May 24, 2003

This morning Elizabeth proctored her 8th grade exam. The 8th and 9th graders all sit up in the auditorium, seated well away from any other student taking the same test. In spite of this, there are still kids, out of desperation or habit - or perhaps the thrill of a challenge - who try to cheat. So the proctor's job is never easy. At the end of the two hours, Elizabeth felt confident that little got past her and her colleague.

Once the papers were in, we caught a south-bound shared taxi on our way to Jerusalem. It was a bit late, but no matter, we piled in and off we went. In Tubas, the car stopped, and everyone but us got out and went into a little office along the main road. They all bought official PA permission papers to travel from the King Hussein Bridge into Jordan. Of course, none of them was going to the bridge. But, being from the northern West Bank (as marked in their IDs), they need to have some kind of official paperwork to travel to the southern West Bank, and the bridge permission is apparently the easiest and cheapest option. It would be like needing special government permission to travel from your home in Wheaton into Chicago, and getting permission to go to Canada to do so.

At our first checkpoint, the papers served their purpose, and we proceeded onto the Jordan Valley Road. Not for long, though. At another checkpoint, not 30 minutes later, we were stopped. The soldier asked for IDs and permissions. He asked the ones with travel permissions for their passports. Two had their Palestinian passports; three didn't. We were told that those with passports could continue along the Jordan Valley; those without could not. Splitting up wasn't really an option, there not being any cars to take the other group; plus the driver certainly wanted to get his fare from all of us. So we all clambered back in the hot minivan, wondering why the three men hadn't brought a passport to back up their "we're traveling over the King Hussein Bridge" story. If you're gonna lie, lie...

Our car turned off the highway onto backroads; luckily we were past Nablus, so the surface roads and trails could get us to Qalandia checkpoint between Jerusalem and Ramallah. From there, we took another shared taxi to Jerusalem, where we walked and walked to St. Andrews guesthouse.

The iconic Damascus Gate, one of the entry points for Jerusalem’s Old City.

The plaza outside Damascus Gate is usually bustling with goods for sale.

After cleaning up and a rest, we went back out to meet our good friend Germana, whom we'd met last spring in Lebanon. We are very excited that she's here, serving a term with CPT in Hebron. We had set Damascus Gate as our meeting spot; it was interesting to wait there, amid the hustle and bustle of the market - things almost seemed normal.

Germana came and another friend met us and drove us to the Philadelphia, a lovely outdoor restaurant, where we enjoyed good food and fellowship. Germana told us how bad things are getting in Hebron, not only for the residents but also now for the CPTers, one of whom has been arrested and is being held in an Israeli prison. He was arrested for going from H2 (the Israeli military controlled part of town where CPTers live) into H1, the PA controlled part of town. The team had been told that they must now obey curfew like the Palestinians, and unlike the settlers. They are also no longer allowed to go on school patrols (in which they accompany students to school during curfew, since they are technically - but often not actually - allowed to attend school during curfew). And anyone caught going out of H2 will be arrested and deported. They asked for a written copy of the military order, and were told to fax a request for one. But they don't have a fax machine, and there are no fax services in H2.

Much of CPT's ministry over the past nine years in Hebron has been helping children get to school and people in need (of medical attention, medicine, food, etc.) during curfews. Their presence, by invitation of the mayor of Hebron, has helped to reduce at least some of the tensions and the unbelievable oppression facing Palestinians there. She told us that the closures are now so tight that in order to get out of Hebron, she had to walk through underground tunnels.

Hebron, as usual, defies reason.