“Do you know I have an Israeli ID?” the jeweler inside Damascus Gate asks, while he folds up his prayer rug and begins brewing sage tea.
“No. How’d you manage that?” I ask.
“I’m from Hebron,” he says and the room is quiet and he looks at me with hooded eyes. “Muslims from Hebron don’t have Israeli ID cards.”
I watch him put sugar in his tea and stir.
“My father is from Hebron and his father is from Hebron and his father is from Hebron,” he continues and rubs his eyes. “Do you know what happened in Hebron in 1929?”
“Yes, there was a massacre, and many Jews were murdered,” I reply.
“It was a genocide,” he corrects me.
I would call it a pogrom — a hideous massacre that left nearly 70 people murdered, including women and children — some younger than 5-years-old. But the Palestinian jeweler in the Old City calls it a genocide, and I wait for him to continue.
“My grandfather, and his father saved 24 families during the genocide,” the jeweler tells me. “And afterwards, the Israelis offered us land — and we said, ‘No, we have land, we have our olive trees,’ and then they offered us money and we said, ‘No, we have money, and it is enough,’ so they gave us ID cards and travel documents to thank us, instead.”
“Wow.”
He takes out his blue ID card, same as mine.
“There were many in Hebron who did this — many families saved Jews, and there are also many in Hebron who hate what we did and they call us collaborators. **** you, I tell them. We saved children. We saved families. These were our friends and our neighbors. We had meals together!”
(full article online)
Why the Palestinian jeweler from Hebron has an Israeli ID card