings. The Army spokesman has told her that I am allowed to pass, and that he will clear it with the soldiers. Several times the radio goes and Ze'ev speaks into it. But he says nothing to me. By now I am moving about freely. I go off to show an International where the sheep are.
“Where are you going?” asks one of the soldiers.
“To look for sheep,” I
reply. “Why, am I under arrest?”
“No” comes back the reply.
I go to get cigarettes from the shop in Azmout. I meet a man who has grazes and tells me was assaulted by soldiers trying to cross the valley. I ring Hammoked again, and they speak to him and take his details.
4pm and I ring the Consul again. She is surprised to hear from me. They told me that they spoke to the soldiers and you have gone to the village“ she says.
”Can I go to Salim?“ I ask Ze'ev. He ignores me.
I ask a soldier, he
asks Ze'ev. ”No“ comes back the reply. I speak to the Consul again. The man
who gave permission left the office at three. ”No problem,“ I tell her,
”I'll just come back tomorrow and you can ring him then!“ I tell her.
I turn to the soldier. ”You guys must really enjoy my company,“ I say. ”I'll be back again tomorrow and then I'll go to Salim. Ze'ev suddenly comes to life, “Go now” he says, pointing to the village.
I have won. His authority has been undermined. His orders have been overturned. Diplomatic pressure has been applied.
Some of the men are detained until 10pm. It is cold and raining. I sleep the night in Salim. People are increasingly worried about the checkpoint, many avoid it, some can't. Arbitrary decisions are made. Arbitrary detentions and assaults take place every day. They don't believe the world will help. They don't know how it will stop. None of the three villages has produced a suicide bomber. The only possible explanation I can see for it is that the Israelis are trying to crush the villages. It may be working. Many villagers have given up and moved into Nablus. The settlers have been down and stolen sheep, wild pigs have appeared on the land inexplicably, wells have been contaminated.
I remember the discussion with the soldier at one point during the day.
“Don't you agree that Israel has the most moral army in the world?” he
asks.
“No” I respond.
Robin
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