Spring Team 05 Report: "Uncertain Future"

Spring Team 05 Report: "Uncertain Future"

April 18, 2005 by Kim (Detroit teacher, mother of four)

I am sitting on an ancient boulder watching shepherds tend their sheep and goats while keeping an eye out for the musteltahneen, or settlers, who make it a practice to regularly harass, threaten, and terrorize the people of Qawawis, a tiny cave community in the South Hebron Hills where I have been staying for the past few days.

This is the place where a couple of internationals were recently beaten by masked settlers and where an elderly shepherd and his sheep were held to the ground with knives to their throats by settlers who released the man only after slitting the throat of one of his sheep. This is the place where just last Saturday, the people of Qawawis along with MPT's J and H and their friend K were greeted by machine-toting settlers out for a shabbat stroll on the land these settlers believe is theirs. This is the spot that is home to the most extreme, ideological settlers in the West Bank. This is a place I have grown to love.

Qawawis is located south of Hebron in an area of rolling brown hills, green valleys, and rocky terrain dotted with patches of olive trees. This small area is ringed by the Susya settlement right up the road and two outpost settlements that tower over the village from nearby hills. A large area behind one of the outposts and the Susya settlement is designated as an IDF military training site. There is no electricity or running water in Qawawis, but the fresh water drawn from wells outside the caves and the conversation and meals shared around a kerosene lantern and candles more than compensate for the lack of modern amenities.

The people of this small community are physically and spiritually beautiful. From the 75-year-old haj dressed in her traditional embroidrered dress to the younger women with their dangling, gold earrings and colorful hijabs, the people of Qawawis are striking and hospitable beyond belief to us internationals who have been staying here.

The people who make up the Qawawis community originally lived in the area south of the caves that is currently being used as a bombing range for the Israeli Army. In 1967, three or four of the families displaced by the military's appropriation of their land migrated to the empty caves that today make up Qawawis; by the mid-80's this basin community expanded to approximately 500 people.

Although the shepherds of Qawawis were hassled by settlers in the surrounding area during this time, the situation escalated dramatically in 1999 when two outposts consisting of mobile caravans, floodlights, and barbed wire were set up on the two hilltops closest to Qawawis. Established by rabid and highly armed fundamentalists, the outpost settlements became centers of terror for the people of this small community. In addition to being subjected to verbal and sometimes physical intimidation, shepherds and their flocks were now being shot at by fanatical settlers who believe that they have a divine mandate to kill, if necessary, in order to seize land that they believe is theirs.

By 2001, settlers were sniping farmers at the caves' entrances and the families of Qawawis were sometimes trapped inside the caves for days on end. The situation was so grim that within a year the population, which had already decreased to 80, was reduced to 20 as families sought refuge from settler terror in nearby Karmel. In 2002, the Israeli Army evacuated Qawawis, telling the Palestinians who had the courage to remain that it was doing so for its own good. After the evacuation, the Army bulldozed the community and filled in many of the cave dwellings. Soon after the people of Qawawis were forced out by the Army, settlers moved into the area where they ironically adopted the same lifestyle of simplicity and sustenance farming practiced by their predecessors.

By the end of 2003, the Israeli Army decided that it wanted the land for itself in order to expand its training ground and it, in turn, drove the settlers off the land.

Events took an unusual twist in early 2004 when the Israeli human rights organization, B'Tselem, secured through one of its lawyers an order from the Knesset stating that the Palestinian inhabitants have the right to return to Qawawis. The Knesset order names the four patriarchs of the Palestinian community and does not specify a limit on how many community members may return.

Since the order was handed down in early spring, former inhabitants who had moved to Karmel to escape settler violence have been slowly trickling back and rebuilding the cave community. The construction of stone walls, animal pens, and the underground oven where the bread is baked in such a short period of time is a testament to the determination and community spirit found here.

Despite their legal right to be here, however, the situation is far from secure at this point. On March 4, the people of Qawawis went to the nearby village of Tuwani where the Christian Peacemaker Team has provided an ongoing presence in the face of similar acts of terror instigated by ideological settlers (this was the site of the recent sheep poisoning that received international attention) to ask for similar support. Since that time, ISM has provided a continuous presence here in Qawawis.

