Palestine: The day of the stolen donkey

This morning I and some other volunteers were invited to join a family harvesting almonds on their land in the village of Kafr Qalil. We went and spent a tranquil two hours enjoying the beautiful scenery, drinking tea, eating bread and zataar and clambering in the almond trees, shaking the nuts to the ground.  

But our time on the land was shadowed by threats – the family are unfortunate enough to have had the settlement of Bracha illegally built overlooking their land, looming on the hill overhead. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the settlers of Bracha are infamous for their extremism and violence – even named by the UN as some of the most violent colonists in the West Bank. As well as this, the road next to their trees is a settler-only road, out of bounds for Palestinians; requiring them to bring two donkeys with them to carry their supplies and to carry the almonds back over the difficult route back to the village. This in turn means that there are regular Israeli military patrols along this road and around the area.

So that explains the presence of soldiers next to the farmers as soon as we arrived on the land – at first harassing the family, asking what they were doing there, why they had come, how long they would stay; all of this on private Palestinian land, where they should have no right to dictate Palestinian actions. But this land, because it is near the settlement and the settler road, has been named Area C, giving the Israeli authorities full military and civil control. So despite us being on Palestinian Land in Palestine, there is Israeli rule of law. The family had been required to apply for permission from the Israeli authorities to pick on their land on this day.

Considering all of this, after our first two reasonably tranquil hours (except for the army hanging about nearby), when the settlers arrived it really wasn’t a surprise. Three of them, brazen in their bright white outfits, came marching down the hill towards us. We continued harvesting the almonds, attempting nonchalance through the anxiety and trying to look natural on the land, as if they wouldn’t notice us if we just ignored them. But of course the Palestinians were the reason they approached and the reason they were now shouting at us “Get off our land!”

Running towards us, one of them violently shoved the father of family, shouting at him. One soldier approached and actually tried to stop the settler, who shouted at him as well – I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to film the first attack…my hands shook as I stood next to the farmer, who remained steadfast facing the invader as he screamed at us. But my fear was nothing compared to that of the young daughter of the family, a shy girl who had been helping the family collecting almonds and also playing around us in the beautiful hills. She was crying and trying to hide behind her mother by this time, peering out at her father who was clearly in danger of imminent violent assault from several settlers. Another tried to run towards us from the hill above.

At this point we were retreating, quickly…looking back though, the father of the family realised that in our escape, we had left behind the bag containing all of almonds that we had gathered over the morning. He asked us to go back for them, or our morning would have been wasted and the settlers would have taken the almonds. The likelihood of us, as non-Palestinians, being attacked by the settler was considerably lower, so back we went to get the bag. The soldiers were, for once, holding back the settlers, but when we asked politely for the fruits of our labour “I’m going to get the bag, then I’m leaving”, the settler continued to tell us “you are taking nothing, you can’t be here, it’s not their property”. Although the soldiers were also telling us to leave, one listened to our request to pass us the almonds and we immediately backed up, following the family who were hovering a few metres behind. 

We walked back up to the settler only road and tried to pass together onto the land on the other side, but when we were there we noticed another settler – clearly visible in white on the hill above – untying the family’s donkeys and trying to lead them away. The family called to the soldiers asking them to stop the theft, but instead they came over and ordered the family to go up the hill, whilst we had to walk along the road. Although they couldn’t give any reason for this decision, the soldiers threatened us with arrest if we didn’t comply. So the group split and the other volunteer and I walked anxiously along the road, watching the family walking above us – they had managed to get one of the donkeys back, but the other one was evidently missing.

Then we saw the settlers again – the group of them had gathered and were running after the family. I called the father of the family and we spoke anxiously on the phone “khbeer moshqilla”, a big problem , he said, “please come back to stay with us”. We ran up towards them, trying to avoid being seen by the soldiers – who were just looking on, watching as the settlers gained ground on the family. Back together, we were a mixed group of four adults, three children and a single donkey, making it very difficult to outrun the settlers, three adult males in their prime.

We kept going, stumbling over rocks and tree roots – Palestinian agricultural land that is badly maintained because of the evident dangers of working there. Eventually, we turned and saw that they were no longer pursuing us. Collapsing together on the ground to drink water and relax for a moment, we realised the true catastrophe of the loss of a donkey for a Palestinian family; a necessity for farming and a huge expense, not easy for a family trying to eke a living from occupied land.

Once again, I was terrified when the family requested that we go back to ask the soldiers if they could get the animal back, especially if it had been taken into the settlement, but we agreed that as internationals, once again we were less vulnerable than the family to re-approach the area. Going back onto the road was scary, especially as when we reached it we saw the same group of settlers talking to the soldiers. Although they all clearly saw us, it was the settlers who approached us, not the police or military – it’s evident which group is the actual law in the West Bank.

We walked to the left side of the road, trying to avoid the settlers who were on the right-hand side; they mirrored our actions and walked towards us. Veering to the other side, the followed us again; a strange game of “chicken”, in which we were very unwilling participants. As they reached us, we tried to ignore them and walk to the soldiers as the family had requested, but creating a line the settlers blocked the road “you can’t pass from here”. Trying to persuade them that all we wanted was to find the donkey was not successful and they threatened us with violence if we didn’t leave immediately. Walking back, we were shadowed by the settlers until we were back on the main road. Feeling defeated, we left.

Rule of law means nothing in the West Bank for Palestinians – the true rulers, lawmakers and enforcement are the settlers, with backup by the military, making it more like the Wild West than the West Bank. But as more and more Israelis colonise the West Bank, the number of soldiers who are also settlers increases and the cooperation between the groups to oppress the Palestinian owners of the land also increases.

The family’s donkey is still missing; they think it has been taken into the settlement. But they will return to harvest their crops on their own land, once again for almonds in the next weeks and then later for olives in October. They refuse to be intimidated into leaving their land and livelihood, and we will continue to stand with them as long as they want an international presence. The olive harvest is a key time of year for Palestinians and therefore also for the International Solidarity Movement. If you also want to stand in solidarity and defiance with the people of Palestine, read more about the olive harvest campaign here.