The Wall in Um Salamuna, Daily Life in Tel Rumeida

For the past week I have been living in Tel Rumeida, a neighborhood of Hebron. Tel Rumeida is essentially a prison. Palestinians are only allowed to enter the area by walking through a checkpoint. This means that they must go through metal detectors, have their bags searched, and often show their ID. Showing ID isn't a simple question of flashing a picture. It means that the soldier takes your identity card and calls in the number to make sure you're not wanted by the Israeli government for any reason. Depending on which of the various human rights groups you ask, it's "reasonable" to detain someone for between 20 to 45 minutes while they do this "security" check. Often it's much longer. Within the small neighborhood, there are two other less formal checkpoints. One of them is to keep Palestinians from walking on the part of the street that has been declared to be only for Israeli settlers. The other is placed at the top of the hill that nearly everyone has to walk up to get to their homes. At this checkpoint, the soldiers routinely make the men lift their jackets and spin around. I can see no reason for this except perpetual humiliation and control. Soldiers and police patrol the streets constantly.

Some settlers also walk around with guns. I saw one the other day with a baby on his hip and a gun slung over his shoulder. The settlers in Tel Rumeida are some of the most violent on the West Bank. The night I arrived, a mob of 50 settlers attacked a Palestinian home. They ripped the front door off its hinges and stole it, broke a water pipe, pulled off the doorbell, tore down part of the railing on the stairs, and smashed some stairs. The family called for help but when we attempted to leave our house, we found a mob of another 30 standing outside throwing stones at us. Eventually both mobs left, and we were able to get down to the Palestinian home. Two of us spent the night with one of the families because their mother had been detained, and the children were scared to stay there alone.
This is the first place I've been on the West Bank where it's hard for me to feel hope. Just being there is exhausting because you never know what's going to happen. For no apparent reason, things will suddenly explode. The main protection that the Palestinians have from the settlers is the army and police, who are comparatively much less violent. It feels dirty and horrible that this is who people must often turn to for help. They are forced to make a choice of whether to maintain relationships with their occupiers that aren't openly antagonistic, or to risk not having anyone to call to interfere with the frequent settler violence. Often the police and army do nothing either way.

Most doors to people's houses have been spraypainted with the Star of David, and their is graffiti everywhere with messages such as "Gas the Arabs," an especially scary sentiment given it's reference to the gas chambers used by the army during the Holocaust.



The army has started bulldozing for the wall in Um Salamuna, a village near Beit Ommar that I've written about previously. The first day the bulldozers came there was little international presence. Three Palestinians, including the mayor, were arrested for trying to block the destruction of their land, and many were severely beaten. Here's a story and pictures from that day.

The next day the people again went to the bulldozers. Internationals and Israelis, directed by the local Palestinians, climbed on top of two bulldozers while they were on break. For two hours we prevented them from working. Eventually, soldiers and military pulled us from the bulldozers. Six of us were arrested and taken to the Gush Etzion prison. See a video and pictures .

We were released after a few hours on the condition that we would not return to the site of our arrests for 15 days. The bulldozers kept working, the people are planning to go confront them daily.