Michael Jansen reports from Ramallah, having been smuggled into Kalandia refugee camp along with five MEPs.
Five deputies from the European Parliament bested the EU foreign policy chief, Mr Javier Solana, by getting into Ramallah yesterday. But the legislators did not match the feat of the US envoy, Gen Anthony Zinni, who breached the barbed wire, earth barricade and tanks to enter the compound where the Palestinian President, Mr Yasser Arafat, has been trapped for nine days.
The parliamentarians, four from France and one from Greece, represent the United Left Group presided over by Mr Francis Wurtf. Having failed to gain entry officially through the Kalandia checkpoint located at the southern edge of Ramallah, we were smuggled in through the backdoor, jokingly called "Tora Bora" after the Afghanistan's mountainous battle front. Once inside the Kalandia refugee camp, we were collected by minibuses.
Skirting round a lake of muddy water leaked from broken mains, we paused at a shop to buy a dozen boxes of bottled water and several large plastic bags of bread for the Ramallah hospital. The road was empty except for the wrecks of cars flattened by tanks. Armoured vehicles were parked in side roads and snipers on rooftops.
Gathered in the hospital drive were 50 Italian members of Action for Peace, who spent the past week offering themselves as "human shields" to prevent the Israeli army from entering the hospital. Ms Rafaella Bolini observed grimly: "I have been to Sarajevo, Kosovo and Tusla but I have never seen anything like this. A woman was shot the other day, just outside the hospital. We couldn't get to her because of the snipers. Finally we dragged the body in. Today the atmosphere is different, today is a very special day."
Thanks to Gen Zinni, the curfew had been lifted from one to five. There was no firing, the sun had driven away the rain and cold.
The hospital director, Mr Husni al-Atari, said there were 75 patients in the 141-bed hospital. "Our main problem over the past two days was a lack of water. Although we have our own generator, we had difficulties because it is not supposed to run for more than 24 hours. Most of our staff have been trapped in the hospital. Patients cannot come and go. The situation is very bad for chronically-ill patients, particularly those on kidney dialysis, who need treatment three times a week. They may die if they can't come. Medical supplies are in short supply."
We followed the peace activists through broken streets towards central Ramallah. Shy, hesitant Palestinian women and children flashed the "V" for "victory" sign from doorways. The Israelis do not officially announce the lifting of a curfew, so most people wait till the brave spirits test the streets before they leave the insecurity of their stone-walled homes. A man carrying his little daughter welcomed us: "We are glad to see you. Come again. We need you here."
As we strode towards the town centre - "Andiamo, andiamo, walk four abreast" - traffic seemed to spring out of nowhere, throwing up clouds of fine beige dust. Cars snarled at a roundabout. The stone lions of Ramallah stood battered but not bowed beneath strings of Palestinian flags. The lion wearing the watch winked as we filed past.
Near the presidential compound, the road was littered with crumpled cars, broken glass, lengths of telephone cable. The area round Mr Arafat's battered headquarters is a wasteland. Hands up, we climbed a knoll opposite an armoured jeep and a single tank. The turret turned, training the gun on us. We retreated to the road near by, but a Palestinian workman in hard hat asked us to leave.
The Israelis said his team could not repair the power lines until we did.
The centre of town had come alive. A bakery was jammed with customers. A man sold brown bananas from a barrow, others hawked shrivelled vegetables from boxes on the roadside. Men and women laden with heavy sacks of supplies hurried home. Tomorrow could be another full day of curfew.
We departed through the Kalandia checkpoint rather than Tora Bora. As we waited in line behind patient Palestinians, a sharp crack of a gunshot startled.
One by one documents were examined and we were waved out of the "closed military area" that is the largest Palestinian town in the West Bank. At the middle of the checkpoint, boys pushing supermarket trolleys laden with haunches of meat passed on the way in. A gaggle of journalists in flak jackets pounced with microphones as we reached the exit.