QALANDIYA: “Israel is going to enter the Guinness Book of Records for having built the world’s biggest prison,” laments Abed Yabrud, waiting his turn to cross the Qalandiya military checkpoint. The checkpoint, on the separation barrier Israel is building through the occupied West Bank, will from Monday be turned into a veritable frontier between Ramallah and occupied Al Quds, only accessible to those with special permits.
Thousands of Palestinians will then have to take lengthy detours to reach their homes or place of work.
Abed Yabrud, who works as a pharmacist in Ramallah, lives in Al Ram, a village on the Israeli side of the barrier. Normally, making the crossing takes five minutes, but from next week he will have to find another route that will take ‘at least an hour’.
“With what right is Israel doing this on our land? Now they say it’s us who are not creating peace. We can’t have hope when we see they want everything and don’t trust us,” he says, shouting to be heard over the noise of bulldozers working under the supervision of Israeli soldiers.
Ehud Olmert, whose Kadima party won Tuesday’s election in Israel, vowed during his campaign to turn the security barrier into a border, in what could see tens of thousands of Jewish settlers recalled from the Palestinian side.
The plan, which he is prepared to carry out unilaterally, is much criticised by Palestinian leaders, but could soon become reality at Qalandiya.
“Olmert’s day of glory has come. With his election victory and the Hamas government in Palestine he can do whatever he feels like. It’s the perfect pretext,” says Mussa Naji, a civil servant who lives on the outskirts of Al Quds.
For Mussa Naji, Mr Olmert’s election ‘is no reason for hope’, despite the fact the Kadima leader announced he was ready to make ‘territorial concessions’ to the Palestinians in his victory speech after the Israeli ballot.
“We have seen very different Israeli leaders: (Binyamin) Netanyahu, (Ehud) Barak, (Ariel) Sharon,” he says, referring to the last three premiers.
“We don’t believe their words. They don’t need to rely on us for anything. Take Qalandiya, people are asking, ‘Did they ask anyone’s permission to build a terminal like this?’”
Chief Palestinian negotiator Saeb Erakat has also criticised the move.
“You cannot turn a checkpoint into an international crossing in order to suffocate the Palestinian population and inflict on them collective punishment.”
Crossing the checkpoint to Ramallah is no problem, but heading for Al Quds, Palestinians will be split in two: those with a blue permit to enter the Holy City and those without, who must find another, more distant, way in.
“I’ll need at least two hours to reach my house. Now it takes half an hour. Thanks a lot, Olmert,” says Rabija, an economics student at Ramallah University, who lives in Beit Hanina, north of Al Quds.
Hundreds of Palestinians cross this checkpoint daily. At both ends of the concrete passageway are long queues of people and a cacophony of taxis, buses and small stall holders, creating an unbearable chaos that the new terminal will only make worse.
“I remember when the people of Qalandiya could go freely to Jerusalem (Al Quds). Now I can see myself dying with the image of this wall in my head and with the feeling my grandchildren won’t know peace either,” says the elderly Abdallah Raja, a photo of late Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat on the door of his shop.
Finally, after going through various control points, Abed Yabrud crosses with a gesture of tiredness towards Al Ram. There, a sign in Hebrew, Arabic and English welcomes him: “Have a pleasant and safe stay.”—AFP
