CPTnet
24 November 2005

HEBRON REFLECTION: On hatred

by Maureen Jack

I'd not met him before. He was perhaps slightly older than I, and he was
wearing a green cap, not unlike my red CPT one. By his accent I could
clearly tell he was clearly originally from London, though he now lives in a
settlement. I said hello. "Fuck you. Screw you," he said.

We were standing across the street from an entrance to the Israeli
settlement of Beit Hadassah in Hebron. I was there with Anne and John (both
in their late seventies) and some other internationals on school patrol at
the foot of steps leading up to Qurtuba School, a school for Palestinian
girls. We were waiting for the girls to come down on their way home. He
was there with a group from Women in Green, an organization that supports
Israeli settlements. They were also there waiting for the schoolgirls.

The girls and female teachers started to make their way nervously down the
crumbled steps. The Israeli visitors pushed forward taking photos. We got
between them as best we could. I didn't document at all. I took no photos.
I had no idea of what went on around me. All I could see was the fear on
the faces of the women and girls. All I could feel was the tremor in their
hands as I helped them down. All I could hear was my faltering Arabic as I
tried to find something reassuring to say.

And then it was over. The girls and the teachers were all on their way
home. But the Israeli ex Londoner was not finished. "Have you got cancer
yet? I hope so," he said to me.

"Please don't say that. My husband died of cancer six years ago," I
replied.

"I am happy about that," he said.

What has this man's life been like that he has such hatred? How is he
feeling now? Is he thinking of me, as I am thinking of him? Is he weeping
now, as I am? And am I weeping for myself, or for him?