Hebron, Sansana, South Hebron Hills, Thu 4.3.10, Morning
Translator: Charles K.
Nurit, Muhammad and I decided to start later than usual – 7:30.
The Sansana checkpoint has already been abandoned. The parking lots on the Palestinian side are full of vehicles, which is also a good thing.
Driving on Route 60, we noticed an unusual number of army vehicles, showing up more frequently. We thought it might be due to the later hour, but were wrong: At the Dura al Fawwar junction, on the Dura side, up the hill, was a big crowd and unrest (that’s what it looked like, given the number of people there). A Red Crescent ambulance arrives. Down the road, at the junction, are a number of military vehicles, soldiers – weapons drawn – including a colonel. We try to get closer and are blocked by the soldiers: “Get away from here; you’ll get hit by a rock.”
In response to our question they said that the road was blocked to prevent travel to the al Fawwar side, that the unrest will spread and “this place is crawling with Hamas people.”
The girls’ school – Sha’ir Shyuikh – Traffic on Route 60 is heavy and cars speed by, even though there’s a crossing here – unmarked, of course – for children and adults. The road is dangerous here. Maybe they should establish a cute little illegal settlement here, and then they’ll make sure the crossing is safe…
We noticed that the two illegal structures that had been demolished in the past [“The Barak Show”] and immediately rebuilt had disappeared from the distant hill to the right of the entrance. We saw people climbing toward the rubble. When we reached Beit Michael we reported it, and Issa went to see what was happening there.Onward. It seems quiet…
We visit Michael to drink tea. He tells us about a workshop to teach Palestinian youths from Tel Rumeida how to make videos – instructors include a number of artists from Israel and abroad. We hope it will be uneventful (It was a great success. The Israel Center for Digital Art in Holon has expressed great interest in the project). Leaving the house/youth center we run into an unidentified settler and P., a policeman. To reach the house, and leave, we prefer to make a big detour so the soldiers don’t stop us. The fastidious settler is full of complaints about the cleanliness and aesthetic habits of the locals. He is particularly “shocked” at their attitude to the archaeological excavations being carried out here, some which had been conducted by the Jordanians, which uncovered a Roman wall. I mentioned that things might have been different had trash containers been placed here. We were met with a volley of “Arab lovers! They’ll murder you, but you’ll keep loving Arabs, only Arabs.” And if my memory doesn’t betray me, he then continued with more superlatives about love, Arabs, etc. And “the Hebron municipality is the one who should keep the place clean.” Anyone familiar with this area knows that even a child’s scooter couldn’t get through.
We left Hebron, the abandoned hill, the rubble of the demolished buildings still in place.
P.S. To Tamar, the one and only, get well quickly and stand tall again.