"In order for me to write poetry that is not political, I must listen to the birds, and in order to hear the birds, the war planes must be silent." - Marwan Makhoul
As human beings, we often have a tendency to only recognize a single version of the truth. Accepting which ever version makes the most sense to us. Often we accept this truth blindly, without question, based on our environment and social conditioning.
It was only later in life, when I discovered that two truths can co-exist in the same realm of reality as one another. A singular truth has the equivalence of a double-sided coin, no matter which side you flip, the coin will reflect the same value of worth on either side. This is the story of how I unearthed this value, not of the coin itself, yet in the perspective the coin fortuned me with. The value of being able to accept two versions of the truth simultaneously by adopting a dual narrative perspective.
For as long as I can remember, I had always faced an identity crisis. Despite being born in Israel, I grew up my entire life in South Africa. I never felt as though I truly belonged anywhere nor identified with any specific culture or religion. My desire for belongingness urged me to delve into the exploration of my own past.
It all began when I was nineteen years old, I decided to take a bus ride alone from Tel-Aviv to Jerusalem. I had an unsettling desire to learn more about Jerusalem's historical context and attempt to understand the controversial political divide that segregated the communities that live there. On the drive there, an Israeli soldier sat beside me on the bus while casually carrying a Tavor assault rifle across his lap. It was the first time I witnessed a man carrying a gun on a bus, it made me anxious. However, I knew that these type of sightings are part of the cultural norm in Israel.
Both Israeli men and women have to serve mandatory time in the army service after finishing high school; three years for boys and two years for girls.
Once I arrived in Jerusalem, I came to discover ‘A dual narrative tour of Hebron’. The significance of ‘dual narrative’ simply implied that I would receive insights from both a Jewish as well as a Muslim tour guide into one of the most politically and culturally divided sectors of the West Bank.
When I told my family about this expedition and my curiosity to discover this uncharted territory, they all told me I was crazy. Which gave me even more incentive to go. Many people around the world might not have even heard of ‘Hebron’, however this small town plays a pivotal role in the ripple effect of the Israeli-Palestinian political dispute. Located roughly an hour outside of the city of Jerusalem, Hebron is a small town occupied by both Jews and Palestinians residents.
Historical Context
Although there once was a time when these two parties lived in harmony with one another, in today’s reality, this is not the case. Hebron was believed to originally be part of the rightful homeland to both the Jewish and Arab people, dating back to the Roman Empire. However, in 1917 after World War I, the British occupation seized control over dominant regions in the Middle East, following the fall of the Ottoman Empire. This brewed significant tensions between the Jews and Arabs, which resorted in a culminated series of violent events over 'rightful claims to the land'.
In 1920, the British Mandate for Palestine, established by the League of Nations, was aimed at facilitating the establishment of a Jewish homeland in the region while also safeguarding the rights of the Arab population.
However, tensions grew increasingly complex which resorted in the Hebron Massacre of 1929. The city of Hebron was home to a small Jewish community, and its presence was a source of resentment among Palestinian Arabs. This triggered an outbreak of violence at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, which was a site sacred to both Jews and Muslims.
In 1936, the British established the Peel Commission to investigate the causes of the Arab-Jewish violence and unrest in Mandatory Palestine. The commission's report is significant in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict because it initially proposed a partition plan as a solution to the ongoing conflict, primarily the recommended partition of Mandatory Palestine into two separate Jewish and Arab states. It proposed the establishment of a small, independent Jewish state in a portion of the region, along with a land exchange between the two communities.
Key Events
Rejection of the Proposal: However, despite the efforts of the Peel Commission partition proposal, both sides had rejected the plan and it failed to gain the necessary support for implementation.
Arab Revolt: The Arab population in Palestine continued its resistance against British rule and Jewish immigration. The Arab Revolt, which began in 1936 and predated the Peel Commission's report, continued until 1939. It involved acts of violent strikes by Palestinian Arabs.
White Paper of 1939: In response to the ongoing violence and as a result of the Arab Revolt, the British government issued the White Paper of 1939. This policy document limited Jewish immigration to Palestine and proposed the establishment of a single, independent state in which Jews and Arabs would share power and live in harmony. This was a departure from the Peel Commission's partition proposal.
World War II: The outbreak of World War II in 1939 had a significant impact on the situation in Palestine. During the war, Jewish immigration to Palestine was limited due to restrictions imposed by the British authorities.
Post-War Developments: After World War II, the issue of Jewish survivors of the Holocaust seeking refuge and the increasing Jewish population in Palestine intensified international focus on the situation.
United Nations Involvement: In 1947, the United Nations Special Committee on Palestine (UNSCOP) was formed to assess the situation and make recommendations. UNSCOP's report led to the United Nations General Assembly passing Resolution 181 in November 1947, which called for the partition of Palestine into separate Jewish and Arab states.
Declaration of the State of Israel: Following the United Nations resolution, Israel declared its independence on May 14, 1948. The Arab states rejected the UN's plan, and the declaration of the State of Israel was followed by the first Arab-Israeli War, known as the '1948 Arab-Israeli War'.
Continuation of the Conflict: The establishment of Israel as a state naturally resulted in a political dispute and an outcry amongst Palestinians already living in the region - a conflict that still persists even until this day.
