"This has been going on since the first Intifada in the eighties," remembers Daoud Jaber, a resident
of the neighborhood between the settlement and the mosque. "Since then, settlers have been coming and
going between our houses. Even in times of stability and security, we have been forbidden from using
this path on Fridays, Saturdays, and Jewish holidays. It's their road, and we can't use it to come or
go," he says.
Although there already exists a wide paved road leading to the Ibrahimi Mosque, many settlers prefer
the shortcut that winds through the Jaber neighborhood. One can hardly blame them - the walk is a
breezy traipse through an open-air museum. Craggy roofs stagger up the hilltop and gaping vaults
expose rooms that are de facto open courtyards. The domed houses are all constructed of large stone
blocks, and some have Arabic inscriptions paved into the walls. One entrance to the area is a
veritable maze of dark halls, arches, and doorways.
But since Palestinian fighters killed 12 soldiers and armed settler guards nearby on November 15,
this scenic pathway has been on shaky ground. The Israeli government declared that it would expand
settlement activity in Hebron, and then disclosed plans to forge a wide security road through the
Jaber neighborhood.
Perched on a hillside overlooking Hebron City and the surrounding countryside, the location is
clearly of strategic significance. And so on November 29, the Israeli army issued an order for the
"confiscation and absolute seizure" of land in the Jaber neighborhood for "military purposes."
Twenty-two historic buildings, eight of which are inhabited, are now slated for demolition to build
the new settler avenue. The destruction will directly affect approximately 110 families in the Jaber
neighborhood.
A monumental loss
"If only the city of Hebron were on the World Heritage List, there would be global uproar over the
demolition of these homes," bemoans Khaldoun Bshara, coordinator of conservation at Riwaq, the Center
for Architectural Conservation based in Ramallah. Work is underway to have Hebron listed as a
protected city, but it's a lengthy process, he says.
"Hebron is architecturally unique, it's what we call a village the size of a city," Bshara explains.
"Hebron has historically focused on agriculture, not commerce, and its peasant architecture is a
reflection of that. Many of the homes include stables, and the primitive stars and crescents used in
design are an extension of nature. The aesthetics are authentically local; there are no European
influences like those you find in Nablus," he adds.
A large section of Hebron's old city has already been lost - it was demolished by the Jordanian
government in 1964 to accentuate the approach to the Ibrahimi mosque, says Khalid Al Qawasami of the
Hebron Rehabilitation Center. The Jaber neighborhood, which stands on the other side of the Ibrahimi
mosque, forms the original southern entrance to the Old City. It comprises "an intrinsic part of the
historic surroundings of the Ibrahimi mosque," and its "historic buildings are the fabric that
strengthen the mosque, that provide its visual context," writes the HRC in a statement condemning the
planned demolition.
The Hebron Rehabilitation Center restored one home in the Jaber neighborhood several years ago, and
has developed plans to restore others, tile the pathways, and repair and enhance the infrastructure.
The center's goal is to preserve the city's heritage while reviving it as a living community, it
states. "This area is an integral part of the architectural fabric of old Hebron and it must be
preserved to protect the cultural heritage of the city," says Al Qawasami.
The HRC has twice begun its restoration work in the Jaber neighborhood, only to be stopped both times
by the Israeli army. "They don't want anyone living in this area," notes Daoud Jaber. "Last summer we
went for days without water; there are no services here at all. Because of the constant curfews, cars
can't come here - even ambulances can't come here - nothing. We are completely persecuted here, and
no one asks after us," he continues.
The settler graffiti says it all, comments Jaber's neighbor, Ziad Abu Armileh. "They wrote on our
neighbor's front door, 'Go away from here Arabs, leave!' and it wasn't until the foreign press came
and filmed it that the army painted it over."
Where "coexistence" failed
Umm Ayyad, a math teacher and resident of the Jaber area in Hebron, thinks that the Israeli
government has long been planning this settler-only road through the heart of her neighborhood. "The
recent attack on the Israeli army and settler guards only provided an excuse," she asserts. The
Palestinian ambush of armed Israelis was an opportunity to officially claim the road as their own,
she says.
Bshara agrees. He believes the demolition of Jaber area homes to build the settler road is a
continuation of tried and tested Israeli policies to erase Palestinian culture. "In 1948, the
Israelis wiped 400 Palestinian villages off the map and dispersed 800,000 residents," he said. "In
1967, when the Israelis occupied Jerusalem, the first thing they did was destroy the Moroccan quarter
of the old city, which contained many homes from the Mamluke period, to create the huge open plaza
before the Western Wall."
"Now they are again attacking Palestinian culture by destroying historical cultural property in
Hebron, repeating the strategy of 1948," he goes on.
While some believe the home demolitions and destruction of cultural ties are setting the stage for
the removal of Palestinians themselves, the polar dynamics of occupied Hebron are already placing
severe pressure on residents, driving some away.
In the Jaber neighborhood, settlers with automatic rifles slung over their backs weave their way past
locked homes. Settler girls laugh and skip along the path while Palestinian children are confined to
rooftops and overhanging metal grid windows. Soldiers raid Palestinian homes to inspect
identification cards and question the residents.
"Every day they come, every hour. First it's the army and then the settlers, then the army again,"
said Daoud Jaber. "The aim is that people get fed up and say 'I don't want to live here anymore.' The
people who are renting here, who don't own their homes, leave. They say, 'Why I am paying money for
this? It would be better to pay to live in a safer place.'"
Umm Ayyad remembers innumerable cases of harassment by settlers and soldiers. "They throw rocks at
us, and once a settler stole my laundry hanging out to dry," she related, exasperated by the
effrontery and exhausted by her inability to respond. Perhaps the most insulting incident she
experienced was when soldiers occupied her rooftop and urinated and defecated on her tiled patio
living space.
The city of Hebron is a live experiment in coexistence that has failed miserably, says Umm Ayyad, her
eyebrows permanently knit in frustration, and her green eyes flashing between fear and defiance.
"This is the only city where Palestinians and Israelis are living side by side, and look what its
come to," she decries. Umm Ayyad has been living in the Al Jaber neighborhood for 11 years, and the
presence of the settlers has only gotten more intrusive with time.
This last month has been perhaps the roughest of all for residents of the Jaber neighborhood. Fasting
for Ramadan and preparing for the Muslim holiday or Eid, residents have been placed under daily
curfew. Homeowners have been unable to appeal the demolition orders for their homes because the army
prohibits them from leaving the area. "Since the shooting, the situation has become extremely
difficult," says Abu Armileh, juggling a baby on his lap and the laundry drying on the line behind
him. "They treat us like we are all armed militants."
Source:
by courtesy & © 2002 The Palestine Report & Jennifer Peterson
by the same author:
