Bedouin Tour

Last Saturday, I joined a local tour guide named Hijazih for a guided exploration of the Jerusalem desert, followed by dinner with a Bedouin family in their tent.  (See Hijazih’s web page for more information.  http://hijazih.wordpress.com/).  I am so glad I did; this “Lovely Evening with Bedouins” was one of the highlights of my trip so far. 

Our group was small—just two other women (one from Germany, one from Switzerland) and me, in addition to Hijazih.  I am not a big fan of the large group tour, where the tourist sheep are herded from one historical site to another and forced to bleat on cue, so I was happy about the size.  Hijazih picked us up in Bethlehem and drove us east to the desert region.  Israel and the West call this the Judean Desert, but Palestinians call it the Jerusalem desert.  Politics! 

I was surprised to learn how varied the geography of Israel and the West Bank is, despite the small size.  (From Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean Sea to the Dead Sea is only about a 60 mile drive.)  The clilmate from west to east ranges from Mediterranean to steppe to desert, and the changes occur abruptly.  There is a tunnel on the eastern side of Jerusalem, and one of my tour guides said that on the other side of the tunnel, the climate will be completely different.  He was right! The further east we drove, the drier and more mountainous the area became.

After driving for about a half an hour or so, we stopped to take pictures of a breath-taking বিএব. ঠেসে lumbering rocky mountains, crisscrossed with horizontal striations, declined steeply to a grassy wadi below.   It was springtime after a particularly rainy season, so the landscape was dotted with abundant tufts of greenery. 

These mountains are noted for their anticline structure.  (OK, so I learned that word on Wikipedia.) 

What, you ask, is an anticline structure?   Well, according to my friend Wikipedia,

 “In structural geology, an anticline is a fold that is convex up and has its oldest beds at its core. The term is not to be confused with antiform, which is a purely descriptive term for any fold that is convex up. Therefore if age relationships between various strata are unknown, the term antiform must be used.  On a geologic map, anticlines are usually recognized by a sequence of rock layers that are progressively older toward the center of the fold because the uplifted core of the fold is preferentially eroded to a deeper stratigraphic level relative to the topographically lower flanks. The strata dip away from the center, or crest, of the fold.”

If you happen to win money on a game show because I taught you this word, I do expect to receive a percentage of the winnings.

(Dear reader, here I feel the need to share with you my own personal drama.  At this point in the trip, I realized that my camera batteries were dying and we had already passed all of the towns where I could have bought batteries.  Kick self hard!  Because of my dying battery,  I was measly with my picture taking for the rest of the evening.  The batteries eventually died completely when we arrived at to the Bedhouin camp for dinner.  Kick self hard again!)

After our photo op stop, we got back in the car and continued driving east.  The landscape changed again.  Now the greenery was almost completely gone and the landscape was dominated by great expanses of nude limestone rock of the desert.    I have to admit that I have never been a huge fan of the desert and this initial entry into it was a little shocking to my green Midwestern sensibilities.   So when we first pulled up at one of the encampments of the Bedouin family who was to host us that evening, my initial reaction was one of pity.  It looked so desolate and poverty-stricken.    (See photo below.) 

 Hijazi introduced us to the family patriarch, Hajj Ali, and his son (whose name unfortunately escapes me.)    Hajj Ali was warm and friendly, and despite our language barrier, he managed to make us feel welcome.    We went inside his tent, made of black goat-hair.  Although the interior was simple in, with no furniture, only cushions to sit on, it was quite inviting and cool compared to the heat outside.  We sat down on cushions while he served us tea.  Hijazi and Hajj Ali talked animatedly in Arabic.    It is at times like these when my lack of Arabic really bothers me.  Even though Hijazi translated for us, our exchanges consisted of not much more than bare-boned pleasantries. 

