Determined to Stay: Part III

The street was so congested it was hard for traffic to move, and pedestrians were forced into the street.

Madaa had lost the space where the women’s cooperative used to be to settlers; the women had just moved into a building that also housed some office space, a double apartment with a large cement deck in front.

One of the women asked if I wanted sugar in my tea as she put spoonful after spoonful in her own cup. When I said “No, thanks,” she explained: “Life is bitter here and I can’t make it sweet. But my tea, I can make it as sweet as I want.”

I didn’t have a map and it was hard to orient myself because the streets inside the Old City looked so different.

Hebron used to be one of the most vibrant shopping areas in the Middle East.

But in order to protect a small number of Israeli settlers, the Israeli military imposed a “principle of separation” on large sections of the city. Most of the Old Quarter was shut down, forcing out hundreds of residents and shop owners, to create a street for the Israeli settlers. Palestinians are not allowed to even walk on the street.

I could tell the Palestinian houses, topped with water cisterns, from the houses of the settlers, hung with blue and white Israeli flags.

I was worried that the family wouldn’t remember me, but as soon as we walked in, Lena came barreling down the hall and gave me a big hug.

He had created a beautiful kitchen and living area, with big windows—the largest I saw in Palestine—and balconies on two sides. You could see virtually all of Silwan spread out below.

When I was very young, the settlers weren’t that strong. They were nervous to be in Silwan and they weren’t that aggressive.

Then we had dinner: a large tray of yellow rice with ground lamb, potatoes, vegetables and chicken, garnished with almonds and served with yogurt.

The visiting room was run by cold and hostile guards.

I was never sure which was harder to see—the young men trying to connect with their children, surreptitiously holding hands with their wives and girlfriends under the table, or the old men like Kalima, pushing walkers, bent over from years of prison life.

I had learned so much about the US criminal justice system from Kalima. Seeing how arrests and incarceration were affecting families in Silwan, I felt overwhelmed by the parallels.

A few days before, I had seen the sewing teacher balanced precariously on a chair at the end of our deck. She was picking leaves from the grapevine growing up the wire fence that kept us from falling off the deck onto the street below.

For thirteen days they left us all day handcuffed, lifted up, suspended against the wall.

I went to the [Israeli] Ministry of Education and tried to get back into school.

“We know from statistics that they target people, including children, who have been arrested before. It’s like a stigma. Whenever something happens in this neighborhood, the first people who are arrested and interrogated are the people who have a record.”

And then the air was filled with Israeli music and singing, coming from several directions, different songs clashing and competing with each other. It was so loud I knew they were blaring from loudspeakers, not drifting from air-conditioned rooms.

We object to the fact that the ruins of the past have become a political tool in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and work to challenge those who use archaeological sites to dispossess disenfranchised communities.

We object to the fact that the ruins of the past have become a political tool in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and work to challenge those who use archaeological sites to dispossess disenfranchised communities.

The United Nations has consistently refused to recognize Israeli control of any of Jerusalem.

According to the UN, a “comprehensive, just, and lasting solution” needs to be determined by negotiation.

Jerusalem is so beautiful, and the Palestinian history is barely beneath the veneer.

Emek Shaveh’s offices were a few rooms in a modest building divided among several nonprofits, a striking contrast to the large modern office buildings only a block away.

Emek Shaveh’s offices were a few rooms in a modest building divided among several nonprofits, a striking contrast to the large modern office buildings only a block away.

Now they’ve built an amphitheater near the plaza at the City of David. The plan is to turn it into a music venue with rock stars and local performers. It’s another way to take over the space, this time with cultural events.

“I know that Emek Shaveh has worked hard to document how Elad and the Israeli Antiquities Authority are using archeology to take over Palestinian homes and to erase a lot of the history of the area,” I said.

Unfortunately, to Israelis, the narrative of a united Jerusalem is very strong. It’s hard for them to let go of the euphoria that came with conquering the Old City in 1967.

Most Israelis say, ‘We will never relinquish sovereignty over the Old City.’

Most Israelis say, ‘We will never relinquish sovereignty over the Old City.'

The success of the right-wing movement is that they are incorporating more and more Palestinian land into what Israelis consider the nonnegotiable territory of the Old City.

Mired in my own thoughts, I got lost.

It’s called the Dignity Strike. The prisoners’ demands are about their human rights in prison.

After forty days, the prisoners won a negotiated settlement, which included improved healthcare, increased family visits, and use of the canteen.

The intricacy of the embroidery was amazing—complicated geometric designs in red and white cross stitch on black fabric; red and green on white fabric.

The intricacy of the embroidery was amazing—complicated geometric designs in red and white cross stitch on black fabric; red and green on white fabric.

The emcee was a girl of eleven or twelve; she did a great job of keeping the program moving and the enthusiasm high.

As Jawad got ready to leave, I told him how impressed I had been with the children’s performances at the hafla, and with the community spirit that had pervaded the event.

I had learned so much about Silwan from the interviews and from watching how everyone here squeezed life into the cracks and crevices of the occupation: providing the children with as much love and support as possible, building resistance to the destruction of Silwan into every piece of their lives, holding on to Palestinian culture in every hip-hop performance, every meal, every embroidery stitch.