Hebron

It’s a bus-full, maybe 30 of us, leaving from a parking lot in Jerusalem, out into the whitewashed hills. We are travelling Road 60, which crosses the West Bank, cutting Israel into two, on the way to Hebron. Michael and Yehuda from Breaking the Silence, a group of soldiers who served in the Palestinian territories, are here to give us ‘a much-needed perspective on the West Bank’.

Passing a Palestinian refugee camp on our left, we arrive at the settlement of Kiryat Arba. The Israeli flag flaps above a sentry post and a sign in Hebrew advertises new-build homes. This town is home to 6,500 people – mostly new immigrants from the former Soviet Union. A subsidised, bulletproof bus takes 50 minutes from here to Jerusalem, and they get discounts on their taxes too.

We wait at the entrance while the Kiryat Arba security forces (‘a militia’, says Yehuda) decide whether to let us in. Briefly, I wonder why we are not travelling in a bulletproof bus. ‘It’s the same story every time,’ says Yehuda, who runs these trips to Hebron fortnightly. ‘They already know us but they make us wait for the police. They don’t have the legal right, but we don’t want to cause a fuss, so we wait.’

After about ten minutes we are allowed in, and follow a dinky-toy police van to the centre of town. We pass Palestinian neighbourhoods and an army base. Religious Jews are languid under the boulevard shades. It’s quiet and clean. A bus with blacked-out windows passes us and I catch a glimpse of shadow Hassidim sitting rigid, like dolls. Meir Kahane Park is on our right. Inside, says Yehuda, is a shrine to Baruch Goldstein, who massacred 29 Palestinians, before being beaten to death, in Hebron in 1994. On the shrine someone has written: Here Baruch Goldstein was killed, pure of heart.

Before 1948, Michael explains, Jews and Arabs co-existed in Hebron – co-existed, that is, until 67 Jews died in a massacre in 1929. After that, there were almost no Jews in Hebron until Israel captured the West Bank in 1967, and the families who had left after the massacre asked to return. Prime Minister Ben Gurion said no, but a year later, settlers got permission to visit Hebron for Passover and after the holiday refused to leave. Eventually, the Israeli army let them stay.

We're in Hebron now. Since 1997, the city has been split between Israeli and Palestinian Authority control. It is home to 150,000 Palestinians and 650 Jewish settlers, with 500 Israeli soldiers protecting the Jews. We follow an Israeli-only highway towards our destination –  Israeli-controlled central zone, H2. A clean brown road bisects the view: it’s for Jews to reach the Tomb of the Patriarchs, burial site of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. There is no one on this road.

Groups of Palestinian men walk the street, pointing; a little girl stands and stares; a donkey, a cart, and a boy who mimes throwing something at us, then sticks out his tongue. There is graffiti in Russian and a camouflaged house – Arab, but the upper floor occupied by Israeli army, its inhabitants forced down to the ground. There is not a sound.

Army policy is to avoid conflict between Jews and Arabs by creation of ‘sterile zones’. This means that areas are cleared for Jews, and Arabs must make their way through the city by alternative routes. In 80 per cent of central Hebron, Palestinians are not allowed to drive: they travel by foot. Arab stores posing a security risk to settlers are closed. Other parts of H2 are entirely off-limits to Arabs, even to those who still live within the Israeli-controlled zone.

As we drive, I see no civilian, neither Arab nor Jew, just groups of border police in sunglasses and sage uniforms, hanging out in the shade. A woman in white hijab ducks into the side of a house, and then I spot a Jew, pale with a bright orange kippa, kneeling to tie up his shoe.

We have arrived, and descend the bus to stand in a town square. Behind an orange plastic waist-high barrier, Palestinian women pass. There is a mini-road block at the barrier’s end, but the barrier itself divides the road we stand on into two: we are walking the same road as the Palestinians – just that they are on the other side.

Eight soldiers armed with Uzis guard us as we walk. They are there to protect us from Palestinian snipers firing from the surrounding hills: two lead, two bring up the rear, and the others fan out to the sides. There is also a policeman, in blue.

We stand on a ‘sterilised’ road. Palestinians cannot pass from one side of H2, across this road, to the other, Yehuda explains. The call to prayer drowns his next words out, and, looking up, I see two young Arab men watching us from the balcony of a house on the other side of the orange barrier. The ground is made of dirt.

Mini-road-blocks, sandbagged with tight-stretched camouflage, box us in. Shut-up shops with rusting Arabic signs line the street and everywhere, on every door, are graffiti Stars of David in black, some with the word ‘occupied’ scrawled in Hebrew beneath.

