March 13, 2007
After a visit to the city of Hebron and then to a refugee camp,
I found myself thinking, “I'd rather live in the refugee
camp.”
I never imagined I would have such a thought. I was traveling
with a group of international participants that Sabeel was hosting
for their spring “Witness Visit.” We went all over
the West Bank, met with mayors, priests, political leaders, and
regular people to hear about what they’re going through.
So many stories have come out of this “Promised Land”—Bible
stories, the rich historical accounts, the political promises.
People often talk about the “facts on the ground,”
which are different from what one finds outside of Israel and
the territories that Israel is controlling. The facts can be interpreted
in many ways, even to the point of justifying injustice. I am
bothered by the lack of information in mainstream media. I’m
bothered that people abroad don’t get all the facts. That’s
why Sabeel has “Witness Visits”—so that people
from abroad can come and see for themselves the beauty, history,
and the reality that affects everyone living here. “The
shadow falls on both sides of the wall,” I heard one of
the participants say.
I have never experienced a place as dismal as Hebron. This town
near Bethlehem is notorious for having the most violent Israeli
settlers living next door to Palestinians. We were shown around
town by a few people from the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT),
and told not to wander off. Normally, I do wander off from the
group, as I like to explore on my own, but in Hebron that did
not even enter my mind. Even though I stuck with the group, I
still encountered typical Hebron tension.
In Hebron, aggressive Israeli settlers drop bricks, trash, and
such at passers-by. The Israeli army put up fencing over the
sidewalk to protect pedestrians.
As we rounded a corner in the marketplace, I heard the familiar
“click-click” of the unlatching of a safety on an
automatic weapon. I turned to see four Israeli soldiers heading
out on patrol. One of them aimed his gun at me for a moment. Perhaps
it was not the best day to be wearing my bright red “Palestinian
Liberation Theology” T-shirt. I felt exposed, but not just
because of the soldiers. I was uneasy from walking down the streets,
where the Israeli Army has put fencing over the main walkway to
keep the bricks, glass bottles, trash, etc. that the settlers
throw down from hitting pedestrians below. Our CPT guide said
that on his first day in the city, a settler threw a bunch of
sand down on him.
I also encountered the rough Palestinian kids, who are known
for their course language and tomato throwing. They are daily
harassed by settlers, and not respected by the soldiers, so I’m
not surprised they lack respect for visitors. They greeted our
group by attempting to hit us with empty plastic bottles, and
saying various cuss words. Still, as our group paused to hear
the CPT leader explain something, I chatted with a small group
of the kids. Things were going well, as I was glad to use some
of my Arabic. One boy, about 9, asked for money. I hate to refuse,
but I honestly didn’t have any change. Besides, I couldn’t
give to one child, and not to the rest. Despite our nice chat
moments before, the boy kicked me hard as I turned to go. I was
surprised by my initial reaction when I turned and wanted to grab
his arm or something. He looked at me, with no fear, no hesitation,
and no indication of any wrongdoing. I just put my hand on his
shoulder, made the “tisk-tisk” sound that I hear Palestinian
mothers make when their children misbehave, and said “ya
habibi.” (oh, Sweetie). As I walked away, I tried to ignore
the cuss words the kids were saying.
Girl’s school at Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem, which
has sheltered refugees since 1948.
The next day we went to the Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem. Aida
Refugee Camp accommodates over 4,000 people (40 percent of whom
are under 18) who took refuge here in 1948 and 1967 from 35 different
villages in Palestine during the two Arab-Israeli wars. The children
have created several murals within the camp, showing the villages
where their families originated. The Youth Center encourages the
kids to express themselves creatively through art, photography,
writing, or sports. One of the Youth Center workers said often
the children draw pictures of guns, tanks, or helicopters, but
he looks forward to the day when they will only draw things like
trees or rainbows.
School let out as we were walking through the camp. I was cautious
to interact with the kids this time, and still sore from being
kicked the day before. But a group of giggly girls offered me
a piece of their sugary candy, and I quickly let go of my previous
hesitations. Even though the refugee camp feels welcoming and
normal, you can still see the bullet holes in the Girls’
School. The school was built by the UN, and has been caught in
the crossfire from various attacks. Still, if I were given a choice
to live in the Aida Refugee Camp, or Hebron, I’d choose
Aida. That will always be a strange thought to me.
Shannon
The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 170 |
