Letter from Bethlehem (42)

Toine van Teeffelen

December 19, 2002

This last week Bethlehem had a period of three "half-open" days, from Saturday 12 till Tuesday 15 with opening hours from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, then three successive days with a 24-hour curfew, and now Friday and Saturday again opening hours from eight till four. To make things more complicate, it has become customary to all the time face rumours and changes in the opening announcements. For instance, Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning gave us no less than three changes: first an announcement that next day would have opening hours, then a change into full curfew, then a new announcement of opening hours, and then a change once again into curfew. After expressing regret for the changes, the Palestinian liaison committee declared, according to the local TV subtitling: "You may choose yourself whether you want to go out during the curfew or not." In fact, Beit Sahouris went early morning to town assuming that the town was open. That was not the case, and the army started to collect them in the market. All over the area, administrators went crazy. School buses went out to come back without the kids. Today it happened that military jeeps – always with their ugly creaky sounds, sirens and honking - announced that the closing hour would not be at four but at one-thirty. But at one-thirty everybody stayed on the street and the military turned out not to enforce the curfew that was supposed to take place. Obviously, it's all a play with people's nerves. Welcome to the land where you cannot plan, even not for the next hour.

Briefly after closing time, Mary, together with Jara, at one point found herself on the street facing a military jeep. She had a couple of plastic bags in the arm and told one of the soldiers that she just went out of the house to throw away the garbage. When that story didn't look credible because the bags were full of food, she improvised once again and told the other soldier that she went out to buy medicines for Jara. "Go and buy your things and turn immediately back gome," was the response. Mary: "Yes, tomorrow." Jara, half anxious, half proud, went to relate the happenings to her aunt and grandmother.

Next day I was working at home when the bell rang. Two men and a child were standing in the porch of our house to hide themselves for the military who were making checks opposite 'Azza camp. I invited the passers by to come in but there was no need. Later on Mary told me not to invite strangers to come in, never. "They may be political activists and in case soldiers would find them in our house, our house would be destroyed." Just a few days ago it happened to a well-known peace activist in Beit Jala involved in Palestinian-Israeli exchanges that without his knowledge a tenant in his house had given refuge to Tanzim militants. His five-storey house was on the verge of being completely destroyed (in fact, the walls of his garden already were, as various pieces of furniture inside) when, according to Haaretz, at the very last moment the American consulate paid a frantic phone call to the army who then stopped the demolition. This peace activist fortunately maintained relations with many people abroad including Hillary Clinton.

A few days ago, during curfew time, I noticed outside two cars parked in the middle of the street. Apparently their drivers were arrested, the car keys confiscated, and the cars left exactly at the place where they were forced to stop. The present curfew is, I feel, a little different from the previous ones in spring and summer. More people go out, don't always take the curfew seriously, but the army also reacts stronger with arrests, beatings, teargas and – in case of cars being stopped – the confiscation of car keys. Or the car keys are thrown in the bushes or in another inaccessible place. Also, more shops open their doors than during the previous curfew periods. In reaction soldiers enter shops, fire teargas or throw things on the ground. This happened for instance a week ago in a supermarket on the way to Beit Jala after the owner dismissed a remark of the soldiers to "only sell to Christians."

All in all, it is no surprise that few people are in the mood for the Christmas celebrations. The main feelings are sadness and anger. For the coming week various civil society organizations have in fact made announcements for non-violent prayers, demonstrations and marches on December 24 (the entry of the Patriarch into Bethlehem), December 25 (the candlelight demonstration from Beit Sahour to the Jerusalem-Bethlehem checkpoint), December 28 (march of the Innocent Children) and December 31 (Justice and Peace march inside Bethlehem).