a bigger story about barta'a

so i have an article about barta'a where i was working, that was written in haaretz about tawfik and his mother. it tells the story better than i can retell it here. very sad. written by gideon levy.

"For the first time in my life I see my mother suffering and I can't help
her. For 46 years, from the time I was born, such a thing never happened -
that I couldn't help my mother," says the son sadly, after he tried in vain
to take his mother from their home in east Barta'a to the government
hospital in Jenin, a 20-minute drive during ordinary times, which haven't
been ordinary for a long time.

It's possible that it was his mother's time to die in any case, but why did
it have to be such a humiliating death, on the floor of a van at the
checkpoint? How many more such articles will still be written, and how many
times will the Israel Defense Forces explain that "humanitarian cases" are
allowed to pass through the checkpoint, an explanation that repeatedly
contrasts with reality? On Monday three weeks ago, Kamela Kabha, 78, died
that way at the Reihan (Barta'a) checkpoint, while her son Tawfik pleaded
for her life.

The situation in Barta'a is misleading. There are about 5,000 residents in
the eastern part of town, and about 3,500 in the western part - residents of
the territories and Israeli citizens, respectively. An imaginary border
passes between them. Israel built the separation fence east of the town, to
annex more settlements, which actually has brought economic benefit to
Barta'a - shopping on Saturday and very cheap dentists for Israelis - and
therefore some people are pleased with the fence. But the town has been cut
off from its natural surroundings and the main city, Jenin, and has become
an enclave: Residents are not allowed to go to Israel, and it's hard to
reach Jenin via the checkpoint, to work, shop or see a doctor.        
    
During recent months, the main contact the Palestinians have had at the
Reihan checkpoint, which closes in on Barta'a from the east, has been with
the employees of a private security company. The residents miss the soldiers
who were there before: With them, they say, you could sometimes talk.
Instead the tough guys from the private firm came, with rifles and dogs, and
the treatment, say residents, has become even more inhumane.

Recently we saw the men. The one responsible for the checkpoint on behalf of
the security company, Charlie, spoke in a tone of authority: "Lots of people
are waiting at the checkpoint? What's the problem with that? Do I owe you an
accounting? What, are you a supervisor from the Defense Ministry?"

That evening Kamela didn't feel well. A heavy woman, she had suffered
recently from high blood pressure and too much sugar. Her children gathered
around her and her son, Tawfik, a member of the town council, called the
doctor, who decided she should be rushed to the hospital in Jenin. But it
was already late and the Reihan checkpoint closes at 10:45 P.M. Even if the
guards would open the checkpoint, the family knew they would have to stop at
the Dotan checkpoint, which is locked up tight at night. The doctor
therefore recommended that they wait until morning.

Kamela's condition worsened and at 6 A.M. Tawfik, who is also in charge of
coordination and liaison with the IDF on behalf of the council, began to
phone the Office of Coordination and Liaison, in Salem. "My mother is ill
and I want an ambulance to come and take us to Jenin," he explained to the
woman clerk at the office. "Get back to me in a few minutes."

In order to allow a Red Crescent ambulance from Jenin to go to Barta'a,
there must be coordination. About a month ago at a meeting with the Israeli
official in charge of the liaison headquarters, Tawfik and other council
members were promised that emergency vehicles, ambulances and firetrucks
would be allowed to pass through the Reihan checkpoint quickly.

Tawfik says he phoned the headquarters five or six times about his mother,
and each time was given the runaround: "I'm checking," said the clerk.
Kamela, like all residents of Barta'a, had a permanent transit permit for
passing through the checkpoint - "for entry and staying, including sleeping
in a closed military area, the seam area, declaration No. 02/03." Tawfik
gave the clerk the details.

Meanwhile he also called the Red Crescent offices in Jenin and ordered an
ambulance. The ambulance arrived at the checkpoint at about 7 A.M. The
security firm's employees did not allow it to pass. The ambulance waited for
almost an hour, until it was forced to return to Jenin.

What happened at the checkpoint was described by the paramedic, Said
al-Atrash, in testimony that appears on the B'Tselem Web site: "At about
6:50 A.M. I set out with my colleague Faiz in the direction of the Barta'a
crossing. We arrived at about 7:05 and advanced to the gate because we knew
that the crossing had been coordinated. Several guards demanded that we move
back. We drove in reverse and stopped at a distance of 20 meters from the
crossing. We thought that we were only waiting until they finished checking
the vehicle in front of us, and then they would call us ...

"About 25-30 minutes after we arrived, we contacted our headquarters. Faiz,
who knows Hebrew well, approached the gate on foot to try to convince the
officer in charge to allow us to pass ... but they didn't agree ... Before
we left the place in the direction of Jenin a volunteer from Machsom Watch
arrived and asked us why we were there. We told her we were trying to pass
through to evacuate a sick woman whose life was in danger. The woman made a
call on her cell phone and at the same time one of the guards signaled to
her to approach the gate. When we reached the gate, the official from the
security firm told us to go back. We decided to return to Jenin."

