Im a Danish medical student, working with an NGO from East Jerusalem. I accompany a team of doctors and nurses from there out to the Palestinian villages where theyre needed. By being there, by talking to soldiers and reminding them of international law, I make it easier for the medical teams to get through the roadblocks and checkpoints which are now everywhere.
I write a diary almost daily. This was the day when the IDF occupied Ramallah.
A long day. Up at 4.15 to go to Hebron and pick up six dialysis patients. Only four of them made it, including two small girls, but we got them escorted to safety in Jerusalem and the Augusta Victoria Hospital, where we monitored their treatment and spoke to a skilled dialysis nurse, who has been trained at the Danish Rigshospital. On the way from Hebron to Jerusalem we passed a convoy of tanks heading towards downtown Hebron. We are worried that the city might be occupied. There are a lot of signs, but we probably won't know before tomorrow. This would be pretty catastrophic for the dialysis patients who only come to Jerusalem because everything else is closed to them!
At 8am when the dialysis was proceeding well I went to see if Dr. H needed me to drive out with the medical team. - He did. It turned out that Ramallah was being occupied by IDF (Israeli Defence Force) troops and that there was heavy shooting in the city. The invasion had most likely been prepared last night, but was only set off in the early morning hours.
The village Dr. H and the medical team were going to today lies slightly northwest of Ramallah and it looked as though it was going to be difficult to get there. My first concern was my colleague Christian who I knew had planned to go to Ramallah today, where he works with the Medical Relief Committee. My phone call was not a minute too soon. Christian had left early and when I reached him he was just on the outskirts of the city.
Everything happens so fast over here; from the time he had left home the situation had changed drastically. He immediately turned around.
Shortly after, the coordinator of the Medical Relief Committee called and said she was barricaded into the head office in Ramallah and that IDF troops were shooting at the entrance and had cut off the electricity. She pleaded for us to contact Lars Adam Rehof from the Danish Representatives office in Ramallah. We had had a security meeting with him, to see if he could influence the situation. When we called, it was diplomatically explained to us that there was nothing to do. The coordinator is all right tonight, but it looks as though it will be another hot night in Ramallah.
Several people we have met over the past few days are trapped in Bethlehem, where the curfew and door-to-door checks ended yesterday. Gustaf from the Swedish church showed us pictures of the Christian families in the city whose homes had been destroyed. Furthermore a local Red Crescent Clinic was shot to pieces by F-16 airplanes. They were rough pictures. They clearly showed it hadn't been military goals bombed.
Well, but my day didn't end here. I went with Dr. H and the team shortly after 8am and we didn't make it far North before we could feel something was going on. Great motorways that yesterday has been open had last night been blocked by enormous cement blocks and there was military everywhere.
At the first checkpoint we waited in line for a while and noticed a black van in front of us. The soldier who was checking the van seemed angry, and suddenly, as the soldier was standing by the drivers' seat, the van revved up and the side mirror hit the soldier in the shoulder so he almost fell over.
Suddenly everything went fast. All the soldiers at the checkpoint pointed their guns at the van, that was still accelerating. Everyone in my car screamed and shouted, as you do when something bad is about to happen.
A moment's panic was replaced by - nothing. We thought they would shoot, but at the last minute nothing happened. Our car was allowed to pass. It was not pleasant to be interrogated by those few minutes by the clearly-shaken soldiers, but we were allowed to pass without problems.
Further up the motorway we could see the black van stopped at the side of the road. The driver was gone. He had probably realised how crazy it had been to defy a checkpoint guard. Further up the road, we saw a military jeep with troops who were ready to take on the van. It was parked in our lane, headed in the opposite direction, rifles ready. I hope for the driver that he left the place on foot.
After more check points we reached the village Kharbata where the clinic was. The moment I stepped out of the car, I could feel something was wrong. There was an extremely tense atmosphere, the air was heavy, the streets were deserted.
The clinic was empty. One of the nurses had barely opened the door before we hear a loud, piercing sound. A shot had been fired close to us, but we could not determine the direction or the precise distance and we all sought cover inside. Shortly after, we saw through a crack in the door young Palestinian men came walking/running from a western direction, fleeing something.
In the middle of everything, but in the opposite direction, a big, older woman came stomping. Dr. H knew her. She is severely sick in the lungs, and had decided to go to the doctor's this morning, shootings or not. It was absurd to see her stomping against the stream, gasping for air. She was the only patient in the village to receive treatment today.
We were stuck in the clinic for a while. Dr. H felt we should run out to the car and drive away, but I thought we should stay longer until we knew what was going on. I did not want to sit in a little mini-van if gunfire broke out again.
While this was going on, we heard the first bombs hit Ramallah in the east.
It sounded like thunder on the horizon.
We made a decision fast. We had to get out to the car, and away in a hurry. We couldn't move fast enough.
Our mini-evacuation worked without problems. The road out of Kharbata took us past what the young men had been running from. An Israeli jeep blocked the road out of the village. Several soldiers stood about it, checking all the traffic. We drove snail-speed towards the jeep and were interrogated at a rifle's distance by an older Israeli soldier. After asking many questions about why I had my passport issued a day before leaving, he said that Copenhagen was a lovely city.
He finally gave us permission to proceed, saying god tur (have a nice trip) in Danish. Ten minutes later we arrived in the village Qibya, where everything breathed peace and quiet. We opened the little clinic in the village and another day of work began.
I've slept a little. I think its time for some food now.
