Shop Hebron

February 25, 2017

Palestinians living in Hebron are making a plea for international intervention to stop settler violence. Determined to fight for their human rights, fearless in the face of the Israeli military’s use of tear gas, rubber-coated steel bullets and stun grenades, the Palestinians are joined by Israeli and foreign and activists. They are marching together through the streets of the divided city. This is the 23rd anniversary of a massacre. In 1994, Baruch Goldstein, an American-born-Israeli settler in Hebron, entered the Ibrahimi Mosque during Ramadan prayers and killed 29 worshipers, wounding 125.

In response, Israel closed over 500 Palestinian businesses and welded shut their homes. Only settlers and internationals were allowed to walk on Shuhada Street, the main commercial center of the city. The mosque was closed for repairs. Blood-soaked carpets were replaced. The shrine reopened nine months later with separate entrances and security checks for Muslims and Jews. The Palestinian mayor of Hebron invited an international group of volunteers, the Christian Peacemakers Team (CPT), to patrol the streets of the stricken city. He hoped their presence would help stop violent confrontations, especially on Friday afternoons, the Muslim Sabbath when Israeli soldiers often prevented young Muslim men from entering the mosque.

In 2010, I saw the bones of occupation in Hebron laid bare. The city had been still sliced into two sectors since 1997. Palestinians living under Israeli military control dealt with extended curfews and restrictions on their movement. The lines between the sectors were becoming increasingly blurred as settlers expanded into so-called Palestinian Zones. Shuhada Street was still closed to Palestinians. Only settlers, soldiers, and internationals were allowed to walk there. According to B’Tselem, an Israeli human rights organization, by 2006 over 1,000 Palestinian homes in the center of Hebron had been padlocked, and almost 2,000 businesses and shops welded shut by the Israeli government. Windows were covered with iron bars to protect them from being smashed by settlers. Ancient walls were scribbled with recycled Holocaust slogans: Arabs to the Gas Chambers, Transfer Arabs, Kill Arabs.

I was disheartened by the hatred. Gone were the old men playing backgammon and drinking coffee by outdoor tables. Where was the blacksmith bending steel at his forge, the squawking chickens, the bakery, the glass blowers, and the pottery vendors? Jewish settlement in the heart of Hebron had created a ghost town.

We stood on a rooftop in the Palestinian sector of the city with our guide, a 66-year-old former nun from the States, who was part of the Christian Peacemakers Team. A temporary project that started after the 1994 massacre had become as permanent as the occupation. From our vantage, we could see the Tomb of the Patriarchs, nearby synagogues, Jewish settlements, Muslim and Jewish cemeteries, the abandoned market, and soldiers on military rooftop outposts who watched us as we watched them. The outposts looked like makeshift wooden shacks, but “temporary” things in this land have a way of becoming permanent. “Restrictions change minute by minute, soldier by soldier,” our guide explained.

Back in the street, we walked under wire netting hung by local Palestinians. Spanning open courtyards and passageways, the netting protected people, their produce and merchandise from garbage and debris thrown down by settlers and soldiers, but there was no protection from urine, eggs, and human feces. A former Israeli soldier who once served in Hebron told me, “Our orders were to protect the settlers—not to protect Palestinian families from settler violence. Soldiers are combatants, not police.” As if to excuse the inexcusable, he added, “Rooftop shifts could last twelve hours—without bathroom breaks. to keep myself awake I sang at the top of my lungs.” He helped me understand that young soldiers sometimes found themselves in positions of authority over civilians who had been living under occupation longer than they had been alive

Passing a Palestinian home recently taken over by settlers, our CPT guide warned, “Let me speak if we’re stopped by soldiers.” Defying the Israeli government’s order to evacuate the home, settlers had continued to make repairs, claiming their right to remain in the home. The Knesset knew what was happening, but nothing changed. The rift between Israeli law and the implementation of the law is growing.

International law affords all children the right to attend school, including Palestinian children in Hebron who walked to school along rooftops to avoid being spat upon or attacked. The children reentered the street through a house near their school, known as the Ladder Lady’s house—a mythic- sounding place, but unlike Jacob’s ladder to heaven, this one led straight into the jaws of occupation. Our guide told us that when Palestinian children played games, they pretended to be soldiers. They understood that whoever carried guns had real power.

Before leaving the city, we ate lunch at the Resistance Café, where the owner limped around while serving us falafel sandwiches, sodas, and bottled water. We were his only customers. When his work was done, he sat down and spoke with us.

“This café is a symbol of the struggle to maintain Palestinian life in Hebron. Most Palestinians have made a commitment to stay no matter what. Like many others, I have been tortured in an Israeli prison. We would rather die than walk away from our homes like we did in 1948. My greatest act of resistance is to keep this cafe open.” He helped us understand the importance of this café which was little more than a few tables under a tarp. With each bite of falafel and sip of water, we became a small part of the resistance.

Walking back to the bus, we listened to vendors cry out, “Help us. We are merchants. Buy something, anything.” We passed stalls filled with dresses, scarves, jewelry, glassware, trinkets—including trays of old metal keys. Each key represented the end of a dream to return home. We looked to be the only tourists in town, but we were in a hurry, and all we bought that day were falafel sandwiches, soda pop, and bottled water.

After the tragedy of 9/11, our president famously exhorted Americans to “go shopping” as a response to terrorism. It’s time to go shopping––in Hebron.