By Jameel Dababat

NABLUS, Sunday, June 2, 2024 (WAFA) – In the northern Jordan Valley region, located in the farthest northeast of the occupied West Bank, lies the village of Ein al-Bayda, where hope and hardship intertwine like the roots of ancient olive trees.

Here, Mohammed Abu Metawea, a stalwart figure among the villagers, stands before a group of men at the village council building, his voice animated with anticipation as he declares, "The watermelon season is near."

However, this agricultural milestone has been fraught with daily setbacks for months. "They [Israelis] took our springs," he adds, reminding of the hardships the villagers have been experiencing in the face of the colonial Israeli practices.

Abu Metawea, a practical man with a gentle gaze and welcoming smile, can precisely enumerate the agricultural areas surrounding the village. He agrees to guide us to a place called Khirbet al-Deir, but he gets there ahead of us before midday.

Over the past years, rising temperatures, irregular rainfall, the impossibility of constructing dams in the Jordan Valley, and outdated irrigation methods have led to a severe reduction in water availability. These challenging conditions have been exacerbated by relentless pressure from Israeli settlers.

To water his land, Abu Metawea now needs to collect spring water in cement and earthen containers, which have become contentious points with settlers who use them for swimming.

Once known as wheat farmers, then cattle ranchers, and recently, kings of watermelon and mini cucumber farming, the Palestinian villagers here have chosen these livelihoods with bravery and determination. This was before the demographic vacuum threatening the forthcoming independent state became as severe as it is today.

The history of this region can be recounted through the lives of its people, long before the racial dynamics introduced by Israeli settlements started post-1967 and reached their peak in recent months. Abu Metawea has been losing spring after spring for months.

"They [settlers] took ten springs. Initially, they placed swings around them, then confiscated water pumps and threw them into the water," he explains.

Palestinian political appeals often describe the displacement occurring within the West Bank directly, accompanied by a formal and popular mood deeply pessimistic about the future. However, this year is different; the frustration has reached a breaking point.

In a matter of months, international organizations have highlighted the insecurity of Palestinians facing horrific settler attacks. As some families huddled that night in dark, flimsy rooms, fearing settler detection, an urgent appeal to the international community was broadcast: Stop the forced displacement in the West Bank.

The call, aired on October 29, 2023, by the Israeli human rights organization B'Tselem, drew varied reactions home and abroad. Days before the broadcast, a pastoral family relocated to the outskirts of Tubas after being threatened with death if they stayed.

No one appears optimistic. The appeal states that the only way to stop this displacement is through "international intervention."

Something deeply frightening is unfolding in the eastern West Bank. This was supposed to be the generation of hope, reaping the fruits of the Oslo Accords and leading to liberation from occupation. Since early 2023, everything has changed for Abu Metawea and the region’s residents. By the end of the year, there was a war on Gaza and a silent one in the West Bank, aimed at altering the demographic situation east of the West Bank.

What farmers here along the narrow Jordan Valley strip face is the clearest sign of collapsing hopes and losing the land. At noon on May 22, 2024, Abu Metawea reclines in a corner of his home, the closest to the Jordan River, recounting his daily struggle around the springs with folded arms and a continuously moving head. Despite his fear of settlers returning to the springs, he shares his story with a distinctive storytelling style.

Abu Metawea is one of the area's prominent farmers, and despite their attempts to hide their fear of the future, it surfaces in their conversations. These farmers once had the resolve not only to produce the best watermelons and other fruits and vegetables but also to introduce new crops. Abu Metawea was brave and skilled, cultivating vast lands in recent years, but his future now is at the mercy of powerful winds uprooting everything in their path.

People’s testimonies here are divided into several parts: the fear of expulsion, the fear of assault, and the latest fear of Israeli flags. About 15 kilometers from Tubas in the northern West Bank, many flags have been planted in vacant areas and citizens' yards. Recently, locals mentioned that the Israelis placed a flag on an archaeological hill called Tel al-Hama. The act of land seizure through flag planting is a stark example of the significant daily losses Palestinians face.

Naturally, Palestinians here try to avoid the flags, fearing the wind might knock them down, and they’ll be blamed. This is the story of a flag toppled by strong winds, and Palestinians were accused, paying the price when settlers arrived the next day with threats of death and destruction.

