QALANDIA (West Bank): Eight-year-old Ahmed Shqeir measures his life in coffee cups. A coffee kettle in one hand and plastic cups in the other, the young Palestinian peddler shuttles among angry Palestinian motorists waiting in long lines for Israeli soldiers to wave them through a checkpoint near the West Bank city of Ramallah.

Like most other Palestinians, the 10 members of the Shqeir family have been feeling the economic pinch of travel restrictions which Israel has tightened since the start of a Palestinian uprising against occupation 14 months ago.

Ahmed’s father Ibrahim was one of 120,000 Palestinian labourers whom Israel, citing security concerns, has banned from its territory.

The boy decided to sell coffee at the checkpoint after Israel jailed his father in April for four months for working inside the Jewish state without a permit.

“I wish they would leave these checkpoints and let my dad go back to work so I can study and have some time for playing with my friends,” Ahmed said.

The boy begins his daily grind after school. His mother prepares the coffee for him, and he does not return home until he takes in at least 100 shekels ($20).

“Please buy a cup — I want to make money for the day before it gets dark,” the curly-haired boy asks one driver.

Ahmed is his family’s sole provider. His older brother Mohammed, 10, used to sell coffee at the checkpoint but he was hit by a car and lost his spleen.

The family had moved to Qalandia refugee camp from a village near the West Bank city of Al Khalil, in so-far unsuccessful bid to find alternative employment for the father after his release in July.

Now it is all up to the eight-year-old. “Sometimes, I need to stay really late at night to sell the coffee and sometimes I am lucky and can go home early to do my homework and get enough sleep,” Ahmed said. “It depends on how crowded the checkpoint is.”

Ahmed is not alone in trying to eke out a living at the roadblock, located on one of the busiest roads in the West Bank. Jobless Palestinians have opened makeshift shops selling fruit, shoes, snacks and ice cream.

Some youngsters work as porters, carrying pedestrians’ packages and heavy bags through the checkpoint. Mazen Hussein, 15, zigzagged between cars with his three-wheel wooden cart as he looked for business.

“Checkpoints are in general bad because, as you see here, they strangle people. But they are good for me,” he said, stopping next to a customer, a woman holding up three bags of fruit and vegetables for him to ferry through the roadblock.

The situation at checkpoints is always fluid. Israeli “closures” of Palestinian areas can take many forms, such as a total ban on Palestinian movement or a blockade of vehicles but not pedestrians.

Sometimes the army digs trenches or piles mounds of rubble and earth on roads to stop traffic, saying the measures are aimed at stopping suicide bombers and militants from carrying out attacks in Israel.

Palestinians call it collective punishment that has crippled their economy.

“I am not happy. I don’t have time for studying or even playing with my brothers, said Ahmed, who wants to be a maths teacher when he grows up. “I dream of having at least one day off.”—Reuters