July 11, 2002

Palestinians Unable to Enter Jordan

ASSOCIATED PRESS

JERICHO, West Bank- In desert heat that scorches the lowest point on Earth, about 1,000 Palestinians wait in a dim, filthy bus station for a trip out of the misery of the West Bank.

For days, they have been waiting in hopes of crossing into Jordan to visit family, get married, reach jobs or escape standstill lives under Israeli occupation. But the number of those allowed across has slowed to a trickle since Jordan began closing its door to Palestinian travelers.

Jordan placed new restrictions on travelers last month out of fear that many would seek to stay there to escape the Israeli military takeover of parts of the West Bank.

"Why don't they want to accept us? I don't know," said Fatima Djindib, who had been waiting for 10 days to cross into Jordan with her daughter, who is to get married there.

She waited with the others in the bus station in Jericho, a few minutes drive from the Allenby Bridge crossing with Jordan. The city's extremely low elevation - at 812 feet below sea level, it is lower than Death Valley - turns it into a reflector oven during the summer.

Confused, angry and soaking with sweat, the Palestinians fan themselves with pieces of torn cardboard, sleep on floor mats, play cards and weep. Occasionally fights break out with the police.

Mustafa Jafry, 37, from Ramallah, had been waiting with his wife and six children for a week to get to Amman, Jordan, from where he planned to fly to Chicago, where he works as a street peddler.

"I came back for the children," he said. "I'm living bad, to tell the truth. There's nothing good."

It's been a tough seven days for him and his family. They have to sleep under some trees because the hotels raised prices from $10 a night to $95 for two people, he said. The drinking water at the bus terminal is hot and dirty. Vendors, too, have jacked up prices for sandwiches from 25 cents to a dollar, in hopes of cashing in on the people's plight.

Worse for Jafry's mood is that he isn't sure why he's stranded.

His name disappeared from a Palestinian border control list to cross the bridge. He figures someone paid a policeman a bribe to buy his spot.

Jordanian officials denied they were limiting the crossing to just a few hundred Palestinians a day, but said there were restrictions in place to ensure Israel would not try to expel Palestinians from the West Bank to Jordan.

Three Palestinian Cabinet ministers, including Saeb Erekat, who lives in Jericho, traveled to Amman on Wednesday to discuss the problem with Jordanian Interior Minister Qaftan al-Majali.

"We are keen on implementing precautionary measures to make sure that any Palestinian who visits Jordan will go back to his home," al-Majali said. Jordanian officials insisted that there are no limits on Palestinians entering their country from the West Bank, and no changes have been made at the border.

Jordan's population is more than 60 percent Palestinian, including more than 1.5 million Palestinian refugees, according to the U.N. refugee agency. The country has been reluctant to open its borders to any more Palestinians.

"They are trying to prevent immigration," said Mustafa Barghouti, a Palestinian spokesman. "The way it is done now is making people suffer."

The only way to get across now, Barghouti said, is to pay $140 to a commercial firm called VIP, which helps people across the bridge.

In the Jericho bus terminal, nerves wear thin. Women weep openly. Some plead with officers and then give up. Others sit against walls in the smelly hall, which is littered with bottles, food wrappers and dirt. On Tuesday a fist fight broke out between a young man and a police officer.

Suddenly a policeman announces through a loudspeaker that everyone who has been waiting a week or more can now go to Jordan. The crowd cheers, and people scramble for belongings.

But 30 minutes later, the first bus, carrying 27 Palestinians hoping to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia, returns from the bridge, unable to cross.

Hassan Jalami, 34, from Jenin, was convinced just moments before that he'd get to Jordan and on to Saudi Arabia. He sadly put his bag back down.

Ulfat Djindib, 19, cried after talking by phone with her fiance in Jordan. She wouldn't make their wedding party, planned for Thursday.

Khaled Daoud, an architect, fumed and worried that he'd lose his job in the United Arab Emirates because of the long delay.

Outside, two other men began yet another of their interminable card games.

Amineh Ahed, a teacher, fanned her 1-year-old baby, Amer, with a newspaper. She doesn't know who is to blame for this. But she says she knows why.

"The problem is we are Palestinian," she said.

-- Anonymous, July 12, 2002