CPTnet  
17 June 2009
HEBRON REFLECTION: One little boy

by Barbara Martens
 
 
He was a little boy, with dark hair and hazel eyes like my eldest grandson.  He was even the same height, so I imagined him to be eight years old, just like my grandson.  He had the most frightened look on his face.  Six Israeli soldiers had him trapped.  They were rapidly marching downhill along the side street that leads to the main road going into the Old City of Hebron; the part of the city riddled by a roadway of tunnels close to the military post into which Palestinians disappear for questioning and beatings.  My partner on street patrol and I did not take long to size up the situation.  The Israeli soldiers literally had the boy by the scruff of his neck as they dragged him along.  There was no hovering adult walking alongside, who, if not able to help, could at least try to be with him.  
 
 As I quickly began walking alongside this patrol of Israeli soldiers, they dismissively waved me and my questions away.  I looked at the little boy, and tried to reach his outstretched hand.  The soldiers intervened.

Eventually I learned the nature of his crime.  He had thrown a stone at one of their military posts.  I pictured my grandson's myriad of toys.  This little boy did not have such a bounty of things to amuse him.  Stones can be fun and keep the boredom at bay for a little while.
 
As I struggled to reach the little boy's hand, I said to the soldier: " Don't you have little brothers who might play with stones?  Besides, he has only a stone.  You're the one who has a gun.  "The soldier responded, "His parents have not taught him not to throw stones.  We must teach him a lesson.  He is a terrorist."  It was not the first time I heard an Israeli soldier make such a preposterous statement.  I kept talking as I managed to put my arm around the openly crying, desperately frightened little boy.  The soldiers finally relented, and one little boy managed to go home unharmed.  But was he really unharmed?