‘An Arab family lived here,’ says Yehuda, pointing to a house on a patch of open ground. ‘After a Palestinian sniper murdered an 11-month-old baby, the settlers made the family’s life hell. The Israeli army tried to protect them – they tried to build an iron wall around their house, but the settlers broke all the equipment. Finally, they built a six-metre concrete wall around the house – but does the family live in their house today? No – because the only entrance is through a locked gate in the old city, to which the army holds the key.’

We are standing on the front line, where Arabs and Jews battle to hold their ground. Jewish children play: tiny girls in floor-length skirts, boys lounging in the sun. A street away, Muslim toddlers walk in hijab to the ground.

A jeep zooms past, soldiers hanging from its open back door.

Tacked to the side of a building, is a sign: ‘These houses were built on land stolen by Arabs after the massacre of the Jewish community in 1929. We demand our property back – the Jewish community of Hebron.’

‘Settlers see themselves as a continuation of the pre-1948 community,’ says Yehuda. ‘But the original community were not Zionist. The deeds to this house belong to a Jew who has said he doesn't want it to be occupied by a settler family at the expense of Palestinians who live here now.’

Yehuda and Michael have warned us we might get trouble from the settlers, who hate these tours, and sometimes throw abuse, or rocks. But so far no one’s approached. The settlers are just hanging out, or driving along slowly in pick-up trucks, whilst kids with pinched-up faces run about. But, I wonder, which one of them wrote Arabs are sand niggers on the shuttered-up shop in this sterilised street, next to the brand new Beit Midrash, squatting behind its barbed-wire fence.

We climb a hill to the Palestinian part of town. Children smile and say shalom, and the soldiers seem more relaxed: they kick back a little, chatting to the kids with the Arabic words they’ve learned. We visit a Palestinian home, and the owner tells us that settlers throw rubbish into his garden, and stones at the windows, so now he’s put up bars. His daughter is escorted to school, otherwise the Jewish children attack her with stones.

We sit in silence for a while. Then one of the soldiers asks me if I’m Jewish. ‘You have a Magen David,’ he says, pointing to the Star of David around my neck.

‘Yes, I am a Jew.'

I ask them how it is in Hebron.

‘Easy, easy,’ they say.

Yehuda reads us testimony from Israeli soldiers who have served in Hebron. ‘Occupation destroys the moral fabric of those who enforce it,’ he says. ‘Israeli men fragment their identity so they can be good fathers and sons at home, and brutal soldiers in the West Bank.’

‘Listen to that bullshit,’ says a young soldier with dark eyes.

As we leave through a pink sunset, another soldier, Yonatan, walks by my side: ‘Are you the only Jew?’ he asks.

‘No – my friend Dov is too.’ I nod to the front of the group.

‘Well, I’ll protect you and I’ll protect him,’ says Yonatan.

A hundred muezzins echo the call to prayer – not just one like in my Jaffa home.

We've reached our final stop – Tomb of the Patriarchs in the central square. Last to descend the bus, I see Yehuda in the midst of a fracas, surrounded by Jewish settlers, who are shouting: ‘Anti-Semite! You are worse than Hitler!’ Head bowed, Yehuda tries to dodge them, but every way he turns they confront him again. Police rush in and surround him. He is hustled away. The last thing I see his the black kippa on the top of his head.

Before I can move, there is a man in my face: ‘Anti-Semite! Go back home!’

It’s a second before I react: ‘What did you say?’

‘Anti-Semite – go back where you came from!’

‘Nazi!’ – this is from an older man, whose beard is long and white.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ I say.

A group of Jewish men has gathered. Their women are nowhere to be seen.

‘Arab-lover!’

A policeman places himself between me and them, arms out wide, but I am so angry I cannot walk away.

‘You’re a disgrace!’ I shout, my face screwed up in fury.

‘Bitch!’ says a voice from the back of the crowd.

I step forward, part of me calculating if they’ll turn violent, part too livid to care. Raising one arm, I point a finger into the face of the nearest man: ‘You disgust me,’ I say. Then I step away.

Breaking the silence

False Dichotomies in Hebron

Comments

[Joseph]

Darling,

The Hebron story was frightful. The hatred makes people lose their
minds. Were those US voices calling you those things or Russian?
Goldstein was, if I remember rightly, from the US - they are often the
most fanatical. I don't believe there is a monument to him. Imagine
how people would feel if a monument was made for some Nazi killer? And
calling the square by Kahane's name is disgusting.

