Letter from Palestine, 10. Travel restrictions.
5th November 2004
Dear friends!
I had planned to write about my second Christmas gift idea, the olive tree campaign, this week, but then there is something more important to write about. The olive tree campaign can wait, or you can read more on http://www.ej-ymca.org/site/Display-Sub.cfm?SubID=22
Palestinians visiting Norway have a tendency of focusing on travel restrictions. Many Norwegians I have talked with find it boring. “There must be something else to tell about. These problems with travelling can’t be that big.” The problems are big, and they are there every day. As a Palestinian you never know when to expect to be at your destination. It is impossible to calculate time on travelling. You don’t even know if you will come to your destination.
With a Norwegian passport I have been privileged travelling around and passing checkpoints. But today I have experienced how the Palestinians travel themselves. I have been to Jericho a few days again. Today is Friday, and I was ready to leave for Jerusalem to have the chance to write letters and other things, and to spend the weekend here. I found a taxi to take me to the checkpoint. When I came there, I was sent back. The checkpoint was closed. It was closed! The city was closed, isolated from the rest of the world. I don’t know why. I don’t know if anybody knows. But I have a theory. It is Friday, holiday for Mumslims. It is Ramadan, holy month for Muslims. Friday and Ramadan is double holy and a fantastic possibility to close all communication and then make life difficult for those who want to celebrate the day.
I prepared mentally to be in Jericho another night. I convinced myself that it would be nice. I did not have anything I had to do in Jerusalem before tomorrow. Then we met a taxi ready to get out of the city by an “alternative way”. I have become very alternative after the olive picking with the “Alternative Tourism Group” last week. When something did not go according to the plans, we always did it in an alternative way; it often included finding alternative roads when the normal roads were closed. The alternative way out of Jericho is though not a road, but a route in the sand where cars have driven before, east of the checkpoint. I found out that we were quite a few cars on the alternative route; four cars followed us in the sand. I have also earlier been impressed about Palestinian drivers, but this passing of sand and ravines made me even more impressed. It is a creative and persevering people I live with.
It can take half an hour to drive from Jericho to Jerusalem. Today it took half an hour to get out of Jericho. On the other side of the checkpoint I found a new taxi. It was going to Ramallah. None of them were going to Jerusalem or Azarya, because the road was closed… So I went to Qalandia. There I waited for a long time with a big group of others, and got a seat in the fourth bus going to Jerusalem. I spent altogether two hours on the travel and one hour resting in Jerusalem.
When I on Wednesday travelled from Jerusalem to Jericho, I also experienced the increasing control on the movements of Palestinians. I took a bus from Jerusalem to Abu Dis, the way I have learnt to go. When I came to Abu Dis, it was though not possible to pass the low wall to come to Azarya, as I have done earlier. The wall was closed with barbed wire and soldiers patrolled back and forth. Now it was not difficult to find out where to go instead. A stream of people went through the gate of a church, passed the property of the church and went out of another gate. There were soldiers both by the gates and where people walked. Those who were on their way to Jerusalem were controlled and I saw that several of them had to turn and go back.
I think my point is clear. The freedom of movement is like in a prison. I don’t need to tell that we had to wait almost an hour to get in to Hebron last Sunday, or that we had to take a long way round to get out when our Palestinian guide was not allowed to go out the normal way. Rana, my contact person here, has been away from the office one month because she had to wait for the document allowing her to travel from her home in Bethlehem to her work in Jerusalem. This was just a few examples.
When it is not the soldiers giving challenges when travelling from one place to another, it is the language. When I on Tuesday went from Beit Sahour to Jerusalem, I took a taxi ordered from Jerusalem together with three other olive pickers, two English-speaking and one French-speaking. The driver spoke neither English nor French, nor German or Norwegian or any other language we tried. The result was that we drove around half Jerusalem before he understood that we wanted to go to the Old City. After leaving the English-speaking by Jaffa gate, we were one Arab, one French and I in the car. The French and I got off at Damascus gate, and then the search for the Convent of the White Sisters, where she was to visit, started. It was quite fun for me who never learnt French. The French disclosed knowledge of a number of English words, and we found the convent at last!