Wadi Al-Maleh: A valley of struggles amid rapid changes

In the heart of the Jordan Valley, between two mountain ranges, lies a dry valley known as Wadi Al-Maleh. Once a thriving area, it now stands as a stark reminder of one of the most rapid transformations occurring over Palestinian land.

A few meters from the valley, a spring once vital to the local community is now controlled by settlers, who use it for their own gatherings. The sight today shows the settlers' absolute dominance in the region, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the future of the valley's residents. The pressing question on everyone's mind is, "Where will we go when they drive us out?"

In a short period, changes here are visible within an hour’s drive at moderate speed. The rapid transformation has forced many Palestinians to leave their homes, displacing them either within the Jordan Valley or to nearby cities like Tubas, Ramallah, and Jericho.

Abu Metawea says the daily changes are undeniable. His life, marked by the scars of this conflict, is a testament to the daily struggles faced by the inhabitants of the Jordan Valley. Testimonies from residents along the Jordan Valley and near the highlands of Nablus and Ramallah, major population and economic centers, echo the same story of hardship and displacement.

The destabilization of these long-established pastoral communities has resulted from decisions made in Israeli military and government offices. These decisions included judicial and military orders for herders to leave, often giving them little time to comply.

Swift but brutal settler attacks

Over several months, numerous testimonies from Palestinians to human rights investigators have highlighted the peak in displacement operations. Settler attacks are swift and brutal. Emerging from nearby settlements, they attack, burn, and shoot, often completing their raids within an hour, leaving villagers without homes, cars, or fields.

Near the eastern outskirts of Al-Farsiya village, part of Wadi Al-Maleh, farmers have shown unusual skepticism towards any international stance attempting to curb settler attacks. Here, settlers have excavated mountains above Palestinian homes to establish new settlements. The closer Palestinians are to water sources, the greater the danger they face.

One resident in Al-Farsiya mentioned a new unwritten rule: "If your dog runs off, don’t chase it," reflecting the severe movement restrictions imposed by settlers. Since October, the situation has worsened, with settlers arriving months ago, threatening to kill anyone who remained.

Testimonies from local Palestinians reveal multiple settler groups exerting pressure to force Palestinians out, escalating to threats of slaughter and murder. People are extremely fearful of naming themselves to the media, afraid of settler retribution.

WAFA correspondent analyzed videos circulating on social media and WhatsApp groups, conducting interviews with assaulted Palestinians. Some lost property, others faced death threats if they didn’t leave, and some stayed put, unable to find alternative places.

On the night of May 28, 2024, an unknown number of settlers sneaked into Al-Farsiya again. The objective remained unclear until dawn. By morning, Shamikh Daraghmeh, a local herder, found his water tank missing, later photographed in a settler’s farm nearby by a human rights activist.

Digital social networks serve as crucial tools for warning each other during peak attacks, thanks to the availability of communication devices and the internet, which has mitigated daily damages. Armed settlers, some equipped with machine guns due to Israeli minister Itamar Ben-Gvir's policies, have immediately destroyed farms, barns, and homes deep in the West Bank, as seen in Turmus Ayya and Al-Mughayir near Ramallah.

Over subsequent months, they ignited fires on thousands of agricultural dunams, wrecked vehicles, and forced hundreds of Palestinians to flee their homes. Armed settlers, many from central West Bank settlements, have seized opportunities to grab land.

The most significant land losses occurred recently in Wadi Al-Firan in the Jordan Valley. Activist Aref Daraghmeh estimated that settlers fenced off 60,000 dunams, now either grazing lands for settlement livestock or completely closed off.

After months of settler attacks on the water ponds Abu Metawea uses for irrigation in Khirbet al-Deir, farmers prepared to harvest their watermelon crop at the end of May, a fleeting wave of optimism and joy spread.

Historically, pastoral communities in the eastern West Bank, with their deep roots, have always tied their stability to water sources. Prevented from accessing and transporting water, many Palestinians left their areas. Daraghmeh noted, "Mountain areas were emptied because water became scarce, and their lands were confiscated."

As summer's scorching heat descends, water crises resurface, prompting daily tanker trips from agricultural villages to pastoral communities. Previously, these trips headed to springs now controlled by settlers. Today, they aim for a few remaining agricultural water pipes, barely providing enough for farmers.