Faced with such extremism it must be so hard not to lash out - and we
are only on the edge of this...

The photo was also very powerful - are those Arab doors?

Love and peace (but only with justice)

Joseph

[Ramona]

Hi - now how do you feel? Is this the first time you've been attacked by other Jewish people ? Have you been attacked by Arabic people? i'm curious. A very powerful and compulsive piece of reading. Take care Big L . Love to you xxx Ramonaramone

[britta]

I am really loving your writing.it has matured and improved so much and is very interesting to read...

[Leila]

Ramona - yes, this is the first time I've been attacked by other Jewish people. The words they used have a particular meaning in our history, and to misappropriate them dishonestly, as these people did, is shocking. I have never been called an anti-Semite: it engraged me because it is not true, and also because the use of the terms Nazi and anti-Semite in this context are manipulative self-pity.

There is also the mind-twisting spectacle of Jews subjugating Arabs, and then accusing those who criticise them of being fascist.

I feel pity for these people, who act like animals, from the basest of instincts. I see that like all abusers, they are deeply threatened and afraid, though this never justifies the abuse.

I have never been attacked by Arabs in Israel. In Ramallah, in the West Bank, as I got into a bus with a Palestinian friend, the man sitting behind me called me a 'fucking Jew'.

Love
Leila x x x x

[Leila]

Joseph, darling - thanks for your comment. It was hard to tell where the settlers came from - the ones shouting abuse. They spoke in Hebrew, although changed to English when they realised I was from England. They were probably a native Israeli, although the older ones may have immigrated here from Europe when they were younger.

The picture is of doors in the main street of H2, central Hebron. I think, but am not sure, that these are houses formerly occupied by Arabs, who have now moved to the Palestinian area, H1.

Love, L x x x

[Idan Gazit]

Wonderfully written.

To tell the truth, I struggled to find an adjective for this story. I would say "delightful" in that it delights me to read such a good piece of writing on the subject, or "disgusting" at the behavior of the settlers, or "saddening" at the plight of the locals forced to live with the settlers and the army -- but none of it really fits.

So I'll stick to "compelling" and "informative" -- as well as "very brave". I'm not sure that I would have the courage to go there, no matter who took me. Bravo!

[PP]

Hi Leila,

First-time visitor at your blog- saw the link at Israelity and came to read your account as I also went to Hebron with Yehuda et al a few months back (albeit with a Hebrew-speaking group, so we got less "Anti-Semite" more "Traitors!" on terms of shouts, and less physical abuse than you did. And some eggs.)

They're quite amazing, the "Shovrim Shtika" lot. They put up with so much hassle and yet they keep going. I'm glad to hear they're still doing the tours: I've personally spent a lot of time in the Hebron area over the years, yet that was probably the most meaningful few hours there that I can recall.

[Carrie]

Leila, every time I read this story, I'm moved by a thread of compassion running through the lines. And I am shaken by the thought of what happened after the last sentence. You hadn’t lashed out violently, but if your verbal exchange had led to a violent one, how would you react? Am I right to assume you felt emboldened by Yonatan’s pledge to protect you?

I’m writing from the virtual comfort zone of London where we are stuck in a loop of passive-aggressive behavior. We walk away from confrontations, quietly seething. Afterwards, we come up with possible retorts such as, ‘call me a bitch again and I’ll pee on your leg!’ I wonder how that one would go over in Hebron..

Carrie x

Extraordinarily evocative - we've all heard stories about this sort of thing happening but how shocking it must be actually to experience it in person! M.

[Leila]

Idan - many thanks for your comment, and for linking this story to your blog. It's nice to meet you. I'm really encouraged by your generous words - knowing that the writing is appreciated is what motivates me! Leila

[Leila]

PP - it's interesting to hear about your experience of Hebron with Yehuda and the group. I'll visit you over at Slightly Mad to read more - thanks for commenting. Leila

[Leila]

Carrie - thanks so much for your lovely comment. I'm really glad that my words are reaching London, and that we can keep in touch this way. I don't think I was emboldened so much by Yonatan's pledge to protect me, as by my experience with violence on the streets of Brixton, unfortunately.

I reacted as if I were on the street in London - which is unfortunate, because I am in no position to judge my new environment the way I would judge my old one.

