But the international groups that have surfaced in and around At-Tuwani have gradually changed the tenor of the situation there. Organizations such as CPT, Operation Dove, Amnesty International, B’Tselem, and Ta’ayush accompany shepherds, walk children to school, and monitor Israeli checkpoints. Activists wield video cameras and place themselves in risky situations to witness any crimes or violations of human rights. Hafez jokes, “Since CPT came, the settlers now attack wearing masks so when they are videotaped or photographed, nobody will know who they are.”

“Believe it or not, [At-Tuwani] is generally less violent than many other villages because of the international presence,” Ezra Nawi says. A member of Ta’ayush, a grassroots movement of Arabs and Jews working to break down the walls of racism and segregation, Iraqi-born Ezra is a devoted advocate for Palestinians in the rural villages. A handyman by trade, he’s a serious person but speaks gently. “The settlers believe they are entitled to this land,” he explains, “and human rights organizations are only delaying the military from taking over Palestinian land, not preventing it. We’ve developed good relationships with the people here...it is different to hear a story than to see a story. I have brought hundreds of people here, even my mother. When you know a person, you feel a different responsibility.”

Legacy of Hate

It’s a brief adventurous drive from At-Tuwani to Susiya on what Palestinians consider dangerous settler roads. If At-Tuwani seems remote, then Susiya, a Palestinian enclave within view of a Jewish settlement of the same name, is somewhat like being on the moon. Here, neighbors are few; there are no roads, no school, no clinic, and no store to buy even basic necessities. Susiya is tethered loosely together by its name, the land, and the plight of its residents.

Haja Sara pours tea with her square, rough hands and serves mutabak, a savory bread coated with sugar and olive oil baked for special occasions. She is 65 years old, fiercely independent, and has three daughters and three sons. The hard dirt floor of her tidy tent is covered in threadbare carpets and inhabited by a playful kitten who wants to share the bread. Inventorying her belongings takes mere seconds: baskets, potatoes, a few foam mattresses, a clock, a gas lantern, a teapot.

“My husband was sick with lung problems,” Haja discloses soberly. “We were discussing what to do tomorrow...it was like a normal night, then my husband suddenly says, ‘I am going to die.’ He told me about all the money he owed people and things I needed to take care of if he died...then I really started to worry...it’s very difficult for the ambulance to come here...” she trails off. Haja explains they must ride their donkeys about two kilometers to meet an ambulance.

“I wanted to call my eldest son so we could get a car and go to the hospital,” she continues, “but my husband told me not to call. He grabbed the [tent] pole, took three breaths, and died.” She points to the pole; hanging from it are her husband’s belt, cane, and prayer beads—a humble tribute to a companion’s life.

Haja says soldiers arrested her son soon after his father’s death. “They took his identification papers and beat him because he had a beard; they think all Arabs with beards are terrorists. After his father died, it is a tradition—he grows this beard,” she says and pushes the kitten aside. “We had to pay 3,500 shekels [about $775 U.S. dollars] to release him from jail. They also made him shave his beard.”

She laughs when asked why they did this to her son. “They hate us. It goes back...for a long time. They do not want to see Arabs here...they want to confiscate the land...these settlers are a different kind of people, not normal. We do not trust them...I do not feel that way about other kinds of people, other Jews...but the settlers are bad people...violent people...who attack us. I hate them,” she says.

Abruptly, Haja angrily waves her hands toward the settlement of Susiya. “People of this village used to live in the ancient city of Susiya. In 1985 settlers kicked us out so we moved to the caves here. After a few years settlers came back and put our belongings in trucks and took them to the dump. They attacked us and destroyed everything here. Later they closed the caves...put big stones in front of them and broke our grain bins. We opened the caves back up eventually. After about one year the Israeli military came with demolition orders for the caves and destroyed them,” she says.

“I hope something changes with the settlers, but change takes time,” Haja says. “We hope that they leave and we stay in our land here. I will keep living here until I die, like my husband.”

         Hear Haja Sara speaking about the settlers

Places of Special Interest

Throughout the West Bank, the ubiquitous red-tile rooftops of Israeli settlements occupying the land are striking in their uniformity. They’re assembled densely, surrounded by security fences and other barriers in ironic contradiction to the Palestinian villages they surround. In these settlements built inside the Green Line, including Ma’on, there are paved roads, sewage systems, busy local establishments, landscaped public areas, bus stops, the lingering smell of fresh-cut grass—all tangible signs of permanence.

Along with a growing network of Israeli highways linking settlement enclaves, a web of checkpoints and shifting roadblocks on Palestinian roads, and the continued construction of Israel’s controversial security fence hemming in Palestinian villages, one hard-to-deny fact on the ground is the increasingly frail look of At-Tuwani and other small villages spiraling toward extinction. Many have compared this dissection of the West Bank with the Bantustans created during South Africa’s policy of apartheid.

It’s no secret that Israel encourages and subsidizes the expansion of West Bank settlements in order to increase land ownership for the state of Israel. According to B’Tselem, an Israeli human rights organization, Israel has established 135 settlements inside the Green Line since 1967. This figure does not include the illegal outposts.

The spotlight aimed at Israel’s decision to evacuate approximately 8,000 settlers from Gaza in the summer of 2005 failed to illuminate the impact of hundreds of thousands of settlers living in the West Bank. The Israeli Cabinet Resolution Regarding the Disengagement Plan stated:

“In any future permanent status arrangement, there will be no Israeli towns and villages in the Gaza Strip. On the other hand, it is clear that in the West Bank, there are areas which will be part of the state of Israel, including major Israeli population centers, cities, towns and villages, security areas, and other places of special interest to Israel.” ¹