by David Blair
The Telegraph
The village of Jbara nestles on a hillside, overlooking a fertile valley lined with olive groves. Its 300 Palestinians believe they inhabit the most scenic prison in the world.
A new Israeli military order forces them to seek permission to live in their own homes. It declares Jbara part of a "closed zone" and states that all movement in and out of the area requires a permit. Any visiting relative needs a licence. All of these permissions are granted at the whim of the Israeli army and are routinely denied.
Fourteen other villages, where 12,000 Palestinians live, are trapped in this zone, where every aspect of life comes under Israeli military control.
Last Wednesday, the Israeli civil administration officer in charge of the area summoned Sadiq Oudeh, 47, Jbara's deputy mayor. He showed the Palestinian a bundle of permits, valid for 12 months, allowing the people of Jbara to stay in their homes. But there were no permits for 20 of the inhabitants, including Mr Oudeh, and he refused to accept any of them.
The "closed zone" falls between Israel's security fence to the east and the "green line", marking the boundary of the West Bank. Designed to exclude Palestinian suicide bombers by sealing the West Bank from Israel, the fence will eventually be 370 miles long. About 100 miles of it is complete and much of it veers east of the green line, deep inside Palestinian land. Jbara is two miles inside the West Bank, but on the Israeli side of the fence, trapped in the "closed zone".
From beneath the minaret of the village mosque, Jbara's new boundaries are clearly visible. One mile to the east, the giant gash of barbed wire forming the security fence curves across the landscape. Two miles to the west, a winding track patrolled by Israeli armoured cars denotes the green line.
These landmarks have become prison walls. The "declaration in the matter of closing territory" issued by Maj-Gen Moshe Kaplinski, commander of Israeli forces in the West Bank, states: "No person will enter [the closed zone] and no one will remain there."
To gain exemption everyone living in the zone above the age of 16 needs permission, renewable every year. Mr Oudeh believes that Israel intends to clear the "closed zone" of Palestinians and then annex it. "They don't want to expel us by force. They want to put pressure on us to leave of our own will," he said.
As the fence grows, so will the "closed zone" and the number of Palestinians affected will climb into the tens of thousands.
The order has caused immense hardship in Jbara. There is no legal way for Anas, 22, to reach his workplace in Taiybe, just beyond the green line. On most days, he rises at 4am and walks two miles over the hills, running the gauntlet of Israeli patrols to reach Taiybe village illegally.
Annas, which is not his real name, must take this risk to support his parents and siblings by picking grapes and figs. "I am not frightened. There is no way to live except this," he said.
Farouq Awad, 36, lives in fear that his three children, aged between three and eight, may fall ill and he may be unable to take them to hospital in the nearby town of Tulkarm.
"They are pushing, pushing and pushing us and this will make an explosion," he said. "How will I say to my children we can live with Israelis in peace when they are doing this?"
The Telegraph
The village of Jbara nestles on a hillside, overlooking a fertile valley lined with olive groves. Its 300 Palestinians believe they inhabit the most scenic prison in the world.
A new Israeli military order forces them to seek permission to live in their own homes. It declares Jbara part of a "closed zone" and states that all movement in and out of the area requires a permit. Any visiting relative needs a licence. All of these permissions are granted at the whim of the Israeli army and are routinely denied.
Fourteen other villages, where 12,000 Palestinians live, are trapped in this zone, where every aspect of life comes under Israeli military control.
Last Wednesday, the Israeli civil administration officer in charge of the area summoned Sadiq Oudeh, 47, Jbara's deputy mayor. He showed the Palestinian a bundle of permits, valid for 12 months, allowing the people of Jbara to stay in their homes. But there were no permits for 20 of the inhabitants, including Mr Oudeh, and he refused to accept any of them.
The "closed zone" falls between Israel's security fence to the east and the "green line", marking the boundary of the West Bank. Designed to exclude Palestinian suicide bombers by sealing the West Bank from Israel, the fence will eventually be 370 miles long. About 100 miles of it is complete and much of it veers east of the green line, deep inside Palestinian land. Jbara is two miles inside the West Bank, but on the Israeli side of the fence, trapped in the "closed zone".
From beneath the minaret of the village mosque, Jbara's new boundaries are clearly visible. One mile to the east, the giant gash of barbed wire forming the security fence curves across the landscape. Two miles to the west, a winding track patrolled by Israeli armoured cars denotes the green line.
These landmarks have become prison walls. The "declaration in the matter of closing territory" issued by Maj-Gen Moshe Kaplinski, commander of Israeli forces in the West Bank, states: "No person will enter [the closed zone] and no one will remain there."
To gain exemption everyone living in the zone above the age of 16 needs permission, renewable every year. Mr Oudeh believes that Israel intends to clear the "closed zone" of Palestinians and then annex it. "They don't want to expel us by force. They want to put pressure on us to leave of our own will," he said.
As the fence grows, so will the "closed zone" and the number of Palestinians affected will climb into the tens of thousands.
The order has caused immense hardship in Jbara. There is no legal way for Anas, 22, to reach his workplace in Taiybe, just beyond the green line. On most days, he rises at 4am and walks two miles over the hills, running the gauntlet of Israeli patrols to reach Taiybe village illegally.
Annas, which is not his real name, must take this risk to support his parents and siblings by picking grapes and figs. "I am not frightened. There is no way to live except this," he said.
Farouq Awad, 36, lives in fear that his three children, aged between three and eight, may fall ill and he may be unable to take them to hospital in the nearby town of Tulkarm.
"They are pushing, pushing and pushing us and this will make an explosion," he said. "How will I say to my children we can live with Israelis in peace when they are doing this?"
