Schools that we visited were the ”problematic ones” in critical zones where the Israeli army has control. That morning I went to a school on a border between the Palestinian and Israeli neighborhoods, which is why the streets around it were full of soldiers. Kids and teachers show their teeth from time to time, soldiers get even more pissed off, and the vicious circle never stops.
The sound of morning adhan, a call for prayer from the local mosque, blended so graciously with the first rays of the sun that illuminated the room through the dark curtain cracks and a window cage. It was only 5 am and my Palestinian family was already awake, preparing to leave the house. The scent of cigarette and cardamom coffee from the kitchen gently overwhelmed the room. ''Yalla, Lidija, we go?''
Hebron (Arabic: al-Khalil), a Palestinian city on the West Bank south. City of concrete, rocks and poor land. Palestinians from other cities think of it as gloomy and are often surprised to hear a foreigner went there. ''Why would anyone do that?''. Its residents (Khalilis) are of few words and even the sweetest ones are wrapped up in a rough peasant accent. You won't find it in cities like Bethlehem or Jerusalem. Khalili mentality is the same, difficult, at least at first sight.