I dagens Jerusalem Post ser jeg på:
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http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1206632370628&pagename=JPost
%2FJPArticle%2FShowFull>
følgende artikel:
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A highway for Africans with nothing to lose
By SAM SER
ALONG THE ISRAEL-EGYPT BORDER
They were shivering from the cold, their T-shirts and thin pants no
match for the desert's nighttime chill. Their flimsy sandals offered
precious little protection from the rocks, and the last of their food
and water had run out much earlier, dozens of kilometers before the
border. But when we swarmed around them, the 27 Sudanese who had trekked
across the Sinai Peninsula sat down and wept for joy. They were in
Israel. They were safe.
I came upon them with Lt. D., who had burst into my room moments earlier
with the order to grab my helmet and battle vest, along with Lt. S. and
another of my fellow reservists. The four of us ran westward, toward the
border, in the direction where the guards in the watchtower had noticed
a large number of silhouettes moving slowly but steadily toward our
outpost.
During our mad dash to intercept them, we thought warily of who these
people might be. The day before, drug smugglers had snuck past a guard
detail on the next outpost over. Two days earlier, a patrol unit from
our position had caught 15 Sudanese and Ivoirians. Warnings of attempts
to kidnap soldiers had come down from higher-ups in Intelligence.
As we closed in on the infiltrators, we saw the refugees and another
bunch of people rushing toward them. Thin yellow rays from their
handheld flashlights darting back and forth: soldiers on patrol were
running to contain the group.
Visibility was practically zero. The sand dunes all around, which had
glowed a bright tan in the noonday sun, by midnight had become waves in
a pitch-black sea that stretched for days on end. With a crackle and a
burst of light, illumination flares flashed overhead, hanging in the sky
long enough for us to regroup and take stock of our catch.
They were men, women and three small children. The commanding officer
summoned a female soldier from the outpost to check the women and
children; an ambulance was dispatched, too, together with food and
water.
We began security checks by having the men stand off to the side, one at
a time, and raise their shirts and lower their pants so we could see
they were not carrying explosives (we had been warned of attempts to
smuggle terrorists with explosive belts into the country, hidden among
groups of African refugees, and ordered to take precautions). Each of us
maintained a safe distance from the Sudanese, as well.
The Sudanese, apparently, had been told what to expect and took this
process in stride. They knew, after all, that had the Egyptian police on
the other side of the border caught them, chances were at least a few of
them would have bullet holes in their backs. Once in Israel, though,
they would be transferred to a holding facility to be questioned about
their route through Sinai and the people who made their difficult
journey possible. At the very least, they would enjoy free food and
shelter in a modest tent encampment; with luck, they would be offered
work on a kibbutz somewhere.
Back in the sandy ravine, trackers examined the refugees' footprints,
following them back to the spots where they had crossed into Israeli
territory. Suddenly, one alerted his commander that there were too many
prints. Three more men were out there somewhere.
Just then, gunshots fired from the west sent our forces into action.
Guards back at the outpost, using a thermal-imaging scope, had spotted
three men in the distance, ducking and running back and forth. Several
soldiers gave chase on foot, while others of us sped off in jeeps and
Hummers to investigate. Before long, the three mysterious men crossed
back into Egypt, and we all returned to our outpost - fully expecting to
see the men, or at least their human cargo, again, and soon.
The experience of the men and women guarding Israel's southern border is
becoming impossible to ignore: what began with the desperate escape of a
few hundred Darfurians has now turned into a veritable highway for
Africans with nothing to lose. They advance toward the border, their
only obstacle an insignificant coil of barbed wire, in hopes of joining
the thousands like them who have already found refuge in the Promised
Land. They risk starvation in the desert and murder at the hands of
Egyptian police - who are abandoned for months on end in this barren
place with hardly enough supplies to survive and who have no motivation
to stop this human traffic - all for the prospect of the moment Jewish
soldiers will surround them and say, "No one will harm you now."
Every night, at various points along this crumbling road, hundreds of
them wait in silence for their opportunity to march to safety. Every
night, we wait for them to come.
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Ja, jeg troede ellers at de sorte fra Darfur var muslimer som næppe
ville være særligt velkomne i Israel, men brugen af vendingen »the
Promised Land« kunne tyde på at de var kristne eller - jøder? Hvilket
ville gøre det mere forståeligt.
--
Per Erik Rønne
http://www.RQNNE.dk