September 8, 2001 — Mudeif Productions

*Palestinian children headed to school under Israeli curfew.*

*Crossing the barbed wire that marks Hebron’s closed military zone.*

Saturday is a school day for Palestinians and the Sabbath for Jews. Such has meant that the trip to and from school has been hairy at times. The military has orders to allow the children to go to school, even though the curfew is in effect. We went to a couple of different spots. Marthame joined one of the CPTers as soldiers were telling the children that it was forbidden to go a certain way and they must turn back (towards streets blocked with barbed wire). They then turned their attention to us in our red hats, claiming that we were now in a "Closed Military Zone" and would have to leave. When we asked to see the military order, they backed off, but it seems like they are beginning to concentrate new efforts to rid the place of all international presence. Eventually, one soldier arrived and gave permission for the children to go, irking the other soldiers who stood around. A small victory for education.

We then headed back to the apartment and shared in worship with the CPTers, singing a few hymns and doing a small Bible study (part of their daily routine, and particularly welcome since we have few opportunities for corporate worship in English). We stayed in the apartment for a while, as our journalist friend worked on his story with the Team.

Then Marthame and one of the CPTers went to meet a field worker for B'Tselem, the Israeli human rights' group, to give him information about the attack on the two team members. We met him at the concrete blocks that separate H1 from H2. It is a bizarre sight to come from one area where there are no people and all of the shops are boarded up (because of the strictly-enforced curfew) and to walk a few feet to where life is bustling and alive.

On our way back through the Old City, a woman stopped us and asked for our help (again, the red hats). Her nephew had died that morning, a 2 1/2 year old victim of settler violence. A stun grenade had been thrown into their home, and the fright had so panicked the child that he never recovered. She needed to head over to another part of the city to fetch a sheikh so that he could perform the final cleaning rituals necessary for the funeral. We accompanied her, and her fear of the settlers was palpable as we snuck through a graveyard to get to the sheikh's home. When we met up with the sheikh, he was intrigued to discover that we were Christians and that Marthame is a pastor. He wanted to practice his English, and apparently saw evangelism as a good way to do so: "I hope that you will study Islam to see that it is a good religion."

"I do see that it is a good religion, but I am a Christian."

"But we hope you will become a Muslim so that you will be in paradise." (note: such theology is actually contrary to the Koran's teaching) Marthame's urge was to suggest that the sheikh didn't need an escort anymore.

They made it into the Old City and off to the house. It was a strange moment to realize that the CPTers had become kind of an escort service, but it seemed a fitting demonstration of how absurd the situation really is that such a task is so needed.

*Abandoned H1 (Palestinian “controlled” ) area of Hebron.*

Elizabeth headed off with another of the CPTers to the same neighborhood, planning to return for the evening. When we arrived, shooting broke out between H1 and H2. Our journalist friend saw Israeli soldiers open fire from H2 down a busy street in H1. It was his assessment that this was the start of the evening's firefight, which lasted most of the evening. The statement about CPT's ineffectiveness in a full scale war came to mind, and one surreal scene followed another as gunfire accompanied the CPTer's Chiapas folk music CD. Marthame could see where the Israeli fire was hitting in Hebron's Abu Sneineh neighborhood from the CPT balcony.

Elizabeth and two others ended up staying another night in the same neighborhood as last night, as the shooting eventually subsided.