Village of Ein El Duyuk, Jordan Valley, Occupied West Bank
It has begun. With the decrease in military operations committing genocide in Gaza, the takeover of the West Bank has amplified. Already annexed in all but name, Israel has begun its push for complete ethnic cleansing of this, one of the last small pieces of Palestine left. A civilization, a culture, a way of life now being erased forever. The Jordan valley, a place of such beauty it breaks your heart. It makes up 30% of the occupied West Bank, and is its main water source. Once sustaining a population of 320,000 in 1967, now only 56,000 people remain. Over 10,000 illegal settlers occupy strategic lands in over 39 colonies. Outposts have recently appeared totalling at least 19. Now 85% of the water is under Israeli control. Area C designation controls 95% of the valley, with 65% of the land now deemed closed military firing zones. The strangulation of Palestinian existence almost complete.
A village of 20 Beaudoin families, perched high on the mountains of the desert. People living in harmony with the land the way their ancestors have since time immemorial. The view of Jericho, of Jordan, of the surrounding mountains, a stunning sight. Painted in different colours at different times of day. Flocks of sheep, goats, chickens, donkeys, horses. Gardens of olive trees, fig trees, date palms. Cacti, desert flowers.
A thriving community now under threat. Area A according to the devastating terms of the Oslo Accords. Israeli are not supposed to be able to access this place. Well established settlements loom in the distance, but other than some army incursions they have lived in relative peace. Until two months ago. The community is now reeling with fear.
The first time the occupation reared its ugly head was a gate on the road to restrict access to the village. Half of the road declared area C. A legal battle won, the gate now open. But an outpost has now been established 2 km from the road. Settlers began coming during the day, intimidating, filming, observing the families and their flocks. Then the attacks began, under the cowardly cover of the night. When the residents and their children should be enjoying peaceful sleep, restoring themselves for the coming day.
Solar panels smashed, windows and doors of the houses broken, houses trespassed upon, new buildings destroyed, a bride’s dowry of gold stolen. Two hundred sheep kidnapped from an elderly man. Often with the army working in tandem with the settlers. An army officer stealing a 20 shekel bill from a house. The remaining flocks are now hidden below in caves.
Five families have fled. Fifteen remain steadfast. We four internationals, three Italian, one Canadian, are the first to come to stand in solidarity. To get here, we sat for hours at the infamous Al Hamra checkpoint, grimly given the name “the killing checkpoint” for the number of Palestinians, men and women, who have been slaughtered here in cold blood. Shot multiple times even after they had fallen. The taxi driver who brings us across is putting his own life in danger.
Already we have been embraced by the families. Cooked beautiful meals, presented with an endless flow of sweet tea and coffee. Brought gifts of food, Nablisi soap, magnets depicting the ancient city of Jericho, the oldest in the world. Even Jericho, once a place of safety, is now coming under attack by the IOF.
As we sit looking out on the great beauty of this land, Apache helicopters and war planes constantly destroy the peace, on their way to bloody murder and destruction in Gaza, in Lebanon, in Syria.
An elderly woman, dazed with fear wandering on the mountainside, barefoot in the hot sun. She collapses with exhaustion. We try to help her, to bring her water, to return her to her home. But such is her level of terror, she fears to be seen with us by the occupation, foreseeing further attacks in retribution. Today I found her drinking tea with the other woman. I approached her and she greeted me with a smile perfused with joy, embraced me, kissed me, called me Habibti.
A man already partially paralyzed by a stoke flees to the city , forced into a mental health crisis by fear.
Residents exhausted from months of sleep deprivation, standing guard over their community at night.
Children learning self sufficiency so very young. Their experiences of fear, worry, anxiety shaping their young minds, pushing them towards adulthood far too quickly.
In near by Tubas, where my other comrades are stationed, a military siege has begun. The IOF has sent 1,450 terrorists, many probably with the blood of Gazans on their hands, to attack the innocent Palestinians residents. Guilty only of the great sin of breathing, of existing, of daring to use their lawful right to resist their extermination. The checkpoints closed, earthen mounds built up by the army, trapping the residents inside. Helicopters shoot randomly into houses, into the streets. The IOF takes over several residential buildings to establish military headquarters. The air is thick with the sight and sound of drones, explosions punctuating the air. Mass arrests. A curfew. People cannot leave their homes. The shops are closed.
In Duyuk, we watch the glorious sunset while breaking bread with a family, puppies playing at our feet. Return to the top of the hill to our new home to begin night watch.The beauty and peace broken by furtive lights of the settles coming down the mountain. Gun shots and explosions, the screams of children heard in the valley far below. We sit, helpless, not knowing the terror being unleashed mere kilometres from us.
But still there is joy. Playing with the children, embracing the women. A game of Uno. Eating fresh hot bread cooked over the fire. Tea, coffee, love, connection and understanding across cultures, gratitude on both sides. The people of the village are sleeping through the night now, we are told, knowing we are here to keep watch. The children standing tall again, shouting, playing. Sumud is in the air. The residents will not bow down to the terror. They will not leave the land of their ancestors. And we will stand with them, strong, tall, full of immense gratitude and pride for our Palestinian comrades. May the occupation fall under the power of Sumud. Free Palestine. From the River to the Sea.
