Yalla!  Yalla!  Scenes from my Wadi Qelt Hike

Last Sunday, I went on a guided hiking tour of part of the Wadi Qelt.  Wadi Qelt is a spectacularly dramatic crevice in the desert hills between Jerusalem and Jericho.  (In Arabic, “Qelt” means valley or sometimes riverbed.)  It follows the spring of Ein Qelt, which provides the route with lush greenery.   Wadi Qelt used to be used as a major travel route in the Roman times.  The tour was led by Hijazi Eid http://hijazih.wordpress.com/.  There were three of us tourists, two American woman and one German woman.  Hijazi picked us up in Bethlehem and drove us to the beginning of the hike, at the top of chalky, undulating desert hills.

In this scene, D refers to me (Debra), H to Hijazi, and T and K to the other tourists (in order to protect their privacy.)

We all get our backpacks , water bottles, hats and sunglasses in place and start to hike.

 

Two minutes into the hike:

H:  The valley of Wadi Qelt used to be used as a main travel route between Jerusalem and Jericho.  We will not hike the whole valley today, though.  Our hike will be about 15 kilometers.  If you look below you’ll notice….

D:  Look!  A camel!  Can we stop and take a picture?

K:  Yes, let’s stop and get a picture.

T:  Oh, I love camels.  Hi, sweetie.  [Pets camel on head.] 

D:  Hmmmm…that camel looks really dirty, but is still awfully cute.   [Pets camel gingerly.]

Camel does the camel equivalent of rolling eyes and thinks, “Oh, brother.  More tourists.  It’s such a drag to be so picturesque.”

(Several minutes of picture taking and cooing ensue.)

Seven minutes into the hike:

H:  So, as I was saying, if you look below, you’ll notice….

Small child walks up to us carrying scarves and says something in Arabic.

H:  Does anybody want to buy a washaha  [Arabic word for scarf)?

D:  Kahwah?  Did you say coffee?  Yes, I’d love some.

H:  Not coffee--scarf, washaha.

D:  Oh, sorry.  This one’s kind of pretty.  [Fingers the scarf.]  But no thanks.  I don’t want a scarf.

K and T shake their heads no.

Ten minutes into the hike

H:  OK, ladies, yalla, yalla [Arabic for “come on, let’s get going.”]

[Everybody starts walking.]

Twelve minutes into the hike.

H:  If you look below, over there, you will see the remainders of an aqueduct.  It was built over 2000 years ago by the Romans and was used by the Hasmonean rulers to carry water from the Ein Qelt [Spring of Qelt] to their palaces and to the city of Jericho.

D:  Oh, wow!  Look at those pretty flowers!  What are they called?

T:  Anemone

K:  They are lovely.  [Takes out camera.]

D:  Yes, they are.  And they are so, so…..red.  [Takes out camera and stoops down low to take pictures.]

D, T, and K stop for a few minutes to take pictures.

T:  It’s so beautiful here.

D:   Yes, it is.  I’m glad we’re here in the spring when everything is in bloom.

Sixteen minutes into the hike:

H:  Ok, ladies.  Yalla!  Yalla!

Lady hikers start walking again.

Twenty minutes into the hike:

                D:  Look! There are the remains of some old structure over there.  What is it?

                H:  The remains of a Roman aqueduct.

                D:   Really? The Romans built an aqueduct here?   

H:   Yes.  They built it to lead the water from the Ein Qelt spring to Jericho and all the homes in

between.

D:   Oh, look at the lovely tree.   It’s so green.  K, could you please take a picture of me by this tree?

                K:  Sure, if you could take one of me, too.  T, would you like us to take one of you, too?

                T:  Yes, please!

Several minutes of picture taking of lady tourists in front of tree ensue.

Twenty-five minutes into the hike:

                H:  Yalla, yalla, ladies.  (Begins to sing a song in Arabic that has the refrain “yalla, yalla.”)

Ladies begin walking again.

H:  Below you will see the remains of a flour mill from the 19^th century.  Today, a Bedouin family is living in the house and taking care of it.

