Checkpoints

I'm sure that my faithful blog readers have been dying to know what it's like for me to pass through a military checkpoint every day. What, exactly, does one do when passing through a military checkpoint? (And why would someone ever choose to do it every day?) I am quite aware that this could turn into a controversial political conversation about the need for checkpoints or the need for a separation barrier or the suffering of the Palestinians, etc. etc. Personally, checkpoints are not my favorite place in the world to hang out, and some days I feel that each checkpoint crossing takes another 6 months off of my life. Some days I get so angry that it takes me several hours to recover from the crossing. But, let's try to keep this post light, shall we? You don't all need to know about my anger problems or anything else. This, hopefully, will be an educational post to give you an idea of what checkpoints are like. And while there are many checkpoints between the West Bank and Israeli territory, as well as within the West Bank itself, I will focus on the Bethlehem 300 (Rachel's Tomb) checkpoint.

This is a (very) rough sketch of the Bethlehem checkpoint. I know, my Paint skills are incredible. I kept it this unprofessional just in case I really am being spied on. There's no way that anyone could accuse me of passing along dangerous information with this drawing. :) (Just for reference, the dark boxes are soldier's booths, the x's are turnstiles, and the arrows are directions of traffic. The numbered areas are different smaller checkpoints within the checkpoint.)

When approaching the checkpoint from the Bethlehem side, this is what you see:

There is a big wall and a long line stretching about 100 meters. I'm not really sure how to describe the path that you walk down--I always call it "the cattle stalls" because I feel a bit like an animal being contained in a holding pen until I can cross checkpoint #1 (labeled on my drawing).


Here is a view of the inside of the middle "stall." I thought the smoke made for a dramatic touch photographically, and it also adds a nice picture of reality. When you're stuck in line here and 40% of the men are smoking, or even just one person who is standing in your close vicinity, there's no way to escape. Many days I have arrived to the university smelling like I, myself, smoked 6 packs just that morning.

There are three "lanes" or stalls or whatever leading up to the checkpoint #1. I have labelled them with arrows that signify which direction they go: the one closest to the wall is for those coming in to Bethlehem, while the two outer ones are for those leaving to go into Jerusalem.

When the checkpoint is crowded (mostly early in the morning), the men use the middle lane and women, children, old people, sick people on their way to the hospital, and tourists use the "express" lane. Many mornings when I have crossed I have seen the line of men (2-3 across within the lane) stretching all the way back to the taxi area. On those days, I'm so glad that I can use the lane for women.

Of course, there are no signs telling you if the middle lane is crowded with men or is open (it's impossible to see all the way in from the entrance by the taxis) and there is also no sign at the bottom telling you if the women/elderly/tourist lane is open or not. There are turnstiles at the top (the x's on the diagram), and if they aren't open (they are controlled by the soldiers who sit in the blue boxes on the diagram--every dark box is a station where soldiers sit), you have to wait until the soldier unlocks it for you. Some days, for reasons beyond my imagination, they decide not to open the women/elderly/tourist checkpoint. Which is always frustrating because I usually find that out after walking all the way up. As there is no way to cross from the tourist lane into the middle lane at the top, I have to walk all the way back down to the bottom and then back up through the middle lane. On rainy days this inspires less than happy thoughts from me.

On days that the women/elderly lane (I will call this lane #3) is closed because the middle lane is open and free, you just walk up the middle lane, pass through checkpoint #1, and continue to the next one. However, some days lane #3 is closed but there are still lots and lots of men filling lane #2. Thankfully, it doesn't happen that often, but when it does there is a "rule of chivalry" that states that women get to pass through to the front of the line. Although I'm sure not every man is thrilled with this "rule," if there are women standing at the back of the line the sea of men will part and allow the women to pass through. If some men don't see (or don't want to move) and the women (there are usually only 1-4 at a time) have to stop, a man standing by will always shout, "Clear the way, guys, we have some women coming through." It is always incredibly embarrassing and incredibly gratifying at the same time. I will be the first to admit that there are a lot of problems regarding the treatment of women in the Middle East. But this idea that women should not have to wait in line with hundreds of men but instead should cut to the front is an awesome one, in my opinion. And although I was terrified the first time I had to pass through a narrow space surrounded by hundreds of men, knowing how vulnerable I was, they always press themselves against the side and try to give us as much space as possible so we can pass through without touching anyone or being touched.

When you get to checkpoint #1, there is a soldier sitting in a booth (don't worry, it's completely enclosed and bullet-proof, giving as little contact as possible with those passing through) to whom you show your id/passport. This is more of a "just checking to make sure you have it before you go through to the next stations" kind of checkpoint. And if it's possible to have a favorite checkpoint soldier, there is a soldier who is often at this checkpoint in the morning that is my favorite. He speaks Arabic (most of the soldiers don't) and stands outside of the booth checking ids. He greets the people coming through (in Arabic) and is usually smiling. And whenever I go through he says "morning," in English, all nice and pleasant like. 

After checkpoint number one, you walk across an empty parking lot and enter building #2.

You walk down some more lanes and enter the area of checkpoint #2. Checkpoint #2's area is divided into three different checkpoints, all of which lead to the same place. Here, again, when there are lots of men in the morning, the women duck through separator bars and cut to the front of the lines. The men step back and clear the way for the women (usually just one or two in each line at a time--mostly men cross early in the morning), which, again, is great and saves me so much time and frustration.

Usually, the wait time at the turnstile at checkpoint #2 is short and predictable. The soldiers (who can't be seen from the line waiting outside the turnstile, as they sit in the booths inside; don't worry, they can see everything going on because there are cameras everywhere) open the turnstile, let three people through, and then lock it while they put their stuff on a conveyor belt scanner and pass through a metal detector, grab their stuff, and proceed to checkpoint #3. If there are any problems, the soldiers get on the loudspeaker from inside the booth and tell the person to go through again, take the belt off, it's the shoes, etc. Sometimes they even do it in Arabic, although I think most of them only know a few key phrases ("one at a time!" seems to be the most popular Arabic phrase spoken here).

Sometimes, however, for reasons that none of us are made aware of, there is a wait at checkpoint #2. Maybe the soldiers are switching posts. Maybe they need a bathroom break. Maybe they are just tired of sitting there and need to walk around. But whatever the reasoning, they don't say anything. They just keep the turnstile locked, and all of us outside the turnstile get more and more restless. If this were a customer service situation, I would suggest that they announce over the loudspeaker that there will be a delay of about 10 minutes and they apologize for the inconvenience. But it's not a customer service situation, it's a military checkpoint, so I guess such a suggestion is unnecessary.

Once you get through checkpoint #2, you proceed to checkpoint #3. This checkpoint has the least delays. The Palestinians have a magnetic id and a paper permit that shows that they are allowed to cross into Jerusalem. They put their id on the magnetic strip, hold up their paper to the window (the soldiers are sitting in booths), and sometimes have to put their hand on the fingerprint reader. The magnetic card reader allows all of the information and picture of the person to show up on the soldier's computer screen, and if everything is ok they are cleared to go through. Foreigners show their passport and visa stamp and are then also allowed to pass through.

Some mornings go smoothly and I get through in less than 10 minutes. But some mornings, by the time I get through I'm ready to go to bed and wish the day was over already!

Has anyone else ever been through checkpoints (besides airport security)? And what was it like?