Checkpoint morning blues

It is 8 am in the morning and I have been up for four hours. I have only had a few hours sleep and I am exhausted. But I need to write right down what I've seen. I can't sleep anyway. An important task for us here in Bethlehem is to be present in the mornings at Checkpoint 300/Gilo Checkpoint which thousands of Palestinians pass every day to go to work, university or hospital in Jerusalem or Israel. When we got there at 4.30am around 500 people were already standing in line. It was freezing cold. Some people were sleeping, others were warming themselves around a fire. One man said he had been waiting since 2 am. It is important to be there early, because when the turnstiles open at 5.00am (if things go as they should) you must rush to the terminal building to get in line for the metal detectors.

There is a so called humanitarian lane at the checkpoint which is reserved for women, children, elderly and sick people. Today at 6.00am it was packed with workers desperate to get to work after a 12 day Pesach and Easter holiday closure. So desperate, in fact,that they managed to squeeze in two or three people in the turnstile at the same time, arms and legs going everywhere. If some ribs cracked this morning, I am not surprised. The turnstile gets jammed. Women and children were left behind waiting. A man approaches me saying "Good morning. Please, can you help me? I am a doctor in a hospital and I need to get to work." We try phoning the Israeli Defence Force's humanitarian hotline. Sometimes it helps. I think.

Inside the terminal some of the muslim men do their morning prayers on pieces of cardboard on the floor. As people rush down from the first turnstile to get to the metal detectors there is shouting and confusion and people nearly fall on top of each other. I watch them getting in line and find myself surprised to see that many are laughing and smiling jokingly at me. A soldier is walking above us on the catwalk, looking down at the crowd.

My colleague and I get in line for the metal detectors. It takes us over half an hour to get through a distance of about 20 metres. While the Palestinians have to take off their shoes, belts and put their bags and coats on the belt, I am waved through by the 18-year-old girl soldier in the booth. I still decide take off my vest to put it on the belt. Should I be treated differently because I got lucky passport-wise?

After the metal detectors comes the document inspection. There are less people here. I look outside and I can see the sun rising. My colleague is counting how many inspection booths are open. I stand quietly and look around. Men come running, shoes in one hand, lunch bag in the other. Smiling. "Sabah al-Kheyr!" they say to me. Good morning. I think about being back in bed. Warm and comfortable. Then I feel guilty, since I don't have to stand in line here every day. I can leave whenever I want to. A poster on the wall catches my eye. It is an Israeli tourism commercial. When I read what it says I wonder if the Israeli tourist marketing director has done this on purpose in a moment of extreme irony. It says, "Israel - for the time of your life." Right.

For a better idea of what the checkpoint is like, see this YouTube clip by Machsom Watch.