D:  (looking at her camera’s record of the 35 hiking pictures she’s taken so far while trying to hike at the same time) thinks, I look like a dork in this hat, but I need it to keep out the sun.

Thirty-one minutes into the hike:

T:  Could we stop for a few minutes, please?  I really need to go to the bathroom.

H:  OK, just find a rock and we’ll wait for you up ahead.

D, K and H continue to walk a little bit to give T some privacy.  They stand around and wait for t to finish. D thinks her foot might be starting to hurt a bit.

                D:  Hijazi, what would happen if I tripped and hurt my leg and couldn’t walk back?

                H:  I would have to carry you back.  (He says this with a look of absolute terror in his eyes.)

                D:  Bummer.  (That’s English for “that would be quite unfortunate for you.”)

Two minutes later, H presents D with a walking stick that he made from wood found near the path.

                D thinks, That was very thoughtful of him!

                H thinks, Please, God, please, please, please don’t let her hurt herself today!!!  Not on my watch!

                D:  Hey, I think I saw a woman in that house over there.  Does somebody live there? 

                H:  Yes, a Bedouin family lives there, next to the remains of a flour mill from the 19^th century.

T comes back from the powder room.

Thirty-eight minutes into the hike, the group have advanced about 300 meters and have collectively taken 72 photos. 

                H:  Yalla, yalla, ladies.  This is a four-hour hike without breaks.  At the rate we’re going, though, it
                will take us three days to get to Jericho.  We need to pick up the pace. 

                T:  Sure, of course.

                D:  No problem.

                K:  I’m ready.

                H:  Please be careful!  Watch your step!

The ladies focus on hiking for several minutes.  Progress is being made. 

But then, 45 minutes into the hike:

                D:  Oh, look!  There’s a Palestinian dog!  I wonder if he speaks English?  I really need to get a

                picture of him. . . .

(Several minutes of “nice doggies” and “good boys” and “oh, I missed him in that shot” ensue.)

. . . . .

Fast forward eight hours.  The group is still hiking.

D:  How much longer before we’re there? 

H:  Just 15 minutes or so.

D thinks, I’m hot.  My feet hurt.  I’m thirsty.  This hike is taking sooooo much longer than H said it would.  He really needs to be more accurate in the future.

A Rapper Visits the Dead Sea

Girl, you got it goin’ on,
With yo azure waves and sun so bright,
I wanna chill with you.  It seems so right
That Imma give up reading the Scrolls of Qumran

To splash with you, baby, you hot little ho.
Let me shimmy in your depths and play with all yo fish.
Damn, girl!  Those rocks are hard, they hurt my toes.
You’re hurting me, you bitch!

Now I’m in the water, this is good.
Yo, what’s with all this salt?
It burns my eyes and hurts my sores—you’re ruining the mood.
Wo, now I’m floating against my will.   You’ve screwed with my gestalt.

F____ this _____, I’m getting out.
Girl, you bust my chops. 
Even the fish can’t take your crap; that’s why they’ve gone, no doubt.
I’m leaving you, going back to the hood.  I’d rather wrestle with the cops.

Land of Oz

Wandering around an unfamiliar neighborhood is one of my favorite parts of travelling.  I love to poke around in the shops, fortify myself at the local cafes, and gawp at the passersby.   Last Sunday, I spent the afternoon meandering around the Ben Yehuda Street area of downtown Jerusalem.    Most of this street is an open-air pedestrian mall lined with shops, restaurants, coffee shops and ice cream vendors.    This area does not contain much in the way of major tourist attractions, but the atmosphere was pleasant, and my guidebook assured me I would “rub shoulders with the locals” (rather than being stampeded by herds of pilgrims.)

It sounded like a perfect place to spend a leisurely afternoon.  I did enjoy it.  However, I was not getting my usual explorer’s high.  I was tired that day, and feeling a little lonely.  I explored some of the shops, but I couldn’t afford to buy anything I liked and the shopkeepers seemed irritated by “look, but don’t buy” resolve.  Even a café latte/gelato treat didn’t save me from my plummeting spirits.

After a few hours of wandering, I was about to call it a day and go back to my hotel, when suddenly I saw this sign.

