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it sometimes arrives, then many weeks pass without it coming, a
white car with an x-ray machine on it, into the heart of the
occupied territories, arrives at the checkpoints placed deep in
the west bank, chopping the civilians' life with an axe, placed
between palestinians and palestinians, light years from the
green line, between a man and his land, between the child and
his school, her classmate, between a woman and her aging
parents, between a man and his work, a hospital, the garage, the
dentist, between neighbors, enemies; walls and CPs gnawing the
land because they can, in order to take, in order to rob and
give it to the master race, or to just take, to enforce upon
people a reduced life in bigger or smaller enclaves, ghettoes,
forbidden, guilty until proven otherwise, but never proven
otherwise, enclaves surrounded by walls or bypass roads for jews
only, and between prevention cps there for unofficial reasons;
far away in a realm of darkness, away from the israeli public
eye, away from democracy however failing and void, underneath
the words – for after them comes no criticism or questioning or
close scrutiny of the frequent, chewed up cliches of the army's
advertising company: 'for security', is huwara CP, one of the
CPs around nablus, which is completely surrounded, no one
allowed in or out, without the 'permission' of the young
executers of jewish colonialism and occupation.
it arrived then, at huwara checkpoint, it arrived at different
times, it was there on september 27th 2004, it was there on
April 30th 2005 and it was there on january 21st 2006, it was,
and shall be again. |