Meanwhile Kamela's breathing became increasingly difficult. Tawfik again
told the clerk that his mother was in serious condition and she again told
him to phone back. With her last ounce of strength, the mother begged her
sons: "Take me to the hospital." The situation was desperate. In the absence
of any other solution, Tawfik contacted one of the village men who has a
Volkswagen Transporter and asked him to come to evacuate his dying mother.

The sons dismantled the seats, carried their mother on a mattress and placed
her on the floor of the vehicle. It was almost 9 A.M.; three hours had
passed since the first phone call to the liaison office. They arrived at the
checkpoint some time later - the dying Kamela and her son, her daughter, her
sister, and the driver of the Transporter.

A female security guard asked the driver for his papers and permits. Tawfik
turned to the guard: "Do me a favor, my mother is dying. Hurry a little."
The minutes passed. Tawfik recalls: "I behaved like a crazy man." The driver
opened the door of the vehicle to show the guard the dying woman. "Look at
her, she'll die at the checkpoint," shouted the son.

Charlie's angels were in no rush. Munir, the Civil Administration officer,
arrived after hearing the shouts of the desperate son. About 20 minutes
passed until the checking of the permits was completed.

When the officer Munir saw the woman's condition, he himself quickly ordered
the ambulance from Jenin - the same one that had not been allowed to pass
through about two hours earlier, also apparently at his orders. The
ambulance set off and meanwhile the Transporter was finally allowed to cross
the checkpoint on the way to Jenin.

Kamela died about 100 meters after they passed the checkpoint. Tawfik says
that he called Munir so he could see what had happened. The ambulance from
Jenin arrived as well, and the medical team could only pronounce the woman's
death. On the way back in the Transporter with the body, the guards once
again asked for the permits, including that of the deceased woman. Tawfik
says that he spoke to Charlie, who said: "I'm not responsible for this, the
army runs the checkpoint." Munir also told him: "I'm not responsible for
this, the security firm runs the checkpoint."

Says Tawfik: "I'm not interested who's responsible ... What's important to
me is that it doesn't happen again. That the world sees what they're doing
to us."

After we relayed the details of the incident to Physicians for Human Rights,
the association's researcher, Ibrahim Habib, sent a harsh letter of
complaint to the Military Advocate General, Brigadier General Avihai
Mandelblit: "In light of the unfortunate outcome of the incident, and in
order to prevent a repetition of such incidents in the future, we ask that
you investigate the behavior of the soldiers and the security guards at the
checkpoint and at the Salem liaison office, including the officer who
answers to the name Munir, and to try those responsible."

The IDF spokesman replied: "The IDF expressed its regret to the family of
Kamela Kabha and clarified the procedures among the soldiers at the
checkpoint and among all the forces operating in the sector. In this case,
the ambulance was in fact delayed for over an hour until the required escort
force arrived. The investigation of the incident did not result in an
unequivocal conclusion regarding the connection between the delay at the
crossing and the death of the woman."

Kamela is not alone. In Barta'a they can tell of Khabab Kabha, a woman in
labor who was forced to give birth about two months ago at this checkpoint,
after being refused permission to cross late in the evening; about Hosni
Kabha, 48, who about a year and a half ago suffered a heart attack at the
checkpoint after he was delayed there; and about Leila Ibrahim, who returned
from the hospital after a Caesarean section, and was forced to cross the
checkpoint on foot and to stand for hours in the examination rooms.

Since the security firm began working at the checkpoint, they say in
Barta'a, people are sometimes delayed for hours, standing in cramped
examination rooms. On a Sunday a few weeks ago we met Hayfa Kabha, in her
eighth month and carrying twins, who says she stood for over an hour in the
room, without being able to sit. She left for the hospital in Jenin early in
the morning for tests, and returned at about 1:30 P.M., after the security
check, exhausted. That same day others told us that they had been delayed
between one and two hours at the checkpoint, on their way home.

Kamela's funeral was also delayed. After they brought her body back to
Barta'a, they waited for about two hours until her sisters could receive
permits to pass through the checkpoint and get to the funeral. "God will
help," says Tawfik, citing his mother's last words, and adds, "God will help
at the checkpoint."

When we returned there with him the following Sunday, we saw Charlie. Armed
with dark glasses, he ignored us. "At least he could have shaken my hand,"
added Tawfik, "and told me that he shares my sorrow."

barta'a is a village that i saw with an invisible border, right through the middle of town. no checkpoint there, but if any palestinian is found on the other side he is immediately sent to prison for a minimum of two months. later there is a checkpoint that goes deeper into the west bank. this is where i could not cross on monday, so i went to jalame checkpoint (further north) where i could practically see jenin. again there they would not let me pass. so i took a twelve hour detour to make it to jenin by 10 am the following day. i passed through several checkpoint and saw at one there was a group of women from machsomwatch! yeah! we passed through quickly, and everyone in the car was happy because the day before there was a four hour wait. undoubtedly, the women heard of this and made their presence known. too late for the people travelling yesterday, and alleviating some suffering today. i asked the palestinians in the van with me what they thought about the women, and they only shook their heads. they dont want the women there. they dont want the fucking soldiers there! it is still obviously humiliating that one has to pass through a checkpoint every 20 minutes to travel in your own land.