Tag: Features

  • ‘No other land’: Palestinian Bedouins forced out under cover of Gaza war

    ‘No other land’: Palestinian Bedouins forced out under cover of Gaza war

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    The Palestinian Bedouins of the West Bank do not have time to wait for Israeli Jews to turn against their government’s policy towards them.

    Instead, they rely on their own resilience – or, in Arabic, “sumud”. The term expresses the Palestinian sense of being rooted in their own land, and their historical rights.

    It is a word which has become a guiding principle for Palestinians, leading many Bedouins to stay on their land despite the ongoing harassment.

    Many attempt to return to their villages even after their belongings have been stolen and their homes reduced to ruins, as Abu Bashar and a few men from Wadi as-Seeq did repeatedly. They have tried, time and time again, to return to the remains of their homes, empty animal pens and stolen solar panels, but with no success.

    Ekhlas Kaabneh, 25, is from the Bedouin East Taybeh community in al-Mu’arrajat. Ekhlas’s family illustrates Palestinian resilience: Although a settlement outpost is just a few metres away, the family is determined to stay and continue their Bedouin life, alone, despite the rest of their community being displaced.

    Ekhlas waters the plants in front of her house, made of tin sheets, and smiles at her flowers. “These flowers have bloomed despite the extreme heat this year, she said. They always remind me of steadfastness; this is how we should be.”

    Ekhlas’s community was partially displaced two years ago and completely displaced after October 7. The family lives alone on the slope of a mountainous area bordered to the north and west by olive trees. To the east are vast agricultural lands extending to Jericho, which were inhabited and farmed by Bedouin families until 2017, when they were expelled by settlers, their agricultural lands seized and settlements built in their place.

    “The settlers stole our identity. [They live] as Bedouins, working in herding sheep and cattle, even though they settle the land without a single animal with them… They stole our livestock, which is among the best in the world, we inherited from our ancestors,” Ekhlas says, the smile gone from her face.

    Several Bedouins and Israeli activists said that settlers in new outposts since 2015 deliberately dress in Bedouin-like clothing, build tents and herd livestock. Passersby often cannot recognise them unless they engage in conversation, as they do not speak Arabic.

    Ekhlas and her family have continued to face attacks. Last year, on March 29, during the Islamic holy month of Ramadan, she was beaten as she slept, waking up to pepper spray in her eyes. She could hear only the screams of her two sisters and little brother as their house was damaged by the settlers.

    “After that horrible night, we became afraid… I sleep every day with a stick next to me in case of another attack. I always have nightmares about that night that make me wake up in fear,” Ekhlas said.

    Aside from the settlers, Ekhlas faces the threat of Israel itself. Her family has been issued a demolition order, on the pretext that their home was built on land in Area C without permission – which is notoriously hard to obtain for Palestinians.

    Area C constitutes nearly 60 percent of the West Bank and is the main focus of the illegal settlement enterprise. Area B is under joint Palestinian-Israeli control while Area A is under the governance of the Palestinian Authority (PA). In Area C, where Israel retains complete control including security and zoning since its occupation in 1967, there are at least 325,500 settlers in 125 settlements and more than 100 outposts. An estimated 180,000-300,000 Palestinians live in Area C, including 27,500 Bedouins, according to the United Nations.

    The late Palestinian President Yasser Arafat issued a decree in 2002, establishing the Colonization and Wall Resistance Commission (CWRC) to confront the illegal settlements.

    “Its primary task is to support the Palestinians in Area C through rebuilding their homes and even having employees stationed among them for a period to help resist and document the settlers’ violations,” said Younis Arar, the head of the commission’s international relations unit and the director in Bethlehem.

    Arar himself has been arrested by Israeli authorities multiple times while defending Palestinian homes and suffered an injury to his foot after a settler attacked him with a car.

    “Since October 7, 26 Palestinian communities and villages to the east of the West Bank and Jerusalem, and the south of Hebron, have been entirely displaced and seized, but we are making every effort to stabilise the remaining residents in their place,” said Arar.

    “We can’t do more, the world is unable to send a sip of water to Gaza under a genocide, and we in the West Bank are also alone resisting the occupation. We have no choice but our sumud.”

    It’s a choice Ekhlas knows all too well.

    “If we take a step back, they will take steps forward with their settlement,” she said. “We have no other land.”

    This story was produced with the Internews Earth Journalism Network.

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  • All that’s left is a key: Palestinians fleeing Israel’s bombs dream of home

    All that’s left is a key: Palestinians fleeing Israel’s bombs dream of home

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    Deir el-Balah, Gaza – A year of war, displacement and horror has not made the people of Gaza forget the homes they had to leave behind to save their families from relentless Israeli bombing.

    Al Jazeera spoke to three women who are now living in a refugee camp near Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir el-Balah. They fled with their families, but held on to the one object that unifies all Palestinians deprived of their homes and lands: the keys to their houses.

    No longer the large iron keys that their forebears took with them when they were ethnically cleansed in the Nakba of 1948, these small, modern keys are just as important to a dispossessed people as ever.

    Abeer

    Abeer al-Salibi, 37, lives in the crowded Deir el-Balah displacement camp and still carries the key to her house, though it now lies in ruins.

    She, her husband and their seven children live in a tent, a far cry from the home they built over 17 years of toil.

    She dreams of home, a modest house with a small garden in al-Karama, north of Gaza City.

    “We only lived in it for three years before it was [bombed] last October,” Abeer recalled. “All that’s left of it is this key.”

    Since they were forced from their home, the family has been displaced five times: Nuseirat to Rafah, then Khan Younis, and finally now to Deir el-Balah.

    “Home is life. I miss my life. I miss the simple routine of waking my children for school, welcoming them back,” Abeer said with a soft smile.

    She dreams of returning, even if it means living on the ruins of what was once their home.

    “I’ll set up a tent on the rubble if I have to. We will rebuild. The important thing is to return.”

    Wafaa

    Wafaa Sharaf, 20, had only been married for six months when the war erupted, derailing the dreams she had with her 20-year-old husband, Islam.

    Pregnant with her first child, she was forced in November to flee her home in as-Saftawi, north of Gaza City.

    Islam had lovingly prepared a small apartment on the top floor of his father’s house for the couple to live in.

    “It was no more than 60sq metres (646sq feet), but to me, it was heaven,” Wafaa said.

    “We had been planning the baby’s room, and my mother had prepared clothes for the newborn. We left everything behind when we fled.

    “I didn’t want to leave the house. My soul was still tied to it,” Wafaa said. “But when shells started falling … we had no choice.”

    She gave birth to her daughter Leen in the overcrowded camp in January, during one of Gaza’s coldest winters.

    The couple do not know what happened to their home, relying on second or third-hand accounts of people who had seen it.

    Regardless, Wafaa has just one wish: “To return to my home. I don’t want anything else.”

    Hiba

    Hiba al-Hindawi, a 29-year-old mother of three, says that if she could do it all over again, she would have never left her home.

    “I left out of fear for my children and myself. The bombing was relentless.”

    She wishes she had taken more from the house, precious items like her wedding photos and pictures of her children when they were young.

    “It’s all gone now,” she said quietly.

    Looking back, she recognises the everyday luxuries of having a refrigerator, washing machine, and beds.

    “I just wish I could wash my hands from a tap or use a bathroom like normal. It feels like we’ve been thrown back to the Stone Age.”

    More than anything, she just wants the war to end.

    “I want this Nakba to stop,” she said desperately.

    In the future, she said, she will tell her grandchildren about the horrors of war that she and her children are living through.

    “If we survive, I’ll tell them what we saw,” she said.

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