By Holger Jensen
Rocky Mountain News .. www.rockymountainnew.com
12/26/01
Christmas is not joyous in the Holy Land.
If Joseph and Mary were to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem, normally a 90-mile
road trip, they would have to detour through Jenin, Nablus, Ramallah and
Jerusalem. It's doubtful they'd ever reach Bethlehem because Israeli soldiers
probably wouldn't let them through.
There are more than 150 military checkpoints in the West Bank. All entry and
exit routes, even footpaths and dirt roads, are manned by security forces and
closed to most Palestinian travelers. Many towns and villages are completely
sealed off and under 24-hour or dusk-to-dawn curfews.
The roads around them are blocked to auto traffic by trenches or concrete
barriers. Palestinians who try to get around them on foot are shot at.
Would Mary, a pregnant woman, be allowed to pass through one of these
roadblocks?
One month ago, Fatima Abed Rabbo and her husband tried to reach the hospital in
Bethlehem. Fatima was seven months pregnant and in labor. Soldiers at military
checkpoints twice refused to let them through, saying Fatima's condition was not
critical. After waiting about one hour at one checkpoint Fatima gave birth to a
son in her car.
The premature baby, Walid, weighed only 3 pounds, had a low body temperature and
required urgent medical attention. But, by the time the family finally reached
the hospital in Bethlehem, it was too late. Walid died soon after being
admitted.
If they did reach Bethlehem, Joseph and Mary wouldn't have to stay in a manger.
There are plenty of rooms. The city's numerous tourist hotels, normally crammed
with pilgrims at this time of the year, are begging for business. Some have had
so few bookings they've let their staff go and shut down. Others are shelled or
burnt. The Nativity Church where Jesus was born is empty.
While the world sings "Peace on Earth," the Palestinians in Bethlehem are not
allowed to go to work, school or hospitals. There may be a "little star of
Bethlehem" somewhere above them, but also Apache helicopters.
This gloomy "Christmas Letter," which I've paraphrased, was written by Arjan el
Fassad of the Palestinian Society for the Protection of Human Rights and Annete
Meeuiws of the Jerusalem Center for Social and Economic Rights. It is not an
exaggeration.
There is no question that Israel has suffered suicide bombings and other
devastating terrorist attacks since Palestinians launched their intifada, or
uprising, 15 months ago. And there is no denying that most of these attacks
originated in the occupied territories. But is collective punishment the answer?
Should 3.2 million people, most of them not terrorists, be penalized for the
sins of a few?
Aid groups and human rights workers in the West Bank and Gaza Strip say military
sieges and economic blockades have caused a humanitarian crisis.
Because people and goods can no longer travel freely between Palestinian towns
and villages, they are beginning to suffer shortages of gasoline, food and
medical supplies. Uncollected garbage and sewage pose a mounting public health
hazard. Vaccinations and primary health care systems are paralyzed, increasing
the risk of epidemics.
Most universities and schools are not functioning. More than 50 percent of the
population is unemployed and many of those who still have jobs often can't reach
them. About 30 Palestinians have died because they were denied access to medical
care. And there have been numerous reports of women giving birth at checkpoints.
Val Phillips, a physics student at the University of Colorado at Denver, is one
of five Coloradans who decided to give up Christmas at home to go and tear down
barricades in the West Bank. You can call her a "peacenik" or "Nazi," as some
Jewish settlers did in one confrontation with the Colorado Coalition for Mideast
Peace, but you have to admire her dedication.
Since Val's arrival Dec. 14, she has lain in front of advancing Israeli tanks,
had shots fired over her head by Israeli soldiers, been attacked by militant
settlers and had pizza with Yasser Arafat. She has also torn down one barrier
outside a Palestinian village only to see an Israeli bulldozer build another
one.
"People here are so depressed but so grateful for what we're doing," Val told me
by phone. "It shows them another face of America, one that actually cares about
what's happening to them."