Amid these struggles, Abu Metaweaa and others face an increasingly uncertain future, battling relentless forces that seem determined to uproot them from their lands. As the seasons change and the conflict intensifies, the farmers of the Jordan Valley hold onto their dwindling hope, their lives a testament to resilience amid adversity.

Displacement under the veil of war

To document the relentless campaign of forced displacement, Israeli human rights organization, B'Tselem, issued a report title "Displacement Under the Veil of War." From January to April, investigators meticulously tracked the forced eviction of 1,056 Palestinians from 18 communities across the West Bank. But beyond the numbers lies a stark reality painted vividly by daily video footage capturing the somber aftermath of settler attacks.

In the dead of night, the tranquility of Arab al-Mleihat was shattered by the frenzied barking of dogs owned by local shepherds. As dawn broke, it became clear that a brazen raid had occurred; settlers, emboldened by darkness, had descended upon the village, pilfering livestock under the guise of predawn shadows. But this was no isolated incident — it was part of a systematic campaign of intimidation and land seizure orchestrated by armed settlers.

For Hasan al-Mleihat, overseeing a local defense organization, each day brings fresh tales of aggression and defiance. His community, perched atop what he describes as a "sheet of fire," faces an uncertain future.

And yet, amidst the turmoil, there are those who refuse to relinquish their ancestral lands. The theft of livestock, the destruction of homes — these are but skirmishes in a larger battle for survival.

Following the video clip broadcast of the theft operation, shared globally, the daily attacks did not cease. Residents now report the presence of a fantasy squad formed by settlers assaulting these communities. This squad reached Arab Al-Mleihat four days after the dawn attack and chased the residents for over an hour before retreating.

The reality of what has happened in the past months reveals the dark veil imposed on the eastern West Bank, especially evident among the Mleihats.

This narrative was recorded by a B'Tselem investigator: "On November 28, 2023, around 20:00, approximately five armed settlers and soldiers, some of them masked, arrived at the community. They roamed among the tents, entered and searched them, claiming their livestock had gone missing. The settlers also cut the cable supplying electricity from solar panels to one of the tents. A verbal confrontation ensued between the settlers, soldiers, and the residents, during which the former attacked some residents, pushing and hitting them with the butts of their rifles. Eventually, the settlers and soldiers stole about 15 head of cattle and left the area."

Each member of the community has their own account of what is happening on the land, sometimes difficult to distinguish from each other except by the narrator's name. Mohammad Mleihat, one of the well-known young faces in this community, is more pessimistic than most about what the future holds.

Settlers emulating Bedouin lifestyle

Based on her daily observations, Mohammad recounts how settlers encroach upon the land and attempt to emulate the Bedouins in their lifestyle, starting to herd livestock and build homes resembling those of pastoralists to exploit and control the land.

Indeed, the damage inflicted on Palestinian families can often be repaired, and simple dwellings can be rebuilt after demolition, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. In the depths lies the humanitarian tragedy experienced by hundreds of Palestinian families who witness the encroachment on their land within the confines of their homes.

Three months ago, the Mliehat residents began recounting the boundaries of their new lives and how the horizon closed in on them. Mohammad himself witnessed a bleak picture when the settlers reached the areas of the pens and delineated new borders for the land they had seized.

By compiling signs of despair into one image, the Mliehats are convinced that they are facing the harshest chapter of the isolation and control imposed by the settlers.

This is another version of that image from different perspectives. After fifty years of life, Harbi Abu al-Kibash recounts this tragedy in simple words: "I was born here, lived here, and was expelled from here after fifty years," referring to what happened to the Humsa gathering, where all its residents were forced to leave.

Attempting to reclaim life through memories and past seems impossible in this war waged by armed settlers against the communities. Before the final displacement in 2022, the Humsa gathering witnessed seven waves of total demolition carried out by the Israeli occupation army.

One of the residents, who declined to provide his name, said, "I remember the fear, the cold, and hundreds of other memories, and I don't feel pain. I remember the displacement, and I can't bear it." This man did not want to leave the pastoral gathering where he had lived for many years, but his wife's insistence and fear of attacks by the army and settlers forced him to leave.

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J.D/M.N