Greetings from Hanne.
Dear friends!
I had planned to write about my second Christmas gift idea, the olive tree campaign, this week, but then there is something more important to write about. The olive tree campaign can wait, or you can read more on http://www.ej-ymca.org/site/Display-Sub.cfm?SubID=22
Palestinians visiting Norway have a tendency of focusing on travel restrictions. Many Norwegians I have talked with find it boring. “There must be something else to tell about. These problems with travelling can’t be that big.” The problems are big, and they are there every day. As a Palestinian you never know when to expect to be at your destination. It is impossible to calculate time on travelling. You don’t even know if you will come to your destination.
With a Norwegian passport I have been privileged travelling around and passing checkpoints. But today I have experienced how the Palestinians travel themselves. I have been to Jericho a few days again. Today is Friday, and I was ready to leave for Jerusalem to have the chance to write letters and other things, and to spend the weekend here. I found a taxi to take me to the checkpoint. When I came there, I was sent back. The checkpoint was closed. It was closed! The city was closed, isolated from the rest of the world. I don’t know why. I don’t know if anybody knows. But I have a theory. It is Friday, holiday for Mumslims. It is Ramadan, holy month for Muslims. Friday and Ramadan is double holy and a fantastic possibility to close all communication and then make life difficult for those who want to celebrate the day.
I prepared mentally to be in Jericho another night. I convinced myself that it would be nice. I did not have anything I had to do in Jerusalem before tomorrow. Then we met a taxi ready to get out of the city by an “alternative way”. I have become very alternative after the olive picking with the “Alternative Tourism Group” last week. When something did not go according to the plans, we always did it in an alternative way; it often included finding alternative roads when the normal roads were closed. The alternative way out of Jericho is though not a road, but a route in the sand where cars have driven before, east of the checkpoint. I found out that we were quite a few cars on the alternative route; four cars followed us in the sand. I have also earlier been impressed about Palestinian drivers, but this passing of sand and ravines made me even more impressed. It is a creative and persevering people I live with.
It can take half an hour to drive from Jericho to Jerusalem. Today it took half an hour to get out of Jericho. On the other side of the checkpoint I found a new taxi. It was going to Ramallah. None of them were going to Jerusalem or Azarya, because the road was closed… So I went to Qalandia. There I waited for a long time with a big group of others, and got a seat in the fourth bus going to Jerusalem. I spent altogether two hours on the travel and one hour resting in Jerusalem.
When I on Wednesday travelled from Jerusalem to Jericho, I also experienced the increasing control on the movements of Palestinians. I took a bus from Jerusalem to Abu Dis, the way I have learnt to go. When I came to Abu Dis, it was though not possible to pass the low wall to come to Azarya, as I have done earlier. The wall was closed with barbed wire and soldiers patrolled back and forth. Now it was not difficult to find out where to go instead. A stream of people went through the gate of a church, passed the property of the church and went out of another gate. There were soldiers both by the gates and where people walked. Those who were on their way to Jerusalem were controlled and I saw that several of them had to turn and go back.
I think my point is clear. The freedom of movement is like in a prison. I don’t need to tell that we had to wait almost an hour to get in to Hebron last Sunday, or that we had to take a long way round to get out when our Palestinian guide was not allowed to go out the normal way. Rana, my contact person here, has been away from the office one month because she had to wait for the document allowing her to travel from her home in Bethlehem to her work in Jerusalem. This was just a few examples.
When it is not the soldiers giving challenges when travelling from one place to another, it is the language. When I on Tuesday went from Beit Sahour to Jerusalem, I took a taxi ordered from Jerusalem together with three other olive pickers, two English-speaking and one French-speaking. The driver spoke neither English nor French, nor German or Norwegian or any other language we tried. The result was that we drove around half Jerusalem before he understood that we wanted to go to the Old City. After leaving the English-speaking by Jaffa gate, we were one Arab, one French and I in the car. The French and I got off at Damascus gate, and then the search for the Convent of the White Sisters, where she was to visit, started. It was quite fun for me who never learnt French. The French disclosed knowledge of a number of English words, and we found the convent at last!
Greetings from Hanne.
posted by Hanne at 7:32 AM
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