In an ironic twist on the history of this village, the Israeli Army has declared Qawawis a closed military zone to everyone EXCEPT the people of the village. Many soldiers, however, are not aware of this designation and the settlers do not seem deterred by a military order to stay off this property. On the day that internationals began their solidarity work in Qawawis, for example, the lone house in the village - a simple, cement structure - was occupied by 20 settlers who greeted the activists with religious songs. Since that time, there have been several other incidents involving settlers. As it stands currently, the United Nations has asked the people of Qawawis and internationals to keep a log book documenting settler harassment and violence. Each week, this report is typed up and sent to B'Tselem. The situation is tense and tenable at best given the extremism of settlers who driven by a belief system that does not allow for any semblence of dialogue or mutuality.

As I gaze at the ugly outposts with their garish lights strung across this pastoral areas, I feel a sense of despair. I know that sheep were poisoned in the village down the road and I wonder how long it will be until something like that happens here. I ponder the fresh, clear water drawn from the wells with a plastic, orange bucket and wonder what would happen if the settlers tainted the water consumed by the people here. After prayer, Halil and Haj sleep outside on a large slab of stone and I wonder whether the settlers on the hillsides above would do them harm. I think of dark, cozy caves where children sleep and families eat and realize that they have no doors. To live here is surely to be vulnerable. Yet to live here is, in many ways, such a celebration.

There is an order - a holy routine - to the days here that speaks of lost values in a world driven by consumerism and greed. Here we eat slowly and we eat well, guests of the various families in the community. Always it is the same. We sit on mats and are served first while the family waits for us to finish before they begin their meal. Initially, it was very difficult to eat in front of the children especially, but I have learned to simply accept this hospitality with a "zeke" and "shukran." Then it is tea - lots of sweet, hot tea and fragments of conversation. The youngest of children are adept at pouring tea and follow the example set by their elders.

We internationals go out with the shepherds with cameras and cell phones in cas there is a problem with settlers. The sheep and goats graze and with a few simple commands the flocks respond to the shepherds. When the animals have had their fill, it is back to the home for lunch and a nap. Later, the animals are taken out again until dark when it is time for dinner, tea, and early bed. Throughout the day the women work but also take time to rest and laugh. During my time here, I have helped sweep goat and sheep droppings with a homemade whisk broom deep inside the cave where the animals sleep and I have helped remove bread from the underground oven fueled, I think, by droppings placed beneath a layer of hot stones. The children are loved, loved, and loved some more by their parents and extended families and there is a natural flow to family life, including a lot of humor, that I have not seen in the West. As difficult as it was to my Western sensibilities, I even agreed to allow the women of the village to wash my hair and bathe me yesterday in a rather elaborate ritual that taught me a lesson in trust, humility, and gratitude. Theirs is a hard life, but a good life. I feel at home here.

On Monday, two men from the United Nations came by and made arrangements for a mobile medical clinic to visit the village on Wednesday. A doctor and femalenurse will give health examinations first to the women and children and then the men. The people of Qawawis seem to be looking forward to this visit. Several explained to the UN that they have health problems that need addressing and this is an initial effort to connect the people of the community with a new health center in Tuwani. Also, a veterinarian came by today to treat the animals for TB, another good sign that this small community is not forgotten.

And yet . . . ringed in as they are by settlers I wonder what the future holds for the people of Qawawis. As I said earlier, the settlers in this area are not seeking land for the sake of simply owning valuable real estate. These settlers are the true believers who do not want nor seek peace with their neighbors. They feel they are on a divine mission to purge the land of "Arabs" by any means necessary. One of the internationals told me this morning that in trying to engage one of them in a discussion, a settler casually said, "We will probably have to kill all these Arabs." Clearly, some of the younger children of the village are terrified of the settlers. Little Noor, who can't be more than two, stiffens and screams at the sight of us internationals with our light skin, Western-style dress, and sunglasses. These children have been terrorized and one can only wonder about the long-term effects that this type of emotional trauma might exact.

I also wonder what the village's proximity to the Army training area portends. It is a very strange juxtaposition to hear loud bomb blasts in this rural place and the sound of Apache helicopters flying over unlit caves at night. My cynicism leads me to hypothesize that perhaps the Israeli government will remove the outpost settlements as a show of goodwill and then extend its military operations to include Qawawis. In an even more chilling scenario, I fear that settlers from Gaza will find their way to this area, a prospect I do not even want to think about.

For now, however, I feel privileged to stay with the people of Qawawis whose future seems as uncertain as next year's crop. I have learned so much from these people who live so close to the land and to one another. There may not be electricity here, but there is a great deal of light.