Everyone and Everything in Hebron (Just to See part 1)

“So, why are you here?” the soldier asked curiously, not threateningly.
“Oh, just to see,” I said in that gentle voice I had learned to employ when speaking with anyone who is regularly threatened or mocked or bothered—which is everyone in Hebron.

Every single person in and around that old city has been threatened whether ideologically, spiritually, psychologically, or physically. The soldiers in Hebron have been stoned by Palestinian kids and called oppressive for following orders. The international observers and NGO workers in Hebron have endured physical violence and structural opposition to their well-meaning work. The Palestinian elders in Hebron have struggled awkwardly to maintain some level of economic viability even as their ancient home is systematically shut down in the name of security. The settlers in Hebron have been deemed “the crazy ones” for their ideologies, understanding of history, and radical (often violent and illegal) implementation of their ideals. The tourists in Hebron have been nerve-wrecked by warnings from everyone as they pilgrimaged to the burial site of the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of the faith. The school children in Hebron have grown up around literal cages, checkpoints, identification cards and barriers communicating nothing but criminality to their vulnerable minds. The very walls and archways of the place have been spray painted with directives in Hebrew, they crumble in disrepair, or they are stopped up by spiraling barbed wires and cement. Everyone and everything in Hebron feels affronted.

I have developed a new sort of behavior that might be helpful—naiveté, innocence, interest, confusion, and concern. Those things are not threatening. And every bit of it is genuine. I speak with honest wonder in my voice and emulate the kindness I’ve seen demonstrated by the other international Peacemakers here in Hebron.

This is why it made sense when the soldiers would approach me, as they often did, and ask the usual questions: What are you doing? How long are you here? Where are you staying? Where are you from? Why are you here? Our interaction would usually start with their slow approach toward me or a bit of purposeful eye contact. When the soldier was close enough I would say “Shalom” and smile or nod.

Of course, my presence makes things awkward—who ever wants to be watched? And who wants to be watched in the midst of what some might call a national scandal.