Our guide, a Barcelona fan (I know this as we shared about retelling the story of the Liverpool Barcelona game), tells me that he can’t join us as we cross to the other side of the road.
He’s Palestinian and his movement is restricted.
Earlier he had been showing us the tourist attraction of the grave of Isaac. This has two access points. One for the Jewish people and the other was for the Palestinians. One side has bullet proof glass.
As we left an area we say three Palestinian teenagers get serached. We keep walking and our guide says I’ll meet you at the other side.
We walk through deserted streets. And streets with posters saying “Welcome to Hebron: the cradle of Jewish Civilisation”.
A few days later on the top of the Alrowwad centre in Aida Camp. I was staring at Rachel’s tomb. It was hidden behind a wall. Earlier that day I had read a poem of another child dying in the shadow of her tomb. It was all too much for me.
Broken.
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| (a friend sent this to me as I was starring at Rachel's tomb... the moment it all seemed too much) |
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