H2

H2 in Hebron is a ghost town. It’s silent and dusty, like something out of a western. The shops are closed up and welded shut, Stars of David spray painted on door after door after door. A whole line of bustling businesses shut down arbitrarily. A settler walks by with his friend, talking with a heavy New York accent about some yeshiva business. M16A2 hang at their waists, the M203 grenade launchers bumping lazily against their hips. You are unwelcome here. They want to know what you’re doing. You’re here to see the wreckage of a hateful movement that has welded up all these doors, thrown rocks and trash at the residents of Hebron. The streets are dirty and empty except for the occasional settler and soldier. Tattered Israeli flags whip in the wind.

At the Ibrihimi Mosque people still bend and pray to Mecca where 29 were gunned down by a settler. You can stand up close to the minbar and see where the bullets ricocheted off the marble pillars. Bend down and kiss the grate in the ground where candles burn down low, illuminating the cave where Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob, and Leah are supposedly buried.

Past the centograph of Abraham, which sits peacefully below a seashell chandelier blowing softly in the breeze, you can see a small pane of bulletproof glass. Through here is where the settlers come to worship in the mosque. They move silently and unseen behind such barriers. After the massacre, the mosque was closed for months. When it reopened, the settlers had claimed this section for themselves. To enter the mosque, you must go through three checkpoints. One in a tunnel, one by the entrance to the mosque grounds, and the final one at the door. Settlers go through no such checkpoints, even though the bullets that scarred the minbar and took 29 lives were settler bullets shot from a settler gun by a settler maniac.

When you walk through the old city, you can begin to see how the locals are treated like animals. Unlike other settlements in the West Bank, Hebron’s H2 zone is smack in the middle of town. You walk by a few ancient buildings welded shut and then by a solitary watchtower.The locals must use donkeys as transportation here, since cars are not allowed in H2 for the settler’s safety.

When you walk by the few brave shops still open, you walk under chicken wire. Above you, caught in the wire mesh, is trash, rocks, human filth thrown down from the settlers living on the second floors. Only a few brave, dedicated souls stay in H2. They refuse to let the settlers have the area to themselves. They risk physical harm, humiliation, and economic ruinby being there. They exist in a tiny enclave — the rest is patrolled by settlers and soldiers who will always shoot first and ask questions later.

The statistics are overwhelming. Hebron used to lead Palestine in terms of economic prowess and population size. Now things are different. In Nablus, the old city is full with life and movement. In Hebron, the old city has been crushed under the boots of a few hundred settlers and the soldiers who accompany them to make sure that their lives are as safe and easy as possible. Before the second intifada, 1,610 shops were open in the old city. Thanks to military closures, settler violence, and lack of business, now there are just 650 shops, of which only 10% are operating. 75% of the residents in the old city of Hebron are under the poverty line and 80% are unemployed.

The residents of H2 are attacked and harassed by the settlers. As a final bit of salt in the wound, the residents are forces to file complaints in a nearby settlement. Internationals are forced to accompany children to school because settlers will throw rocks, beat them, and even shoot and kill them. It’s really quite simple. The settlers want the Palestinians of Hebron to leave. The soldiers stand by to protect the settlers. The residents bear it with dignity and dedication, as they do all over Palestine. They soldier on, with loving dedication for their history and for al-Khalil, waiting for a solution that is so far off in the distance they can hardly believe it exists at all sometimes.

The Hebron Rehabilitation Committee works to restore parts of the old city. They clean up ruined houses, paint the walls, offer economic incentives for residents to return, and even go so far as to pay for water or electricity when things get too bad to cover the bills. If you’re ever around in Hebron, go give them a visit. They can show you the effects of occupation on a once-thriving city center. Also visit the women’s co-op. They are, at some times, one of the handful of shops operating in the old city. They support 160 women in Hebron and their shop is managed and run by local women. It’s a fantastic way to not only show resistance to the occupation but also to enrich and empower the local community. It’s yet another example how the Palestinian spirit shines through no matter how difficult the situation becomes.

I hope one day to visit Hebron once the occupation has been overcome. I would love to see the majestic old city bustling with life once more.

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