A Day in Hebron

A Day in Hebron - July 7, 2019

If you have ever been in Hebron, West Bank, Palestine, you think you know what I am going to tell you.  You have seen how the extreme, violent settlers who live there have driven out the Palestinians from their shops and even their homes.  You have seen how the shopkeepers in the Old City, already lacking what used to be a thriving tourist trade, have to protect their displays with overhead wire netting and plastic sheeting because the setters throw down their garbage, and worse, from their apartments above the shops.  You have seen the permanently shuttered shops along Shuhada Street where settler moms push strollers, secure in their belief that they will not have to lay eyes on a Palestinian mom.

But I am going to tell you about a young man who just opened a hostel on the forth floor of a building in the commercial district.  His name is Ghassan. He has a vision which requires tourists to come to Hebron, the city where he was born.  He has a passion which is for tourists to learn the truth about Palestine.  He is not naive; he spent two years in Europe experiencing freedom of movement before coming home.  He knows first hand how the Hebron settlers are vicious in their hatred towards the likes of him. This very morning I watched a film made by the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) that documents that hatred, showing how settler children are encouraged to throw stones at Palestinian children. “Children here don’t know what a “human right” is. You ask them and they don’t know.”

So Ghassan speaks from his own life experience.  “The Palestinian Authority has done nothing for me.  There are no benefits, no free health care. They cooperate with Israel. They have money; where does it go?” Then, “The Jews will never give up this land, and Palestinians won’t give up this land.  So the only solution is to share the land.” We think this sounds like the “one state solution”, but he disagrees, fearing that would lead to more violence. He has seen people killed right in front of him. “I don’t want to see blood.”

All these thoughts were shared with 5 women “tourists” in the hostel’s attractive sitting and dining area before we set out on a walking tour.  Our first stop was at a checkpoint separating downtown from the Tel Rumeida neighborhood.  I had been here 3 years ago, and notice that the checkpoint has been greatly reinforced.  Ghassan was not sure the soldiers would let him through as he is not an official resident of Tel Rumeida. Without that specific ID, a Palestinian cannot pass, cannot visit a relative, cannot use this shorter route to get to another street. This unique discrimination is due to the activist resistance of this neighborhood and the fact that the settlers want it.  The effect is that one can barely remember that this is one city, and it is a Palestinian city, not an Israeli city. One can barely remember that there was wholeness here until 1994. But that is another story.

Helping Ghassan guide us was Talal, an older man, father of 2 children, an unemployed mechanical engineer.  As we walked through the streets, Talal said, “You know about Palestinians?  We cannot think in terms of Future.” He explained, “We depend on help from powerful countries, and we have no power. We do not control what happens to us. Even the two major parties, Fatah and Hamas, have been driven apart by the Mossad ( Israeli intelligence). I thanked Talil for sharing his views with me.

That was my day in Hebron, if I don’t count the pottery shop that served us all hot tea while the owner hand painted the pottery he was selling.  Or the craft shop in the old city that wouldn’t let me pay for the beaded Palestinian bracelets that I wanted to bring home to my Arabic teacher.  Wouldn’t you like to be a tourist in Hebron?