After tea, Hajj Ali gave us all pieces of bread he had made.  It was too much to eat, but I didn’t want to give it back or throw it away, so I held on to it during our ride.    For the next part of the tour, we all got into Hajj Ali’s four-wheeled drive vehicle.  They gave us the choice of riding inside or in the outdoor bed.  We all chose to ride in the bed, standing up and holding on to the rails for dear life.  (Just for the record, none of us were spring chickens, and the German woman said she had great-grandchildren.)  Then we were off on a jolty, windy ride through the rugged desert.  There were no roads to speak of, but our driver knew exactly where to go.  The ride was fabulous--so much better than a traditional tour on a big bus.  The more we rode, the more I started to appreciate the desert, including its variety.   We saw a number of female camels with their month-old calves.  Apparently, they only need one male camel for a herd of dozens (or maybe hundreds?) of female camel.  That is one busy camel!  There are some animals in the desert (ibex, foxes, etc., but we were making too much noise for them come near us.)  We saw a beautiful pistachio tree, and lots of delicate wildflowers.  Mostly, we saw lots of undulating rocks glowing in the sunset.  I wasn’t yet ready to move to the desert, but I was starting to see the appeal.

The peak experience for me was when we arrived at the cliffs overhanging the dead sea at sunset—one of the most beautiful view I have ever seen.   My photos really don’t do it justice, and my words even less so.  I wish I could convey its beauty.    I am somewhat afraid of heights, so getting close to the edge of the cliff was exhilarating, yet a bit frightening (especially since the rocks are loose).  However, the young Bedouin guide was absolutely home in these cliffs, climbing up and down them with as much ease as a suburbanite in a shopping mall.

I was fast becoming a desert convert with one part of my mind, while the other reminded me that this was sunset overlooking a sea in the best possible season of the year after a particularly rainy season.  I suspect that if I came in the middle of the day in the middle of the summer, my reaction would be quite different.

After we were done lingering by the cliffs, our guides drove us back to have dinner with the Bedouin family.    The Bedouins are nomadic desert Arabs who rely on their herds of sheep, goats and camel for a living.  They have lived in this area for thousands of years.  Life has always been hard for them, but it has become much harder since the Israelis took control of the land.  The Israelis have been forcing them off of their traditional grazing land and now they are confined to small areas with impoverished villages.  Hijazi says they are not really nomadic anymore (because they are not allowed to be), but they are not really villagers either, since that goes so deeply against their grain.  They are sort of in between the two, eking out an existence in small patches of the desert near Jerusalem.  We Americans are familiar with this narrative, since it sounds very similar to what we did to the American Indians over the past few hundred years. 

Our guides took us to a different encampment than the one we originally visited, even though it was the same family.  Hijazi said that they use one in the summer and one in the winter.  They also use one for visitors, or perhaps when they just need space from each other.  The second one was tucked away into a naturally protected area underneath a cliff.  It was not quite a cave, but the area was protected from the wind.  (By this time it was dark out, so nothing was clear to me.)  When we drove into the encampment, we were greeted by a few camels and several small children.  I felt like I had time travelled back to Biblical times.  Eventually the women came out to greet us as well.  Everyone was gracious and welcoming.  Hijazi said that normally, the women would not show themselves to strange men.  However, Hijazi knows the family very well, and so they do come out to socialize with them.  He says the customs vary from family to family.  This family is not as conservative as some.

The black goat-hair tent is divided into two parts.  One is for men and guests, and the other is for women.  Both were open this evening.  There was also another tent that I was told is used as a kitchen.  They do have electricity, and I saw what looked like a refrigerator and a washing machine in the women’s tent.  Like the other tent, this one had no furniture, but a lot of cushions.  The part that surprised me the most was their color tv!  Because of their satellite, they got excellent reception, and everyone was sitting around watching a Turkish tv show dubbed in Arabic.  So much for going back to Biblical times.

We settled in on the cushions, and our hosts brought us dinner on one large platter (no plates.)  They made a rice and lentil dish served with chicken on top of it.  It was quite good.  Normally, they don’t use silverware, but they gave us some, knowing our strange manners.  After dinner and tea, everyone hung out on the cushions.  I couldn’t tell how many children there were—maybe  six or eight?  Some were Hajj Ali’s children and some were his grandchildren.  Even though he is around 70, he has a little girl who looks to be about 2 years old.  I was told the child was from his second wife.  (She is absolutely adorable!)  Hijazi told us ahead of time that it might be nice to bring some small gifts for the children, so I did.  I distributed the gifts, which were well-received.    The small cars were just as popular with these children as with American children, and Hajj Ali’s little girl clutched the coloring book and coloring pencils I gave her all night long. 