In 1997, The Hebron Protocol divided the city into two sectors: zone H1, controlled by the Palestinian National Authority, and zone H2, whereby 20% of the city (including 35,000 Palestinians) were under Israeli military rule. Therefore, the question remains, who has the rightful claim to the land? In my opinion, neither. Neither parties have rightful claim to the land, because essentially the concept of owning land is a man-made egoistic approach to displaying dominance of power. The land was there long before both parties ever even existed. The land is neutral, the land holds no ownership to be claimed. However, in reality, I assume the politically correct answer to this question would then have to be both. Both parties have equally the same amount of rights to the land as its opposite. I soon realized that this conflict goes far beyond a mere territorial dispute, but rather it stems from the differences of identity and ideology.
Now coming back to the story of how I spontaneously ended up in a military war-zone for the day. It all came back to the moment I hopped off the bus and stood at the West Bank border patrol station. We were standing at the main gate surrounded by government officials and militia troops. Suddenly, our tour guide Gabriel pulled me aside from the group. “You have a foreign passport right? Because they won’t allow anyone with an Israeli passport to enter.” He informed me in Hebrew just as we were about to go through the metal detectors crossing the border into Palestinian territory.
I could feel beads of sweat form on the palms of my hands, there was no denying I was nervous. I slid him my South African passport, and he seemed relieved. “Good. I was worried we would have to leave you behind.” He joked, and I forced a laugh trying not to show my discomfort.
“Listen, once you cross the border, I can no longer be your guide. You will be in Palestinian territory which means Mohammed will take over from me and he will guide you.” This time I could not hide my expression. “Don’t worry, you will be fine.” He reassured me with a pat on the back, and left me with the others at the border patrol. While passing through the metal detectors, I was body searched aggressively by the police. Gabriel told me that Palestinians crossing the border to go to work everyday have to be body searched like this on a regular basis.
I was in disbelief when I came out the other side. I glanced around me and I felt like I was standing in no-man’s land. The town resembled a post-war ghost town with an unsettling presence of military forces occupying every perimeter of the streets. The buildings were run down and incurably dilapidated, most of them had evident damage from bombing grenades and crumbles of bricks falling apart at the seam of the foundation. It was not a pleasant sight. While walking down the street, a group of kids, young boys around the ages of ten and twelve were kicking around an old soccer ball. One of the boys gazed up at me, as if he had never seen a women revealing so much skin before. I suddenly felt self-conscious about my clothing. Doubting if I even dressed appropriately to be walking around this type of neighbourhood.
“Keep it moving.” Mohammed hurried the group down an alleyway. When I glanced back at the young boy with the soccer ball, I saw that he was stopped by one of the Israeli soldiers who confiscated his ball away. My heart sank.
After Gabriel departed from us, I realized that Mohammad could gain us access to certain restricted areas where Jewish people were banned from. That being, the Abrahami Mosque. This was the first time I had ever set foot inside of a Muslim Mosque before in my life. It was quite an experience entering the premise bare feet onto the finely woven red carpets. As a woman, I had to cover every inch of skin on my body with a heavy cloak. The inside of the Mosque itself was simply an artwork of its own, the ceiling was decorated in a calming turquoise colour with immaculate handwork of floral patterns on the ceilings. Old Arabic scriptures lay in golden tombs throughout the room.
I learned that this site holds immense symbolic meaning for both Muslims and Jews, and it is known by different names to reflect the religious traditions associated with it. For Muslims, it is commonly referred to as the 'Abrahami Mosque' - honouring the Islamic tradition that identifies the site with the patriarch Abraham. For Jews, it is known as 'The Holy Tomb of the Patriarchs' emphasizing its significance as the burial place of the biblical patriarchs. The site has both a mosque and a synagogue, allowing for a place of worship and prayer by both faiths.
Afterwards, Mohammed took us into the home of his family, where they prepared for us a traditional homemade Arabic meal. A Fattoush salad, with pita, hummus, labneh and za’atar. They were very warm and kind-hearted people, they shared with us personal stories of what their life was like living as Muslims in a military-run town like Hebron. Mohammed told us about the bombings of their children’s school, the strict curfew regulations, and the overall lack of freedom they had as people within society. After the meal, Mohammed shared with me something I will never forget. He began explaining to me his biggest concern as a parent.
"What kind of future does my child growing up in this type of neighbourhood have to look forward to? If they ever make it out of this neighbourhood, then I will be proud."
After the tour was over, my heart felt heavy in my chest. The entire bus ride home I could not stop thinking about something Gabriel told us at the start; that the name of 'Hebron' is derived from the Hebrew translation of ‘Haber’ which means ‘friend’ and in Arabic it is known as 'al-Khalil', which means 'the city of the beloved'. After what I had just experienced, the meaning of Hebron could not be further from the truth. This made me understand that there are always two sides to every story. Growing up as an Israeli, you always only ever get told one version of the narrative; but on this specific day I learned to accept another version of the truth. I learned to accept that the double-sided coin has the same value on both sides. A dual reality, where two truths co-exist. That is why the ability to acknowledge another person by putting yourself in their shoes is a rare quality of perspective that not many people possess. I strongly believe that by adopting this stance to any situation, it enables us to have a deeper rooted sense of understanding and compassion. Because at the end of the day, despite what religion, nationality, or beliefs one identifies with, at the core of our existence, we are are all just human-beings.
“The day Jews and Muslims learn to put aside their differences and have the same level of compassion and willingness to learn one another's story, is the same day the conflict in the Middle East will be resolved.”
Beautifully written!