Shuhada Street is where the most extremist, violent, hate-filled settlers live. It's where David lives, armed with his 9mm, within the walls of Beit HaShalom. Because of the Settlement and the presence of 400 settlers defended by 2000 Israeli troops, a major portion of the Hebron Souk has been shut down, welded closed, and tagged with the Star of David. Many Palestinians have chosen to relocate. Some have chosen to stay.
Once upon a time, the Hebron Souk was a thriving location of Palestinian commerce. This was the place where men and women would come to buy, sell, and trade their goods. It was the space where friendships were forged, families worked together, parents negotiated love, and a collective future was imagined. Now, it is nothing more than an Israeli controlled ghost town augmented with reality-creating language.
One image in particular caught my attention. Tagged on a "temporary" cement barrier wall was the image of the "3rd Temple." This is the one that Zionists believe will be built on the Temple Mount where the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque currently stand. Naturally, this would only occur if Israel became an ethnic state and held dominion over every square inch of "the Land." The building of the 3rd Temple would require the demolition of the Dome and Al Aqsa. The image, tagged near Beit HaShalom, communicates a presumed and desired future.
It was an eerie, hair-raising experience to be a part of a large group of Americans walking down Shuhada Street in the middle of the day in complete silence. The only signs of life were the occasional movements from within the Israeli guard towers and the overgrown vines that threatened to forever close off what used to be homes and thriving storefronts.
Two Palestinian kids courageously followed us trying to seduce us into buying their goods: beaded key chains and Palestinian bracelets. I loved what they were selling, but didn't feel like buying...nor did anyone else in our delegation. They disappeared as we neared Beit HaShalom. They knew David well and did not want to be seen by him or any of his people.
After the brief, troubling lecture by David in which he asserted, "We didn't conquer or occupy...we took what was ours." we were on our way again. Our two young Palestinian salesmen materialized and resumed the peddling of their goods. I took another look and found myself fond of a specific key chain that presented the Palestinian flag in strands of beads. We had been told that we were heading to what was left of the Hebron Souk, so I held off.
A few meters down the road, we came to a Checkpoint: another safety valve to protect the settlers of Beit HaShalom. As we approached the gate, one of the Palestinians barked, "You people are horrible! You listen to them and not to us?!"
I didn't understand until shortly thereafter what had just happened.
As we made our way through the Checkpoint and into the epicenter of Hebron, a bustling downtown, I recognized that we hadn't gone to the Hebron Souk. I inquired of one of the ethicists and primary guides of our experience as to why.
"Too dangerous." was his short response. "Besides, we're late for a meeting with the mayor of Hebron!"
As we piled into our bus, the words spoken by the Palestinian peddler made sense. We, an American delegation seeking to hold dual narratives in tension, had walked Shuhada Street but we had not also walked the remnant of the Hebron Souk. We were in the West Bank and had just blatantly stood in solidarity with the some of the most extreme settlers in the country.
Six days later, as my entire suitcase was dumped out, checked, and re-checked for explosives at Ben Gurion, I looked on the floor behind the young Israeli conducting the search. There, next to the garbage can, was the very key chain that had drawn my eye that day on Shuhada. I imagined that someone had chosen to stand in solidarity with the oppressed, only to have the souvenir discovered and discarded of at the airport.
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