To Bethlehem.
After contacting about three different people on how to get to Bethlehem, Leah and I finally establish that I need to take the number 124 bus. According to the internet, I need to take the 24 or 21. After sitting down for about half an hour with some punkass teenager elbowing me and pushing someone into me, I ask where to go and am pointed in the right direction. I get into the bus and sit next to an Arabic Christian and ask many questions. He tells me it’s hard to learn conversational English and that the bus driver is a dick, I tell him Arabic is hard and that it’s because the bus driver is a Real Madrid fan. We laugh. He points at the Israeli settlements, to which I do not know too much about (a friend of mine from Poland told me that he had been in Palestine and that the settlers there threw rocks at the Palestinians). I arrive in Bethlehem and am immediately greeted by a Taxi driver who brings me to his car and tells me his prices. No one seems to use the meters anymore. He goes on to explain his prices and tours and I tell him I’m not interested in the places he advertises, but rather the people. After some discussion on religion, seeing the supposed birthplace of baby Jesus, and going to the place where Mary breast fed Jesus, I felt like it was time to get away from the touristic area. I think he assumed I was a run of the mill tourist as he seemed rather opinionated about the distance between potential hotels/sleeping areas and the town square. He drives me to this hotel/hostel and the price there is about 120 Shekel for a double room- I’m actually a single (I find it stupid that they charge these amounts, clearly Bethlehem gets its fair share of tourists, but if no one is going to stay in that room, why charge so high and not make any money at all?). The room is really nice, but I do not really care about the location and the services they have- kitchenette included- woohoo. I express interest in a refugee camp instead and my taxi driver tells me to consider the price, as I will be far from the town square. I tell him I will walk, and pay him 80 Shekels. He expresses disappointment.
“Other taxi drivers would charge 100 per hour…”
I hate when they do this bullshit. So he gives me some change and I hand him 10 Shekels (2 Euros), after then he insists on driving me to the refugee camp.
I arrive at the IBDAA Cultural Center and check in. I find an older American woman from Maine. She explains her situation and how she got here…
“Towards my departure date of leaving Maine, I was giving away everything I had. I considered keeping my car, but I was not sure how long I would be gone for, so I sold it. And the more I gave away, the easier everything became… The Palestinian people are losing their land from the Israeli settlers.” She pulls on her keffiyeh, revealing some cloth. “More and more, the Settlers are finding some excuse to mess or oppress them. Recently a settler family was murdered, so the Settlers put a Palestinian village and put them on a quarantine like status, so no one is allowed to enter or exit.” She pulls even more. “ And more evidence shows that it was actually their Thai house-servant, who the family was not paying despite promises of doing so.” The full keffiyeh exposed. “ Along with that, the Palestinian people have no business or do not even want to go into an Israeli settlement.”
She shows me a falafel place and some fruit stands- amazing avocados and oranges here and we split. I go to take a walk in the refugee camp and see many wall etchings made by an artist killed by the Mosad (Israeli CIA, responsible for tracking down the Fatah who killed the football/soccer team in Munich). After talking to some youths and eating falafel balls, I return to the IBDAA cultural center, sit on the floor, eat some avocados and oranges, and head upstairs to see what’s up. I take a stroll and am invited to a table where three Palestinian men are talking and watching the football game. A younger man that I call a Palestinian Chris Rock because of the way he spoke, tells me about life in Palestine, the treatment & discrimination, and the effects of said treatment and discrimination.
“You should go to Hebron to see what is happening. You have Settlements around the city and soon, they will form a wall. There are Settlers living in the center of Hebron and there are shops that have closed down. There are nets above the walkways to protect the people because the settlers throw rocks. In the center of the town, you will have four story building where the first floor inhabitants are Palestinians, and the rest are Settlers. The settlers all have guns and are ready to fire whenever. They are trained as soldiers. The Palestinian people do not have guns and do not have the training…”
I decide to go to Hebron the next morning. That night, however, I do some Couchsurfing in Morocco, and find a girl whose profile sports a Palestinian keffiyeh. I read her profile and see that she has images of True Torah Jews. After a Google search, I find out that there are actually Jewish people- although a minority- against Zionism. It reminds me of the days where I was younger and would question religion and play Devil’s Advocate with religion and evolution, along with my own beliefs, ultimately coming down to the conclusion that those that are defensive and attack others are usually those that are wrong.
The next morning I take a service Taxi to Hebron.
Along the way, I turn a sharp eye to any settlements. We pass by a supermarket that is in Hebrew- and barbed wire. Behind the said supermarket leads a road that is guarded to the settlement. Huge things they are. Only eight years old too.
So further along the road until we actually enter Hebron, I’m looking around and the city is absolutely filled with young Palestinians. The city also has a Mango store.
We arrive at the last stop and I have absolutely no idea where I am at, and it feels awesome. I do what I do, pick a direction and walk. Everyone I pass greets me until I find a falafel shop where the owner tells me to come have a seat. Another man comes in and offers to share some hummus with me. We talk about life in Palestine…
More walking and greeting, I see a shop with Keffiyehs hanging. I walk in and greet the man. I ask to see the keffiyehs and ask whether or not they are made in China or in Palestine. He tells me the cheap ones are from China- the other from Syria. For the next four hours, we would talk politics and religion. He blamed troubles on religion- somehow everything connects to the Jewish people. At the end of it, he sells me three keffiyehs for factory price and gives me his contact information. That’s how you bargain with Arabic people.
Almost time to leave, I decide to see the Mosque, which had been split into two- Judaism and Islam. An elderly man tells me to come to his shop and take a seat, I go with him and another man comes up and hands me sunflower seeds. I tell the elderly man I must go and I head in the direction of the mosque. Upon getting closer, I notice a few things that I had never seen in Hebron before: wire netting, child beggars, tourists and tourist shops. Then another man comes up to me and we start talking, we go through the checkpoint together.
At the top of the mosque is camouflage, probably for a gunman. We walk past the mosque and the man invites me to come over to his house. I politely refuse and tell him I have to go soon, but we continue in the same direction. We turn right and the street is barren. There are no shops open, down the road is an Israeli soldier standing there. We get to the point where I must turn back to return to Bethlehem. Upon closer inspection, I notice that the closed shop doors have graffiti on them in the form of the Star of David.
Chilling.
I go back, wave to those that I met before, and stop at a shop where the hanging keffiyehs made from Palestine seduce me. I exchange a keffiyeh made in Syria for one of his made in Palestine. He gives me a hat and I leave.
After countless questions on whether this or that bus goes to Bethlehem, I finally find one and it’s off to Bethlehem.
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen