Three days ago there were two military were stationed on the main road from Tsur Baher to Kibbutz Ramat Rachel. Today the road is completely closed, and the road is blocked exactly where the Green Line was forty-seven years ago. The border re-sprouts.
It starts like any other border: Mobile toilets for the guards, trailer shed which will soon be replaced with caravans, a temporary place which in no time can become a border check post. The road is blocked by huge concrete blocks decorated with red tape, and the Park of Olives I visited so many times suddenly looks beyond the border.
The Mukhtar's son, a taxi driver, is coming from Ramat Rachel. "The night was not easy", he said. "They shook the whole village," he said, "people threw stones, and the police fired tear-gas. Now they have check points everywhere. The village is under siege."
"The Arabs also threw Molotov cocktail bombs" said one of the policemen.
"Can I go into the village?" I asked, "I need to go to the laundromat and to the vegetable shop, its right here."
"Sure," he said, "This is the capital of Israel. You can go."
The people who work in Kibbutz Ramat Rachel, do the laundry, cook in the dining room and wait on the guests of the Kibbutz's guest house can't go to work today. The rain is falling. Fresh grass is growing between the olive trees implies that 2015 will be a blessed year.