This is the question I ask myself as we are
sitting in an improvised tent in the Bedouin village of Fasyail al-Wusta. The
tent, if it can be called that, is equipped with a fan, but it does not succeed
in fending off the extreme heat midday in the Jordan valley. It may not look
like much to me, but this shelter is the home of two brothers and their
families, and in total house 20 people. What will they do if they lose the
shelter this provides?
In the last year, since June 2011, Abu Nahar
and his brother Hussein Yassin have had their home demolished four times. Last
week on the 24th of May, the animal shelter housing 170 sheep and
goats, was demolished. The deadline allowed to appeal to the court expires on the 13th of June, when
the family expects the house to be demolished again. Abu Nahar says “we do not
know if they will wait until then. It is no problem for the soldiers with the
decision, they can come anytime.”
His has no hope in the lawyer representing
their case in court, saying “he did not make any difference for us.”
“Really we are here in the middle, between two
Palestinian villages, not close to any fields or to any settlements. With what
do they want our land?” he says pointing out towards the slope of the mountains
going down to the Jordan valley. Looking out in the direction there is no
habitation, no water and no houses –just rock and sand.
The 60 Bedouin families are living between the
two parts of the village of Fasayil. The upper part of the village, called
Fasyil al-Fauqa is in Area C and the lower part, Fasayil al-Wusta in Area C.
The area in question, has recently been claimed to be an archeological site,
needed to be preserved for cultural purposes. Regardless of the existence of
these archeological treasures, it is nonetheless against international
humanitarian law to displaced the local population. Article 53 of
the fourth Geneva Convention, states that: “Any destruction by the Occupying Power of real or personal property
belonging individually or collectively to private persons, or to the State, or
to other public authorities, or to social or cooperative organizations, is
prohibited, except where such destruction is rendered absolutely necessary by
military operations.”
UNOCHA recently released their annual report,
which for 2012 is called Fragmented lives. One of the main issues raised is
the increasing displacement of Palestinian Bedouins. During 2011 a total of 622
structures were demolished and 1094 people lost their homes. The family we are
visiting is included in that number, but their personal account makes the
problem much more real.
“Every time they come to execute a demolition
they wait until after the children have gone to school.”
This I at first consider a sign of humanity,
willingly sparing the children the trauma of seeing their house taken over by
soldiers and then demolished to the ground. Yet Nahar seems to disagree: “At
least if they could do it before the school starts, it would be good. Because
now when our children come back from school, they don’t find our tent, and
don’t know where to go.”
The older children, above the age of 16, work
in the Israeli greenhouses next to the village. Despite all of their negative
experiences with the Israeli military, they remain determined to distinguish
between their employers and the soldiers. “Yes they are like farmers and good
–not like the soldiers.” Their father however points out: “we are working for
them, and they are destroying our homes.”
Tomer, the settlement growing grapes close to
Fasyil, is using a lot of the land and water. It is a very visible difference
between the Palestinian farms that are very dry, and the Israeli settlement
farms that are flourishing and green. Meanwhile the Palestinian Bedouins are
suffering from a lack of water, living under very dire conditions and under the
threat of losing their livelihood and homes.
How many times can you lose your home before
you lose hope? When do you stop seeing the good in your adversary, who is
benefiting from your suffering?
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