Crossing the checkpoint. Or not, as the case may be, part 2

In my previous post, I wrote basic information (and thoughts) about the checkpoint process. About a week ago, I had my own specific and frustrating experience with the main Bethlehem checkpoint (called variously CP 300, Bethlehem CP or Gilo CP)

One afternoon, three of us were going through CP300 to meet with Efrat of Ta’ayush to go then to An Nu’man CP (yet another, very specific and specialized kind of checkpoint that we also monitor). It was 1:15pm and we were already running just a few minutes late. We passed through the first turnstile with no problems. But, then we got stuck in the terminal at the metal detectors. Hannah and Giselher were in one line and I in another. My line was moving at first, theirs was stopped. But, then, my line stopped (there were a lot of people/kids part of groups). I couldn’t decide if I should just jump over into the other line or stay where I was (after all, I was about half-way through my line and the other one wasn’t moving either). I sent Hannah a text message asking about the status of their line; she told me they were stuck too, so I stayed in place.

It seems the metal detector was having mechanical problems (poor girl who was stuck in the detector area!), so they finally closed the booth (after about 20 minutes). We then all moved to the other line (and jostled with each other to get the best place in this long line. Some people jumped in as close to the front as they could (after all, they'd also been waiting in line for a long time, why should they now end up in the back of the line?), others formed a big blob at the end and tried to jockey for a better position.

All told, I was in line for an hour and but I never did make it through. At first I was patient and resigned about it all, but as time went on and the line wasn’t moving, I became more irritated and even angry. Why? I realized later that it was because I was embarrassed to be so late to meet with Efrat; that she was having to wait for us. I felt awful about that. I talked to her once and sent her a couple of text messages, so she knew (and she said, “no worries”), but I was still concerned.


Finally, in great frustration, I left the line and went home (Hannah and Giselher had been through for about 30 minutes by that time); I sent the others on with Efrat to make our visit.

It was a taste of the frustration and annoyance that Palestinians deal with all the time.