(We were introduced to everyone, but my mind is too feeble to remember names.  I need to work on that!)

The family members asked us questions (translated by Hijazi.)  They seemed fascinated by us.  When I told them I didn’t have children, they seemed puzzled and full of pity.  Hajj Ali told me that they believed that children were the whole point of a woman’s existence.  I felt like saying, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, but I kept my mouth shut.  I told Hijazi to tell them I had a boyfriend, but he told me I can’t say that here.  It would be like saying “Hi, I’m Debra and I’m a slut.”  (Rush Limbaugh would fit right in here.)  He advised me to say I had a fiance or husband.  So now I have a fiance.

Looking at the whole family snuggled up together on the cushions, I was struck by how cozy the whole scene was.  I was tempted to curl up with them, but I figured that might be frowned upon.   After the end of the tour, I wasn’t quite ready to move to the desert and reproduce rapidly.  But at least I could understand its charms.  Sort of.

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Addendum:  I am attaching an article published a few years ago in Palestine Today, which provides more information on Palestinian Bedouins.

The Palestinian Bedouins By Arturo Avendaño During an interview in a goat-hair tent some ten years ago, Sheikh Mohammed Iskheiman Hassan Ka’abneh Milihat Abu Iskheiman, of the Ka’abneh tribe, started to explain the meaning of being Bedouin. The interview was part of a research project initiated by the Italian NGO, C.I.S.P. At that time, a close relationship was formed between C.I.S.P and Sheikh Abu Iskheiman and, after his death, the relationship has continued with the Bedouin communities of the West Bank. The Bedouins, with their specific values, codes of behaviour, and livelihood, are a Palestinian community of tribes that have a common history, culture, ancestral bloodline, and lifestyle that link the various tribes together. The tribes, which include the Jahaleen, Ka’abneh, Rashaydeh, Ramadeen, ‘Azazme, Sawarka, Arenat, Ejbarat, Hanajra, and Amareen, share a nomadic past that has been highlighted by Western travellers’ tales of camel breeding and romantic desert images. Bedouins have become famous for their extraordinary survival skills in an extremely hostile environment. Bedouin families are usually large, with an average of six to ten children. Families where the father has two or three wives could include as many as 25 children. Marriage is usually an event that involves the network of families that compose a clan. According to tradition, it is preferable for a Bedouin to select a wife from within the family, the clan, or the tribe. Marriages are arranged through consultations and agreements among parents, uncles, and cousins. Although marriages with non-Bedouins sometimes take place, the vast majority of Bedouins strictly adhere to tradition. Bedouins who live today in the West Bank have their roots in the Naqab (Negev) desert, which they were forced to leave in 1948, being victims of the violence. This significant event in essence ruptured their Bedouin lifestyle and severely restricted their former freedom of mobility to search for pastures and water for their herds of sheep and goats. As a consequence, these Bedouin communities began to lose not only their livelihood but their cultural identity as well. They had to confront the brutal reality that they had become refugees. The 1967 Israeli occupation displaced them again, and they were forced to settle in the rural areas around Hebron, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Jericho, and the Jordan Valley. As they tried to adapt to this abrupt change, many features of the Bedouin lifestyle underwent a radical transformation. For example, the goat-hair tent has become a dwelling consisting of poor metal shelters that are constructed using old water containers. Overcrowded camps have become the norm, where people and animals share a very limited space that has no running water, sewage system, or electricity. Bedouin shepherds have become semi-urban impoverished inhabitants who are forced to have a sedentary lifestyle. Their knowledge and ancient expertise as animal breeders are utterly useless within a modern urban habitat. The Bedouins have become a minority group who are disdained by some members of society. What has happened to Bedouins today? In order to find out, we will begin with the area around Jerusalem. The Israeli settlement of Ma’aleh Adumim was built on an area formerly inhabited by the Jahaleen tribe. The Jahaleen were evicted by the Israeli Civil