Hebron, South Hebron Hills, Mon 3.12.12, Morning
Translator: Charles K.
Highway 317 is quiet. Will we have nothing to report again? Don’t worry; there’s never a dull moment.
Hebron also seems sleepy at 9 AM. But it only looks that way.
We drove to the beginning of the Worshippers’ Route, next to the memorial to Dror Weinberg and his men.
Written on the wall of a house: “When an Arab dies, I celebrate.” We’d photographed it in the past.
A man who lives there tells us what usually happens on Friday: Palestinian residents are forbidden to move about; only settlers are allowed to pass; soldiers are on the roofs and in the pillbox.
“What do you think about declaring a Palestinian state?”, we ask. When peace comes, God willing. He smiles.
No detainees at the checkpoints.
A squad of Nahal soldiers goes through the Pharmacy checkpoint to Area H1.
“Why did they cross?”, we ask.
A patient soldier hadn’t heard the briefing but is sure there’s a reason, maybe they’re looking for someone.
“I support the state,” he says.
“So do we,” we reply, “which is why we’re here.”
His questioning glance indicates he didn’t really understand what we meant, but he remains polite.
M., our driver, calls us back to the car because he heard on the “Voice of Palestine” station about a car set on fire and “Price Tag” graffiti in Dahariyya. We hurry to the car.
On our way out of the city we see another squad of soldiers, this time on the Worshippers’ Route, also going to H1 neighborhoods.
Something’s going on during this quiet morning in Hebron.
The balloon floats in the sky above .
We drove to the entrance to Dahariyya. Close to last month’s arson location there’s again a car burned next to a house.
Sprayed on a stone wall: “Price Tag! Congratulations to [illegible].”
Someone came to “celebrate” with the Palestinians.
The residents report that the wife heard the arsonists at 3 AM, but they didn’t see anything. Hagit notifies Ohad Hemo and sends photographs.
If there aren’t enough topics for the news reports, all Israel will hear of it.
The Israel police came and left a copy of the complaint and telephone contact numbers, if necessary.
They don’t really know what to do with it. Nor have we anything to add other than to explain what the documents are. More press photographers arrive, interview people and take pictures.
The chronicle of occupation. A chronicle of settler terror and violence.