Hebron: What's up, Abraham! / Hello, muzzle!

Well, it seems we have some catching up to do. 

Hebron  (al-Khaleel = الخليل)

We had a week off of school for Eid al-Adha at the end of November.  I didn't participate in any of the animal slaughter that was going on, although I did have the opportunity.  I did, however, take advantage of the time off to visit Hebron. 

Hebron is a hotbed for conflict, as it is the only place where there are settlers and Palestinians living in immediate proximity. Everywhere else the settlers are in settlements that are outside of the city, totally separated and under strict guard. In Hebron, there will be settlers who live in one house and Palestinians in the neighboring abode.

Honestly, this was all I knew as I made plans to go there... and by "made plans" I really only mean "set a time to meet at the service station".  I even arrived there a bit late after a sleeping in because of the previous night of planning for a riddle-driven birthday quest for our boss.  I had a vague idea that we could reach Hebron through Ramallah, and I heard that it took far longer than necessary.  This actually brings us to the end of any knowledge I had prior to leaving.

We found that indeed, we were able to go directly from Ramallah to Hebron.  The entire trip there took us about two and a half hours, despite the fact that the distance between our two cities is about 60 mi (99km).  There a many checkpoints along the way, and when our van was stopped at one, a teenager/young man (ages are odd here) was pulled out.  That part didn't take quite as long as the process of the driver making sure he'd been paid for the young man's journey into detention somewhere between Nowhere and Bethlehem.

Once we arrived, I asked a shop owner what I should see considering it was my first trip to Hebron.  "Hammam al-Ibrahimi," he kept telling me.  I got that it was a mosque, but beyond that I wasn't given any further information - or perhaps I was and simply didn't understand.  I certainly didn't understand why a mosque would be called "The Abraham Bath house", but it was more than I had to go on, so we walked in search of it.  In keeping with tradition, no one ever gave detailed directions as to how to get there, but we were instead given the next chunk of the journey and told to just ask someone when we got that far.  I don't know how I'll deal with living in a place with street names again...

As we make our way in that direction, we find ourselves in the old city, in an old souq (market).  As I continue to ask the way, I encounter a woman whose sister had started a woman's collective in Hebron, which was what she was selling there.  I asked her just what was so special about this mosque.  In a mix of Engl-abic, I realized that this was where Abraham - the father of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam alike - was buried, along with his wife Sara, his son Isaac, and Isaac's wife (whose name escapes me).  How appropriate that I visit this place during the Eid al-Adha break.  Eid al-Adha is the holiday that commemorates the event of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac at his lord's behest.  And perhaps how inappropriate that I had no idea before leaving.  If you would like further information on the Tomb of the Patriarchs, as it seems to be called in English, you may find it here.

When I visited the site of Abraham's tomb, a mosquigogue (half mosque, half synagogue), I entered on the Arab side. I went through the requisite IDF security checks, and as I approached the entrance, an Arab man demanded of me and a very confrontational manner, "Where are you from?" I replied, "America," to which he responded - equally as harsh - "What religion are you?" "Christian." His face brightened and a smile lit across it. "Oh, welcome!" He said in a suddenly cheery tone. It occured to me that he likely thought that my friend and I were settlers entering the mosque side.

As we walked inside, I started to cover with my scarf. 

"It's a mosque.  We should probably cover,"  I told Jess. 

"Oh... I didn't bring a scarf..." 

So I drape my outer sweater over her head, but as we walk inside we are directed toward a wall of hooded capes, many of which were made from an odd faux-denim-looking material.  We put them on, looking quite stylish, I assure you, and wandered in.  We look at gates labeled with the names of Abraham, Sara, Isaac, and Wife of Issac (what was her name?). 

 

After leaving the mosque, we return to see Layla as we'd promised, and she tells us that if we walk to the roof of the apartment beside us, that we could see where their water tanks had been shot by settlers. She said something about one of their children dying, but I didn't understand just what, and I feel it impolite to ask people to repeat themselves when discussing the death of young child. So we make our way up to the roof left to wonder.


From the rooftop, which was enclosed by razor wire, we could see a minaret just across the way from two huge water tanks painted with the Israeli flag. Some of the water tanks on this rooftop were inoperative due to their having been shot. That, we were told, was the point. We could also see a large accumulation of trash atop the make-shift roof they'd created over their walkway. We'd been told that the settlers threw things down so often that these were erected everywhere for protection. You could see the same thing throughout the souq.

On the rooftop.  Note the bullet holes in their water tanks and the "Howdy, neighbor!" razor wire.

View from rooftop.  Note the crescent topping a mosque on the left and the water tanks decorated with the Israeli flag in the the more distant right.

From the home we visited.  In the foreground you see clothes hanging on a clothes line - normal part of everyday life for anyone.  Behind that you see the make-shift roof, weighed down by trash, and in the background you can also make out more razor wire.

I talked to a boy who lived in the home we'd visited.  He told me about a DVD that had been made in 2003 or 2004, during the second intifada, when he could not have walked the souq corridor we were then standing in without having been shot.  I bought the DVD from him, although I have not yet watched it in its totality. 

This did not surprise me, as Nenita, the Spanish-Palestinian woman I've befriended in Nablus, showed me the apartment of her son which she had not fixed up since his death.  One of the walls of the apartment was missing from shelling, and the walls were sprayed with bullet holes.  However, in Nablus, there is no razor wire or makeshift rooves to serve as a daily reminder of the tension.  Our reminders are more subtle and removed - like sonic booms.  Funny what passes for subtle... guess everything's relative.

As we wandered the city, I asked a waiter in a restaurant where else we might find these areas with Palestinians and settlers living together.  Other than the old city, which had a clearly demarcated and heavily guarded section for the settlers, everything else looked like a typical Palestinian city. 

"Just walk 20 meters that way," he told us.  Easy enough.  This is what we saw.

Straight ahead, in the mobile unit blocking the road, is a checkpoint with Israeli guard on the other side. 

This sign is indicating that the area is under control of the Israeli military.  I can only assume that this is refering to the varying levels of control within Hebron, with areas classified as H1 or H2.  Here is a wiki-clip to explain:  Restrictions on Palestinian movement in H2

"Palestinian control of Hebron is limited to the 20 or 30 square kiliometers of H1, which contains around 120,000 Palestinians. In H2, where more than 500 Jewish settlers live among 30,000 Palestinians, the Palestinian populations' movements are heavily restricted whilst the Jewish settlers are allowed total freedom of movement and protected by the IDF.[13] Palestinians are not allowed to use Shuhada street, which is one of the main thoroughfares of Hebron, which is restricted to settlers. Shuhada street has received millions of dollars of renovations funded by the United States.
As a result of these restrictions, about half the shops in H2 have gone out of business since 1994, in spite of UN efforts to pay shopkeepers to stay in business. Palestinians cannot approach near where the settlers live without special permits from the IDF. Palestinian criminals come to H2 to flee the Palestinian police.[13]"

On the other side of that trailer.

It was soon time to head home.  I'm not sure that I could actually tell the tale of our journey home and do it any justice... basically the driver of our service was absolutely mad, the traffic was insane, some off-roading was involved, and Jess and I just spoke to each other in Spanish the entire journey home so that we could privately pray for our lives. 

Alrighty... one journey down, several more to go to catch up.

As always, much love.

K