Five years after the outbreak of the intifada, Bethlehem residents do not share the holiday joy of their few visitors
By Rafael D. Frankel
BETHLEHEM—Even the Arabic rendition of Jingle Bells being blasted from loud speakers throughout Manjor Square failed to shake the generally gloomy mood in this Christian holy city on a damp Christmas Eve.
Though a scout and marching band parade, along with bustling streets, brought to mind Christmases past here before the rain set in in the early afternoon, most of the assembled crowds were locals and the absence of large tourist and pilgrim groups weighed heavily on the residents of Bethlehem whose town has been hit with an economic depression over the last five years.
“We heard there were 18,000 tourists coming, but we don’t see anyone” said Twafiq Handal, 43, who owns a toy and knick-knack store just off of Manjor Square.
Before the second intifada, around one million tourists and pilgrims came to Bethlehem every year, said Majed Ishaq, who directs the marketing of Bethlehem for the Palestinian Authority. But following the take-over of the Church of the Nativity by Palestinian fighters in April 2002, that number dropped to a low of 8,000.
Though Ishaq said Bethlehem would register around 300,000 visitors this year, with 30,000 coming during the Christmas season, those estimates seemed lost on the merchants and tour guides here.
Inside Handal’s Store, amongst helium balloons of Santa Clause floating at the ceiling, locals finished their Christmas shopping, mostly purchasing small-ticket items such as dolls, stuffed animals, and purses. With Handal’s 12-year-old son, Anton, dressing up as Santa Clause and greeting visitors as the door, the hope was that foreigners who once spent American and European currency freely here would return to the store after a five-year absence. It was to no avail.
“All the people in here are from Bethlehem,” Handal said, stuffing the payment for a miniature pool table into his coat pocket—his store does not have cash register. “Even the Palestinians from Jerusalem and Ramallah aren’t coming.
“Christmas is not special for me this year. Before there was trouble with bombs and shootings but we had work. Now there is no trouble but no one has work,” he said.
That sentiment was echoed by tour guide Adnam Ayesh, 44, who said that most people in Bethlehem are still struggling from a lack of employment. “Almost every day we go up to the market and sit and smoke,” he said. “The people of Bethlehem depend on tourism and we are really suffering.”
Inside his private meeting room, with the lights of a one-meter-tall Christmas tree flickering on and off behind him, Bethlehem Mayor Dr. Victor Bataresh sought to put a brave face on the situation, saying his city was “better, quieter, and safer” than in years past.
However even he sounded bleak when asked about what the future holds for Bethlehem. “I always have to be optimistic,” Bataresh said, sighing and shaking his hands with his palms up. “But it’s hard to be optimistic with the checkpoints and the fence cutting us off.”
Indeed, the wall which now separates Bethlehem from Jerusalem weighed heavy on all the residents interviewed here by The Jerusalem Post.
“Compared to [pre-intifada] years, there are not that many people,” said one resident who works for the United Nations and asked not to be named. “The city is closed and people are afraid to come. I think the future is even more black than this.”
Inside a not-quite-empty but far-from-full Church of the Nativity, where Christians believe Jesus Christ was born, a few dozen foreigners who braved their fears and the cold rain took pictures and said prayers. In years past, one-hour long lines would have preceded entrance to the Church’s 1,500-year-old stone halls, held up by the original Roman columns. In 2005, the only delay in entering was a local man selling one shekel cups of coffee at the door.
For those tourists that came, they said the separation wall and the checkpoint did not deter them from visiting Bethlehem. But they added that general fears over the security situation here and, to a lesser extent, the process of going through a checkpoint influenced others they knew who decided against making the trip.
“Unfortunately, security measures scare people a bit to come here, but on the other hand the bombs and terror attacks scare them as well,” said Carlos Bertens, a Chilean diplomat. “Our friends in Tel Aviv decided not to come because they heard rumors that there could be some attack today.”
Carin Berg, a Swede who is studying Arabic at Hebrew University, said the same rumors convinced her roommates not to come. Saying she was “not afraid of the checkpoint,” Berg ventured to Bethlehem because she does not have family here with her. “Bethlehem seemed like the place to go since I still wanted to celebrate Christmas.”
In contrast with the locals, the spiritual significance of being in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve, and not the surrounding political and economic situation, was what tourists spoke of.
“It’s very special for us to be able to be here, in the most important place in the world on this day,” said Bertens, who is Catholic.
For German Miriam Butt, 23, who described herself as “not particularly religious,” there was still a special feeling about being here. “I feel the presence of God,” she said, after watching a procession of monks, priests, and ministers make their way through the church singing Christmas hymns.
At midnight, the main Christmas Mass in the church—beamed out to the world via television—was expected to draw more than 1,500 people, including PA Chairman Mahmoud Abbas.
“Our message this year is not to be afraid and to have love in our hearts for all people,” said Father Amjad Sabbara, who will assist the Jerusalem patriarch in leading the service. “The last five years have brought desperation, but all together we can make a better future.”
©2005 Rafael D. Frankel and The Jerusalem Post
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