Hebron, South Hebron Hills, Tarqumiya, Mon 17.12.12, Morning

Observers: 
Hagit B. and Michal Tz. (reports)
17/12/2012
|
Morning

 

Translator:  Charles K.

 

Tarqumiyya

We entered this morning via the Tarqumiyya crossing.  At this hour – 09:30 – there are no laborers; all have crossed.  Many cars parked on the Palestinian side.

They behave well in this direction.  The landscaping is “glorious.”  All the trees that were planted are wrapped in netting that gives them a consistent shape.  Even the checkpoint’s trees aren’t allowed to spread their branches naturally.  Ordnung muss sein.

 

Highway 35

as usual. One roadblock into Hebron, opposite the Khil house, has been reopened.

 

Hebron

Truth be told, we entered apprehensively from either side after the recent incidents where cars were also stoned.  Hebron is quiet.   If someone hadn’t read the papers last week they’d think the occupation was routine.

Children everywhere; teachers are striking because they haven’t been paid.

The checkpoint at Curve 160 is manned as usual by Border Police soldiers.  They look relaxed.  We keep asking ourselves, “why do they also need a checkpoint there?”

 

Three buses are parked near the Cave of the Patriarchs.  They’d brought soldiers, participants in some course.  Probably “Monday Heritage Day.”  Where are they headed?  To the cemetery for the Tarpa”t martyrs.  Then they’ll doubtless be taken to the museum of the Jewish settlement in Hebron.  When they were in high school they took a trip to see where the Jews of Europe died, and now they’re being taken to see where the Jews of Hebron died.  The victim-narrative-creation machine is working well.

 

The Tarpa”t checkpoint is quiet.  Only the remnants of dispersing the demonstrations lie everywhere.  Shuhadah Street is empty.

 

At the Pharmacy checkpoint Nahal soldiers ask us to be careful.  “They threw stones at us only half an hour ago.”  “They throw stones and flee,” say the soldiers.

True, the entire road is strewn with stones of all sizes.  The soldiers aren’t wearing helmets.  “Wear them,” we ask.  They mumble something, grin but don’t put them on.

 

Men, women and children cross as usual.  No one is detained.

 

We can’t stop thinking:  how superfluous is the army’s presence there, and how much it damages

e v e r y o n e.