As we walk through the Old City, kids walking past us ask for their photos to be taken (left). It reminds me of the slides I took when I first came here in 1989, one of which included a girl in Dheisheh refugee camp outside Bethlehem. I have been looking for them for a year now, to add them to the intended "first impressions" Occupation Diary of this website [Note: this idea became "Intifada Diary"]. So far, they remain missing in action.
These kids always sum up the innocence lost in the conflict and, on occasion, the wisdom and depth of an untutored observer. If I can remember, I will bring copies of the photos for them, next time I come. We climb one of the hillsides, out of the valley, to get a view of the city and - after a unsuccessful visit to Adli's family's house to see if he is around - bump into Adli's brother Ghareeb. He is getting married on Sunday, and invites us to see the newly decorated house and wait for Adli. I tell him about the strange customs of Western stag parties and he smiles back at me as if I am completely mad. We are surrounded by kids, of course.
Adli turns up, with Ramzi and Majdi, his two brothers who have been living and studying in Seattle for the past four years. Ramzi, 26, is studying criminology. Majdi, 29, organic farming. Adli laughs about this and everyone is happy they are all together. "I can't believe how many kids there are," says Majdi, "I had a headache after the first hour. So much noise!"
Adam (left of photo), Samira, Adli and I sit with Ramzi (right of photo) and Majdi and chew the breeze. The two brothers are visiting for the first time since they left, and are experiencing a particularly intense culture - or is it situation - shock. "We couldn't believe it is so bad here," say Ramzi, "I can't work out how people can live in these conditions." Hebron is stressful by any measurement, but Ramzi hits upon small examples of the constant striving and struggling here. "Everything is a fight here. I wanted to wind the car window up and it didn't work!" he laughs, "I went with Adli to a shop while he bought some vegetables and he started arguing with the man selling them!"
"It's called bartering," cuts in Adli, (right) "bar-ter-ing!" He spells this out in that voice people reserve for their poorer cousins, in this case his younger brother. Ramzi wasn't being that serious about it so I say, with a straight face, "You know Adli, in America all the things in shops have prices on them so you don't need to do that." Adli has, of course, travelled to the States and most of Europe, and just groans and rolls his eyes in disbelief. We've played this game before.
Hebronites, or Khalili's, being the butt of jokes in Palestine in a way similar to the Irish in UK, the Newfoundlanders in Canada and the Poles in the US, have developed a very funny, self-depreciating banter. "You Khalili!" one will scream with delight at an opportunity to prove the stereotype right in another Khalili.
A standard Hebronite joke goes like this:
A Ramalawi (someone from Ramallah), a Gazan and a Khalili are working on a building site. They break for lunch on the 10th floor of the building. The Ramalawi opens his sandwich: "Aaaagh! Felafel! If my wife makes me a felafel sandwich one more time I will jump off this building!" The Gazan opens his sandwich: "Aaaagh! Foule! If my wife makes me a foule sandwich one more time I too will jump off this building!" The Khalili opens his sandwich: "Aaaagh! Hummous! If my sandwich has hummous in it tomorrow I will join you both and jump off this building!"
The next day, the three break again for lunch. The Ramalawi opens his sandwich, finds felafel, shouts, "Allahu Akbar!" and leaps to his death. The Gazan opens his sandwich, finds foule, shouts, "Allahu Akbar!" and also leaps to his death. The Khalili opens his sandwich, finds hummous, shouts, "Allahu Akbar!" and leaps to his death.
At the funeral, the three wives meet each other. The wife of the Ramalawi, crying, says, "If he had only told me he didn't like felafel, I would have prepared something different!" The wife of the Gazan, crying, says, "If he had only told me he didn't like foule, I would have prepared something different!" The wife of the Khalili, crying, says, "I don't understand. He always used to prepare his own lunch!"
Ramzi's conclusion about life in the US? "Everything is so easy. Anything you want is there. After a while it just gets boring." He is thinking about moving back to live here again after his studies finish. "I really missed Hebron over there," he says. After promising to meet up in Ramallah next week for a drink, we bid almost-married Ghareeb goodbye and go with Adli and Ramzi on a short tour of Hebron.