By: Ana Garcia

Before coming to Palestine I had already read quite a lot about the Palestinian question. I was aware of settlements, checkpoints, tanks of water, Israeli taxes… I even knew where to place in the map some of the main cities and towns of the West Bank. However, even though I had borrowed books from the library and I had watched documentaries on the Internet, the occupation has to be seen with your own eyes. It is necessary to experience what Palestinians go through in their everyday life, especially in Hebron, a city that perfectly reflects what apartheid is about.

The first thing I noticed when we arrived in Hebron was a big white and blue flag at the end of the street, far away in the horizon and yet so close. I felt kind of a shiver, I was so uncomfortable… And that was just the start of a mix of intense emotions with each step I made… I felt that same disgust when I saw another of those flags flying freely in the air among the ancient Roman olive trees. Even there, in such a special part of the city, those two colours were actually occupying a historical site. Later on, I found out that the house between trees, that micro-settlement, was protected by either one or a couple of soldiers from Monday to Sunday. And yes, I can prove that, I saw myself a green uniform in the garden where the children -settlers, of course- were playing.

In Shuhada street the internationals had to separate from the locals for a while. For too long… A ten-minute walk for us – probably not even that- versus 3km for them, just because of the ID they have to hold.

We walked down the street, looking at the emptiness of a ghost road… Closed shops, broken windows, walls losing colour… The effects of the passing of time where time does not even exist… A frozen street, without the sound of the horns of invisible Palestinian taxis… With no noise or smells from shops where there is nobody cooking or working since so many years ago…

The Palestinian essence is gone there, I felt so uncomfortable there… Again… It was not a matter of lack of safety -because I know that everything was okay for me there, thanks to my European passport. I just could not handle the real story of that street. I could not stand the bad breath of occupation in the heart of a city forced to change after so many centuries of normal life.

we got to a Palestinian shop situated some meters away from Ibrahim’s mosque. Hearing “Welcome” was such a relief after all the tension and holding up the tears. The owner of the shop had made hot coffee, the one with the taste of spice and way hotter than the coffee I am used to back home. He offered a seat to each of us while we were waiting for the locals –yeah, because of that 3km path they were forced to take.

We were surrounded by kufiyahs, scarfs made in Jerusalem and traditional dresses. And behind that innocent wall of red and black fabric, there were the two soldiers who had let us go into our new safe space, which felt like home to me. The shop, that oasis between settlers.

And there, in the centre of Hebron, in one of the sides of a bridge between enemies which was built by just one of the parties and works according to their rules, I felt more than ever the need to write about these two weeks when I get back home. Because the world needs to know what I have seen, what I have experienced and the way Palestinians suffer in their everyday life. Even if I was just an observer, a lucky one, I feel I have to break the silence a little bit more. The most powerful weapon is writing the truth. And it is the one they fear the most.

It had always been my dream to come to Palestine. And, finally, after so many years, I made it! Now that I am here, in the land of my dreams, I cannot even believe I got the chance to see with my own eyes the fields of olive trees and the kufiyahs hanging on the stands of the markets. I can even smell the Mediterranean from this part of the world. In Jenin… the sea, so close and far at the same time.

Before arriving in Palestine I was looking forward to experiencing every aspect of the occupation to later talk about it back home. However, after these past two weeks, I want to write about all the different shades that make part of the whole Palestinian picture. The West Bank is more than soldiers, checkpoints and settlements. The West Bank is its people, the Palestinians I have met during my stay, full of generosity, kindness and hospitality. People like you and me fighting for their freedom and their rights. Because as Mahmoud Darwish said, Palestinians are full of life (and willing to live in a peaceful land).

I am sad that I have to leave, without even knowing when i will be able to come back (I will do my best to make it to Palestine again). Meanwhile, I know for sure that I will miss the smiles of children in the street, the “welcome’ with Arabic accent in every place we went, the stories I have heard, the black dots of the water tanks in the horizon, the smell of spice in the Old City of Nablus. It is going to be hard to say goodbye to the wonderful people that are part of my short “Palestinian life”. I hope our friendship lasts in time and at some point we can meet in a free Palestine. I felt I was at home all this time. I am going to be homesick. See soon my beloved Palestine!