KEY POINTS:
When my son Amr, who's 4, asks me why troops are blocking our way, I search for a proper answer to pacify the curious child. But in vain.
"Why don't you just ram the checkpoint. We've been here a long time," Amr kept asking after a rare visit to my parents in the northern West Bank city of Jenin, about 100km from our home in Ramallah, in the centre of the territory.
On the way back to Ramallah last month, we encountered four fortified checkpoints, turning what might otherwise be an hour's drive into a journey of five. Sometimes, our trip can take even longer.
For many Palestinians in the West Bank, those Israeli Army checkpoints and the stress and heartache they cause are one of the most tangible daily reminders of an occupation that began 40 years ago this week, with Israel's victory in the Six Day War.
They have become especially onerous since Palestinians began a second uprising, or "intifada", in 2000. Israelis say the checkpoints are necessary to protect their citizens. Many Palestinians view them as collective punishment.
At a personal level, the 500 or so checkpoints now dotting the West Bank mean I have cut down on visits to my parents.
At one checkpoint recently near Jenin, I waited in a long line in the dark. Soldiers waved in cars one by one, asked motorists to switch off the engines and lights, then get out of their vehicles, pull up their clothes and turn around - they say they are hunting for people wired up as suicide bombers. Then troops advance towards each car, aiming their rifles with a flashlight mounted above the barrel to see that everyone has got out of the car. Children and sometimes women are allowed to stay in.
There are some benefits to being a journalist in these situations. Near Jenin, I was able to show my Reuters press card and was spared having to lift my shirt or have the soldiers point their guns at Amr and his 12-month-old brother Ibrahim.
But nothing is certain. One time, when Amr was a baby, I told a soldier I had to get through because my son needed a doctor for a high fever. "So what?" he said.
Much can depend on the mood of the young Israeli conscripts. Sometimes they hold up lines of cars as they joke and chat with each other.
Rules are many. And often change.
My wife, Bahjeh, and I have had problems because my papers were issued in Ramallah while hers are from Jenin. On one trip, a soldier told us we could not pass because she was not registered in Ramallah. Only a long debate got us home.
Such problems can seem trivial. People have been shot at checkpoints. Rights groups complain of the sick delayed on the way to hospital and of women giving birth waiting in line.
The situation is complex. It is not easy for a child to understand. After proposing ramming the checkpoint, Amr spotted another car driving straight through unchecked in another lane.
"Do like that car. Follow it!" my impatient son demanded.
Hard to explain that its licence plate showed the car was driven by Jewish settlers, not Palestinians like ourselves, and that ramming the checkpoint would have triggered a hail of gunfire from Israeli soldiers.
Back home, I am planning another trip to my parents. The uncertainties make planning hard though. I never tell my mother in advance. That way she won't worry as hours tick by. In the West Bank, happy visits are always a surprise.
- REUTERS