Administration, supported by police and army forces. The Jahaleen mukhtars, who are responsible for hundreds of Jahaleen families who want to continue to earn their living from breeding animals and selling dairy products to Palestinian families, live in ‘Ezariyeh and Wadi Abu Hindi. The mukhtars, Mohammad Eid Awwad Salamat Jahaleen el Hersh, “Abu Khaled,” Hammad Mukbel Al Basis, “Abu Daoud,” and Mohammad Hammad Sara’ia Jahaleen Hamadeen, “Abu Yusef,” lament the fact that the Separation Wall has suffocated their communities and prevented them from finding grazing areas for their animals. As a consequence, they must rely on barley and fodder, which not only complicates the task of raising animals but also makes it very expensive. This reality has a devastating effect on the basic income of all Bedouin tribes. Most of them are now faced with a debilitating debt cycle because of the need to purchase animal fodder. The great majority of Bedouins have been evicted from their camps by the Israeli Civil Administration; frequently the metal shelters are destroyed by heavy machines under the protection of the Israeli police and army forces. A tragic reminder of these demolitions is the reconstruction of a destroyed Bedouin primary school at Wadi Abu Hindi. The original school was demolished, and the mukhtar, Abu Yousef, mobilized a group of people to rebuild the school using zinc sheets and wood. The school, which currently has eight teachers from the Palestinian Ministry of Education, is an important initiative of Abu Yousef. On the other hand, Abu Khaled’s goal is to provide higher education for the youth under his responsibility, without forfeiting their identity as Bedouins. The Ka’abneh and Rashaydeh tribes live in the rural areas of Jericho and the Jordan Valley. In the camp of Suleyman Salameh Zayed Rashaydeh, “Abu Feisal,” in Dyouk, the heat inside the metal shelters is unbearable. The animals also look tired and crowded in the scarce shared shade. There are few Bedouins in the camp, since during the summer they move to the rural areas of Taybeh. Families move on tractors and trucks, whereas animals move through the desert in short displacements that last one or two days. The mukhtar, Abu Salameh, moved from Al Mu’arrajat to an area in Taybeh. According to an agreement with the land owner, who is a fellah from Taybeh, Abu Salameh’s animals can eat the grass after the harvesting, and his community can put up some of the few remaining traditional goat-hair tents. The tents are installed relatively distant from each other in order to keep the privacy between families, unlike the overcrowded shelters in the camps of ‘Ezarieyeh. In front of the Bedouin tents, one can see the Israeli settlement of Rimonim as well as cultivated areas, from which Bedouins’ animals are prevented from grazing. Pasturing in the rural areas of Jericho and the Jordan Valley is forbidden for Bedouins, and there have been several cases of Bedouin deaths or injuries due to the explosion of abandoned mines. The Bedouin tribes of Ramadeen, Amreen, Azazme, Ka’abneh, and Hanajrah are located in Hebron; and the Rashaydeh, Azazme, Ka’abneh, and ‘Amreen tribes are found in Bethlehem. In these southern areas, Bedouins are represented by mukhtars as well as village councils. These Bedouin communities are more settled, although the majority of them gain their livelihood from animal-breeding, which requires adequate supplies of water and fodder. Bedouins have thousands of years of experience in raising sheep and goats in the desert - an environment that is productively used by the Bedouins as they arrange their lives according to the seasons and the availability of pastures and water. Their seasonal displacements should be protected by laws, as they represent a way of life and work. The problems of Bedouin Palestinians have been highlighted by Mukhtar Khamees Salem Hanajra, of Beni Naim, during international conferences of indigenous people. He noted especially the increasing vulnerability of Bedouins as a minority group and the risk of disappearance of Bedouin livelihood. The Bedouin lifestyle, albeit different from the majority of Palestinians, should be protected as an ancient cultural identity, and their diversity should be considered a valuable contribution to the entire society. International organizations can offer support to the Bedouin community through organizing campaigns for the implementation of international laws for the protection of minorities and indigenous populations. Arturo Avendaño is an expert in international cooperation and works with CISP on Bedouin issues and health projects. Article photos by Arturo Avendaño