My ears perked up and my tail started wagging.  Or at least these things would have happened if I had been a dog.   Food, caffeine and books:  these are a few of my favorite things.  I needed to check out this place!  Tmol Shilshom was no Barnes and Noble behemoth, though, straddling an entire city block.    This gem was tucked away in a corner and not easy to find.    Following the arrow on the sign meant I had to first walk through this slightly creepy alley:

No creepy alley would keep me from my café/bookstore, though, so I plodded onward.  On the other side of the alley, though, I still didn’t see anything looking like a bookstore.  I walked on for awhile and saw a door that opened into a building.  When I looked inside, a man came to the door and asked if he could help me.  I asked if this were a café/bookstore, and he said, “No, this is a synagogue.”   Oops.  The man did point me in the direction of the promised  land, though.  It was over here:

I discovered it by going up those stairs, taking a left, and then going up another flight of stairs.

Finally, Tmol Shilshom.  For me, finding this place was like the moment in the Wizard of Oz when the movie changes from black-and-white to color.  My spirits soared—especially when I noted they served beer and wine as well as food, coffee and books.  Could the Emerald City be any better?

This restaurant/café/bookstore is located in a 130 year old building.  It occupies what used to be two separate apartments, separated by an outdoor terrace, which now serves as an outdoor café.   The building was originally used for residential apartments.  Later, it was turned into a tailor’s shop and later still, into commercial space.  But now it is a restaurant/café/bookstore catering to bookish, intellectual, artistic writer types.  (They often use the space for book launches and readings.)  The atmosphere is warm and cozy.  The ceilings are of arched stone, the furniture of dark wood, and the numerous alcoves are filled with books in Hebrew and English.  (I thought about taking pictures, but I didn’t want to look like a total dork.)

Before sitting down, I of course first needed to check out the books.  It didn’t take me too long before my book radar led me to a chunky memoir by Amos Oz called A Tale of Love and Darkness.  I had never read Oz, but I had heard of him—vaguely. Apparently, he is Israel’s most famous writer.  I bought the book, sat down at a table, ordered wine and vegetable couscous, and was immediately captivated by his prose, which is both funny and sad at the same time.  He writes about growing up in Jerusalem in the 40s and 50s; his prose evokes the early days of Israel so strongly that I was not only transported back to an earlier time, I felt the need to wash my hands with antibacterial soap.  Here is an example of his prose:

My Grandmother Shlomit arrived in Jerusalem straight from Vilna one hot summer’s day in 1933, took one startled look at the sweaty markets, the colourful stalls, the swarming sidestreets full of the cries of hawkers, the braying of donkeys, the bleating of goats, the squawks of pullets hung up with their legs tied together, and blood dripping from the necks of slaughtered chickens, she saw the shoulders and arms of middle-eastern men and the strident colors of the fruit and vegetables, she saw the hills all around and the rocky slopes, and immediately pronounced her final verdict: “The Levant is full of germs.”

 The explorer’s high that had eluded me all afternoon had returned.  I got my “hit,” and settled in for a rapturous evening with white wine and Oz.

Barriers

On Sunday, I travelled from Bethlehem to Jerusalem.  On the face of it, this seems like something hardly worth mentioning, since Bethlehem is five miles away from Jerusalem and, because of urban sprawl, the two have basically merged into one urban area.  However, saying “I travelled from Bethlehem to Jerusalem” is a statement most Palestinians are not allowed to make, except on special occasions and only then with permission from the Israeli government.    

The Israelis have built a wall separating Israel from most of the West Bank (more on that later). In order to pass from one side to the other, people are required to go through checkpoints.  I did this on Sunday.  A checkpoint is similar to going through security in airport, except the atmosphere is more oppressive and punitive (high, dirty concrete walls, long tunnels, metal bars.)   Probably a better comparison would be to entering and leaving a prison.   I went on a Sunday, when the crowds were minimal, but it still took a significant amount of time and hassle.   (People tell me that on a work day during peak times, it is normal to spend 2 – 2 ½ hours on each side coming and going.)   I was able to get through with no problem because I am an American tourist (I had to show my passport.)