I agree that we are not confrontational in London - not something one can say about the Middle East! It's not only politically-motivated clashes, here: one sees angry confrontation daily within Israel, over the slightest disagreement. People boil up quickly - but down quickly too, perhaps because they express it, rather than hold it in. Perhaps after two months here, I've started to react like this too.

I'm not sure what I would have done had it turned violent, and I'm really glad that it didn't, because even though there were police and soldiers everywhere, such violence can, as Dov pointed out to me afterwards, be a flashpoint to something far greater.

Talk to you soon, Carrie, hoping all is well in our home, and that your own work is flourishing.

L x

[hadas]

Worlds apart between this story and life in the Bubble. Juggling between the two always seemed impossible for me, while living in Israel; how can one lead a ‘normal’ life with the knowledge all this takes part a few kilometers away…I do hope I could be stronger when I return and try to contribute to change. I do know though, that snailing is such a tempting option, though. Much safer indeed :)

[Michelle]

I don't blame the Jews in Hebron for their attitudes. They are surrounded by Nazi-like Arabs who want to murder them and have in many cases.
I'm not Jewish but I applaud these brave, courageous Jews for fighting to protect their homeland and their children.
The only animals here are the Arabs who shoot Jewish babies in the head, murder pregnant Jewish women, smash the head of little Jewish babies and then celebrate afterward.
You claim to be Jewish but than attack these salt-of-the earth Jews and provide aid and comfort to their enemies.
These men are sick and tired of being vilified by terrorist-supporters like yourself. Good for them! Next time go to Gaza and see how the Hamass terrorists treat you.

[Leila]

Michelle - I'm not sure whether you read this post very closely - no one attacked the settlers: they were the ones who attacked, unprovoked. Israeli society contains all shades of opinion - political dissent is a right. Some Israelis think that by expressing dissent for the settlers' actions they are safeguarding Israel's future. L

[Leila]

Hi Hadas - thanks for your comment. I guess I'm still so new here that I haven't had time to feel the hopelessness that some of my Israeli friends express. They feel that nothing they can do will change anything, and yearn for 'normality' on another, quieter part of the planet. Perhaps after being away you will see things with different eyes... L

[rami]

Hey - I found your blog through a friend. I am meeting with people from Break The Silence on Wednesday here in Sweden, and I wanted to find out some information about them. Your post was excellent.. thank you!

[Leila]

Rami - thanks for your nice words. I'm glad the post was helpful to you. Don't hesitate to get in touch if there is anything else I can do to help. Leila

[Amos]

Very interesting and moving indeed. Thank you very much and hope to see you.
Amos

[Sealwoman]

Wow. It's strange how the Jew-Nazi axis is not mutually exclusive anymore. It's not really either/or, is it? Nazi, or facist is everybody non-fundamentalist/extremist (not sure if those terms are really applicable). No multiple identities, defined by opinion, permitted within the category Jew?

Nazi/facist changed meaning in Germany, too. Its meaning is not exclusively anti-semite anymore, it's means anti-non-white-german. Sexuality categories are intermingled there, too. Though a lot of people use the word Nazi to denote someone very aggressively strict. Ken Livingston comes to mind.

Take care and be careful. Love, xxx

[Tif]

Hi Leila,

I just started reading your blog over lunch today - and couldn't stop reading! I really enjoy your writing, and the little glances your stories give at so many different worlds.

Please keep writing - I'll definitely keep reading :)

-Tif

[TW]

the bubble bursting doesnt end here.
it was important that you saw that first hand, and im glad youre here to share it in this public forum. Jews need to know.
I am still sorry you got hurt. I just got back from berlin, another side of the story...I am leaving for hong kong next week, i hope we can visit before that if time permits. See you in ulpan ;)

[Ghaith Al-Amaireh]

I wonder why most of the people see half of the story; Israelis kill Arab babies and shoot them in the head they kill Arab women and children too. Why Israelis have the right to defend their homeland where Arabs can’t…! The big question is who occupied who?! Who is killing who? A country that was established by war and killing. A country that doesn’t know the concept of PEACE…

[nilly]

hey Leila,

michelle's comment is a fine example of how some people will just not be confused by facts, even if the facts will dance the foxtrot naked infront of their eyes, or be skillfuly written in a blog entry they pretend to read. sad, really.

and on a much more positive note- we should go for a drink soon, dont u think? :-)

love,
Nilly

[mike marcus]

I just read this. Its very moving. Reading it brought back all the complex feelings that I felt when I was there. I might be spending quite a bit of time there in the future. Im kind of scared about whether I can handle it or not. It wasnt easy last time.

Mike Marcus