Tarik visits his father

After we had our short tour of Jewish Hebron (H2) by Rabbi Simcha Hochbaum, we met the organizer of our homestays for the night Tarik Natsheh, who also is Sammi’s brother, on the fringe of H2. This 20% of Hebron reminded me of a 21^st century ghost town, resembling London in the film 28 Days Later. The eeriness was unsettling if not unnerving. The only presence in this ghost town is the marshals, the Israeli Defense Force. They are visible on every corner and every abandoned building. Armed with M16s and dressed in full combat uniforms, streets become more reminiscent of East Berlin following WWII. Every shop on every street is closed and show no sign of life behind their sealed garage doors. The windows from the apartments above the stores are enclosed in metal cages protecting the children who are looking out at us this very day from the settlers who throw rocks at them and their families. As I stated earlier, within H2 reside 500-1,500 Jews and 25,000-50,000 Palestinians. All Palestinians have to go through military checkpoints, including passing through metal detectors and presentation of identification to enter H2. Once in H2, there are numerous settler only streets, thus making Palestinian travel on these roads illegal. Further, in other areas of H2 Palestinians are harassed by both the settlers and the IDF. Given the sociopolitical situation, I am going to go back to Tarik Natsheh and share with you our shared experience in H2.

After we met just inside a military checkpoint in H2, we briefly visited the mosque in the neighborhood. Ironically, the mosque, where in 1994 a Jewish settler killed 29 worshippers and wounded 125 others, is directly adjacent to the area synagogue. After we left the mosque we were standing on the street discussing this area with Tarik. In conversation we discovered that his father had passed away from a heart attack in 2000 and had been one of the leaders of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). Tarik’s father, who in no uncertain terms was his hero, had been laid to rest in a cemetery that was roughly a block and a half away from us and was clearly visible from where we were standing. However, he had not visited his father’s grave since a month after his death. This was not by choice, but was instead dictated by the Palestinian reality. Immediately after passing through the stone gates into the cemetery, he was assaulted by Israeli soldiers and was lying on the ground with M16s pointed at his head. The physical and verbal message was clear, never return to this cemetery and he didn’t, until today. We made a decision to accompany Tarik to the cemetery, so he could visit his father’s grave once more. Although the road to the cemetery was closed to Palestinians during and after the 2^nd Intifada, the presence of internationals made the journey possible, as soldiers are unlikely to take action when internationals are present. We entered the cemetery within sight of several soldiers and escorted Tarik to his father’s grave. His appreciation was clear and his emotional response so powerful that it became one of the most powerful experiences of my own life and something I will never forget.