July 27, 2001 South Bend Tribune, South Bend, Indiana 



Ex-resident sees abuse inflicted at checkpoint



Michiana Point of View

By Lenore VanderZee 

"If you do that next time, I'll shoot you." 



I used to say that to my brother when he was

particularly bothersome. Of course I never meant it.



But if those words come from a young man dressed in a

flak jacket and with his finger on the trigger of an

M-16, their meaning cannot be misinterpreted.



As a journalist in the West Bank, my colleagues and I

encounter roadblocks and checkpoints every few miles.

A trip to a village just a few kilometers away might

take hours. Since I have the dubious privilege of an

American passport and blond hair, the cameramen like

me to drive. "You get more respect," they say.



Usually that is the case, and we pass by the concrete

blocks, jeeps and soldiers with enviable ease.



Not this time.



A cameraman and soundman were traveling with me from

our office in Ramallah, north of Jerusalem in the West

Bank, to villages outside the city to investigate the

lack of water and the reasons behind it. We came

across a checkpoint. There were three soldiers. They

did not wave for me to stop. I slowed, but kept

moving. A quick check in the rearview mirror revealed

three soldiers, guns pointed, screaming at me. I

stopped.



One of the soldiers, a teenaged-looking young man with

a mixture of fear and anger on his face, said through

his teeth: "If you do that next time, I'll shoot you."



Of course the situation could have been, and often is,

much worse. They do shoot, often without warning. A

misinterpreted flick of the wrist on the part of one

of these soldiers could equal a broken light, a

smashed windshield, or much, much worse. We were

lucky, but many are not.



This is just one example of the daily hardship and

humiliation Palestinians have to face. There are

hundreds of checkpoints scattered throughout the

Palestinian territories. They dot the roads that lead

from village to village and from city to city. The

soldiers stationed there are given license to perform

searches and detentions at their discretion, and

disciplinary action for soldiers who abuse their power

is non-existent.



For these reasons, a group of internationals living in

the West Bank have formed a group we call

"International Checkpoint Watch." Under its auspices

we take shifts at checkpoints in the Ramallah area,

observing and documenting abuses that occur there. The

things we see are horrifying: humiliating and

time-consuming searches, beating of men and children,

detentions and arrests take place daily.



Isolated checkpoints, like the one described above,

are the worst. Men are forced to kneel, face in the

dirt, at the side of the road. Sometimes they are

blindfolded and beaten while they are detained. Women

and children are held at gunpoint inside the ovens of

the collective service taxis as searches and

identification card checks are performed.



For residents of the West Bank and Gaza Strip, this

has become the daily monotony of life. But the

normalcy of checkpoints does not impede their ability

to spark despair and even rage among the Palestinians

who endure them. It is especially these Palestinians

who insist that this Intifada has nothing to do with

terrorism and everything to do with their legitimate

right to struggle against occupation.



It is a fight that defies logic: a people with no army

and few arms against an occupying force enjoying the

unabated and unabashed financial and military support

of the United States and other Western powers. But ask

a Palestinian at one of these checkpoints what the

Intifada means to him, and his answer will be simple:

freedom.



Lenore VanderZee is a former resident of South Bend

who lives and works in the West Bank city of Ramallah

as a journalist.