However, if I were an ordinary Palestinian, I would not have been let through at all unless I had a permit issued by the Israelis.  (Israelis are also not allowed to enter Palestine without permission.)  I spoke to some of the people from Dar Al-Kalima to better understand how this worked.  Some told me that they were able to get permission twice a year for religious holidays (Christmas and Easter) so they could visit the holy sites.  These passes lasted for about a month.  During that time, if I understand correctly, they can come and go as much as they want.  (I do not know if the pass limits them to Jerusalem, or if they can go anywhere in Israel.)  However, a young Muslim woman told me that she was not allowed to get a pass to visit the Al-Aqsa Mosque, the holy site for Muslims.  I am not sure if that meant she was not allowed to enter Jerusalem at all, but I think that’s what it means.  I was told the Israelis did this to “divide and conquer” the different Palestinian populations.   I was told that if someone works in Israel but lives in Palestine, they can get a work permit to enter and leave (but this permit includes a curfew, so they cannot spend the night.)  One woman told me that she was offered a teaching job in Jerusalem, which came with a significant salary increase.  However, she said she didn’t take it because it would have required several hours a day of hassle.  (Imagine having to go through airport security twice a day just to go and come back from your job.) 

This system creates huge amounts of problems for Palestinians.  I know one couple, for example, where the wife is originally from Jerusalem and the husband is from Bethlehem.  The two are not allowed to live together, even though they have three children.  The wife has a Jerusalem apartment and the husband has a place in Bethlehem.  The wife commutes back and forth frequently simply to see her family.  The requirements for entry to Israel as so stringent and the hassle is such that one young man told me he was 23 years old before he ever went to Jerusalem.  For my Minnesotan readers, that would be the equivalent of a person from Roseville having never been to Minneapolis or St. Paul. 

It is worth noting that Israel is much wealthier than Palestine, so not being able to go to Israel means going without all sorts of medical, educational, and cultural amenities.    (For those of you who like facts and statistics, according to the CIA World Factbook, Israel ranks 41^st in the world in terms of  GDP per capita, out of a total of 262 countries.  For comparison, the U.S. ranks 12, France 35 and Spain 43.  The West Bank, on the other hand, ranks 173^rd, just below Sudan and just above Pakistan.)

The wall and the checkpoints make tourism complicated.  As a general rule, Israeli cabs are not allowed in Palestine, and vice versa.  So one way to go from Bethlehem to Jerusalem (or vice versa) is to take a cab or bus to the checkpoint, get out and walk through security, and then get another cab or bus on the other side.  I was able, however, to take a taxi directly from the Old City in Jerusalem to Bethlehem in one taxi.  The Israeli taxi was able to get into Bethlehem by going the long way around and coming through the “back way” so to speak.  There was a checkpoint on this side, too, but they didn’t do a security check on the way in.  (I don’t know why.)  Because this is a much longer trip, it’s also considerably more expensive, of course.

Regarding the wall, it was first begun in 1994.  Israel said they needed to build a wall to keep out Palestinian terrorists.   Depending on the area, the wall may be made of wire, or, as in the case of the Bethlehem area, it might be a 26 foot tall concrete wall.  Everything regarding the wall is controversial, including the name.   Israelis call it the “security fence,” while Palestinians call it the “apartheid wall” or “racial segregation wall.”  However, one of the most controversial parts is that the wall does not follow the “green line,” the border between Palestine and Israel set in the 1949 armistice.   Much of the wall “snakes inside” to Palestinian territory, which has the effect of grabbing even more land from the Palestinians.

Israelis defend the wall and checkpoints as necessary to their security, saying it helps to prevent terrorist attacks.  I understand the need to defend against and punish terrorists.   However, the result of these policies is to punish the entire population of Palestinians, the vast majority of whom have nothing to do with terrorists.  It would be like putting a barrier around and restricting the movements of a whole state in the U.S. because the crime rate there is too high.  And it only makes the Palestinians even more angry and resentful of Israelis.  As one person said, “Palestine is like one big prison.”

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.

--------------------

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