Hebron

From Bethlehem we travelled to Hebron, which for me and my buddy Noah encapsulates The Conflict at its most intense. It is in Hebron that Israelis and Palestinians have an immense amount of friction, partly because it is where some of the more extreme elements can be found.

In the Palestinian section of Hebron, there is a fence that covers that top of the market, to catch the trash that the Settlers throw at the Palestinians. There are Jewish houses that literally overlook the Palestinian streets, so Israeli soldiers patrol the rooftops to make sure things don't escalate, as they are wont to do.

Inside Jewish Hebron is a different story. Like the Dheishah refugee camp, there, too is a mural depicting one side's version of history, starting with Talmudic-era Jews in Hebron through Arab attacks on its Jewish residents in the early 1920s through its "liberation" and the return of the (so-called) exiled Jews. The chasm between the Jewish and Palestinian narratives regarding these places are mind-boggling. The starting points are galaxies away, almost like parallel universes.

Noah and I, being Jews, got to walk around the Jewish neighborhood in Hebron, fenced-off from the rest of the city and guarded by soldiers. I wanted to make the most of the opportunity. I walked past an apartment located inside a Yeshiva and heard people talking. I poked my head in and said, "Anybody home? Can I come in?" in Hebrew. "I don't see why not," a calm, welcoming voice answered back, also in Hebrew.

Inside was an elderly British-Jewish man, his wife who had late-stage Alzheimer's, and a Filipino caregiver. Soon we were all talking and laughing in English, the man giving us tea biscuits and glasses of water. He was incredibly kind. He reminded me so much of my grandfather, it was erie. And yet there he was, living in an extremely controversial place that is the subject of some of the most vitriolic criticism in the world. I didn't know what to make of it except thank him for the tea biscuits.

Within minutes I found myself literally on the other side of the fence, in a Palestinian home, drinking coffee. The father pointed out how his son had lost part of his vision when a Settler had thrown a Molotov cocktail through his window (which, in reality, would be quite easy to do. The apartments actually face each other with just a narrow alley in between). We also went to visit the "Christian Peacemaker Team," which is essentially a group of Christians of all denominations who act as an observing and monitoring presence in Hebron, documenting the acts of Israeli soldiers and walking Palestinian children to school (otherwise, the children are attacked by Settlers, according to people there).

To complete the unreality of Hebron, I went to the tomb of some of the greatest biblical patriarchs and matriarchs: Abraham, Sarah, Jesse, and Ruth. Bizarrely, Israeli solders again ask you about your religion outside the site, and your answer at that moment completely determines whether you have access or not, with no way to verify the truth of your pronounced religious beliefs. There are some places where saying I was Jewish was like a golden ticket. But there were other places were the same statement means I'm barred. Same goes for Muslims and Christians. The last, and perhaps only, thing I'll say about Jesse's tomb is that it was entirely deserted when we went there, barely marked, unkempt and clearly not well maintained. It made it seem like it was all for nothing.