At about 7:00 early Friday evening November 15th two CPTers passed through the always guarded Special Security Zone surrounding the Ibrahimi Mosque/Tomb of the Patriarchs. Suddenly they heard gunfire which seemed to be coming not too far beyond the Mosque in the direction of Kiryat Arba, the large settlement of ultra nationalist and religious Jews. Within seconds they heard answering shots but louder, which meant that Palestinians had probably fired first and that the military was firing back.
Suddenly four soldiers dashed tensely by in the direction of the shooting-their guns at the ready. "What's happening," a CPTer called out, not really expecting an answer, but he got one from the soldier bringing up the rear. "Welcome to Hebron," the trooper muttered as he raced by.
Minutes later the CPTers reached the Christian Peacemaker Team apartment, where within an hour the first inaccurate reports from the field began to make their way on to the internet and broadcast outlets. Several worshipers, soldiers, border policemen, and civilian armed security guards, it was being reported, had been ambushed, killed, and wounded.
Early the next morning several CPTers went to the scene of the shooting and offered condolences to the many settlers gathering there and also to many of the soldiers and Border Policemen stationed in the area. Settler tempers naturally were short. When I said, "Shabbat Shalom," to one who was carrying his young son on his shoulders, he kicked me just below the knee. Coincidentally it was the same man who months ago had screamed at me: "Our God will kill your God!" His reaction, however, was the only negative response that entire day to CPT's repeated words of empathy (except for some pre-adolescent settler kids who threw stones, but were finally shooed away by soldiers).
At midmorning, Amira Hass, the bold, blunt Haaretz correspondent, who for many years has lived in, reported from, and reflected in print on the debilitating impact of the occupation on the Palestinians in first Gaza and now the West Bank, called to ask if CPT would accompany her to the shooting site in the afternoon. By mid afternoon they were back in time to hear an Israeli Army officer explain to Israeli and international journalists that no worshipers had been killed, because their military guards had already safely escorted them back to Kiryat Arba. However, armed civilian resident security guards racing to the sound of the first shots were among the dead and wounded. Clearly the ambush was a traumatic event for the military and the settlement, "We made many mistakes…We lost control," the officer said.
While at the scene, a terrified Palestinian man whose home is at the side of the road leading from Kiryat Arba to the Mosque and closest to the settlement's entrance-no more than fifty yards from it-asked CPT to spend the night with his family in order to try to discourage collective settler retaliation. Previously broken windows and bullet holes indicated that his worries were far from unfounded; and a large after dark rally to take place about fifty yards further down the road had already been announced.
Four CPTers and Amira agreed to stay. At about 7:30, the rally began, attended by approximately 1500 angry settlers and protected by a large contingent of soldiers, Border Police, and civilian police. During the hour and a half of speech making, some settlers broke away and stormed into a nearby Palestinian street smashing car and truck windows and lights as they went.
Meanwhile Amira accompanied by CPT slipped from the Palestinian home and mingled in the crowd. Then as the rally began to break up, a group of increasingly agitated settlers began stoning the compound in which the worried family lived and in addition created a terrifying racket by beating furiously on its metal garage doors. That's when Amira made a conscious decision-she explained later-to jettison her reporter status on behalf of the terrified Palestinians. Followed by the CPTers, she waded through the crowd to a police car parked in front of the compound and demanded that the men do something to stop the abuse.
Two policemen got out not to interfere with the pelting and noisemaking but to protect one of their own stationed in the midst of the crowd. At the same time, settlers who had heard Amira's demand for protective action suddenly began turning primarily on Amira and secondarily on her CPT associates, forcing them gradually against the outside wall of the compound.
For several minutes she bore the brunt of the settler rage and abuse. But all of them-Amira and the CPTers-were to varying degrees pummeled, spat on, and screamed at. Naturally she was called a traitor and worse. Then one settler woman snatched her note book. Someone else tore her glasses from her face. Furious voices repeatedly warned and ordered her and CPT to get out and stay out of Hebron. In answer, she yelled defiantly to the crowd that she wasn't going to leave until she got her glasses back. That being the case, neither was CPT.
Even though an Army Jeep with its contingent of three soldiers, who were watching the mob passively, was parked across the road no more than twenty five feet away, the way to this presumed sanctuary due to the soldiers' diffidence was blocked by the crowd. After about fifteen minutes a big strapping Israeli Television reporter acquaintance of Amira's appeared. Attracting the mob's attention, he led the way commandingly to the Jeep: the settlers parting reflexively in front him like the Red Sea before Moses.
But as soon as they made it to the Jeep, the Red Sea closed in again. For the next two hours the abuse was no worse then angry epithets, threats, short range spitting, and a bit of pebble throwing. But there was no getting away. Finally Police came and led them to the safety of a big police bus about seventy five yards further down the road and well away from the rally site. But just before that happened a young Army officer appeared and quietly passed a small plastic shopping bag to Amira. Untying it, she found not only her note book but also her glasses-broken in two, but nevertheless safely back in her possession.
Because a still too large group of settlers did not disperse, it was impossible to get back to the family inside the compound. But with the worst apparently over, the family's father via cell phone said that he thought they would be all right for the rest of the night, which was the case. So well after midnight the five headed back to the CPT apartment.
Since then CPTers have been asked to stay-and are staying-almost every night in the homes of families in the shadow of Kiryat Arba, who still fear with good reason settler and military reprisals.