Impressions from A-Ram 2

The main square of A-Ram is actually a traffic circle in the middle of one big traffic jam. This street - a major shopping area in the neighborhood that numbers 60,000 inhabitants – is especially bustling on the Eve of Ramadan. Everything is crowded and buzzing and cars honk to high heaven. Still, there is something quiet going on that catches one’s eye in the heart of this tiny square. There, under a small tarpaulin, stand a table and some chairs. A thin stream of people passes by the table. Women and men present their IDs, sit and fill out forms. A green-black-red poster summons them to register and make a difference. Yes, this is the registry for voting in the upcoming elections to the local councils and the Palestinian parliament, and one should hurry since today is the last day of registration.

 

A look at the square and the bustling street might create the wrong impression of normal life and popular democracy in action. But whoever climbs up to one of the neighborhood roofs gets an entirely different picture. A huge concrete snake is closing in on A-Ram. A high wall surrounds it from the West and East. 100 meters away from the square where people are registering, at the main crossroads called A-Ram Junction, there is still a passage in the wall. This is the last opening, and it too will be closed soon. A-Ram is a large prison yard undergoing its final stages of construction.

 

Were we to lift off and get a bird’s eye view, the picture would be even more depressing. The tarpaulin and table at the heart of the square are the only spot in all of Palestinian Jerusalem where one might register to vote. This is for the simple reason that the Israeli government has closed all registration offices in Jerusalem. Israel regularly criticizes the lack of democratic practice among the Palestinians and in Arab countries. It also places all the responsibility for the Palestinians’ situation upon their leadership, claiming that no change can come until it is replaced. But when it comes to the democratic procedure of elections, Israel reacts in its usual manner. The Jerusalem offices have been closed because the case in point is “our united, eternal capital”. Throughout the rest of the Occupied Territories one could register to vote, having crossed 700 barriers, dirt obstacles, ditches, and barbed wire fences scattered all through the West Bank. But the option of running proper elections under conditions of occupation and closure, and tank fire, does not seem especially feasible. This is also why even upon closing registration, there is no final date yet for the actual voting.

 

In the meantime, at the square, a new happening. A demonstration. Some dozens of people hold signs standing close among the cars that are stuck in the jam anyway. Fadel Ta’abubi, of the Palestinian Forum for Peace and Democracy, has come with residents of the Old City, Silouan, and Wadi Joz, in a symbolic act of protest. They represent all those who would like to register to vote, want to vote, make a difference, but Israel denies them this right. They are joined by A-Ram’s local council chief, Sirhan Saleime and some of his men, and by us, several Taayush activists. A protest.

 

Everything is calm. As old acquaintances, we hold a warm conversation, joined by those coming to register as well as passers-by. The registration is run smoothly. The traffic jam is stuck, nothing moves. The contrast between this protest rally and the previous demonstration that was held in front of the bulldozers –when those were still erecting the wall – is sharp. No tear gas, no violence against the demonstrators. Not a soldier in sight. The truth is that Sharon’s government couldn’t care less about a protest here, inside the A-Ram ghetto. The government doesn’t care nor do the army or the Israeli public care about what will happen here. So schools will be closed, people won’t reach hospitals, families will be split, let them stand forever in a traffic jam, let them starve. Just let them do this behind concrete walls, where no one sees them. So let them register to vote, in their little square. Why not, let them elect their own ghetto administration.

 

Time to say goodbye. Sirhan’s council is busy with final preparations for Ramadan between the walls. Fadel hurries off to an intimate lecture at a Negev kibbutz, and we of Taayush are receiving phone calls from Budrus which is under curfew, and about the olive harvest which is being sabotaged by the army and the settlers. We promise to meet again and persist in our joint protest. We’ll be back in A-Ram. Perhaps eventually someone will listen.

 

Yigal Broner