Farmers Living Under Occupation

Bedouin children in the West Bank of occupied Palestine.

Photo: Josh Jones

The children of this valley are put at constant risk by the live-fire exercises that the Israeli military conduct in the area. Their mother, pictured below, told us how soldiers would set off explosives of all sorts, from gas bombs to sound grenades, on the hills surrounding their farm. The ground is then left dangerous, as many explosives remain undetonated.

Mother of the children.

Photo: Josh Jones

The kindness and hospitality of this family, who live in the Tubas region, was something we had grown accustomed to during our stay in Palestine. As part of the Brighton Tubas Solidarity Group, our small delegation made a short and intensive visit around the Jordan Valley region of the West Bank. This article focuses on the lives of some of the farmers, Bedouin and otherwise, we met during this brief period.

Bedouin family near Tubas.

Photo: Josh Jones

This farming family lives among a small collection of tents, also near the town of Tubas. Like other Bedouin, they are denied access to any of the local springs and are forced to travel far to buy water. Their greatest hardship, however, is without doubt the presence of an Israeli military base about one mile from their homes. In recent years, the military have built huge trenches across the plains that the Bedouin people farm, and have used the area for rifle and tank exercises. I spoke to a woman in the next farm along who was shot in the head while picking crops in the field. She had survived with fifteen stitches.

Children of the family.

Photo: Josh Jones

I asked the grandmother of this family if they had had difficulties with the military. ‘They come in the night,’ she said, ‘and shout at us to leave the tents.’ I was dumbfounded. Why? ‘They say they want the place “clean”.

‘In the middle of the night, they come in Hummers and surround the tents, shouting for us to come out. We have to wake up the children, and of course they are all crying. Then we wait outside at gunpoint, sometimes for half an hour, while they go through our homes.’

Our conversation continued. I told her I had spoken to the woman in the next farm who had been shot in the head. Had her family also been hit? ‘The bullets fly over our heads’, she said, ‘but so far, God has been kind.’

The farmers have lived here for generations, but if any of the land is left ’untended’ for more than two years, it becomes Israeli property under Israeli law. It is hard to see how these families manage to survive the harsh conditions they are put under, but so far they have maintained the land despite the live fire exercises and the enormous trenches.

Father and sons in the Jordan Valley.

Photo: Josh Jones

A man of the village of Frush Beit Dajan stands before the mud brick structure that he and his family were forced to live in after their home was demolished. Having destroyed their home, the Israeli civil service has prohibited the family from making any repairs to the dilapidated farm buildings they now have to inhabit.

Frush Beit Dajan is a small and picturesque farming village nestled in a wide depression near the Jordan Valley. We arrived early and talked with farmers until late in the evening, by which time we had drunk more tea and coffee than I had thought possible.

The father of this family told us how one of his sons, aged five, was recently bitten by a poisonous snake while he slept. The snake had entered through one of the many holes in the ruinous building. The father attempted to drive his son to the nearest emergency hospital, but was blocked at an Israeli military checkpoint and forced to return home. His son died later that night.

I cannot imagine how someone can retain their kindness and humanity after such an incident. As we sat over sweet mint tea, the father told me he did not want retribution. ‘All I want’, he said, ‘are my rights as a human being.’

Life still holds on among the ruins of the village.

Photo: Josh Jones