Scattered around the periphery of the ever-endangered village of Al-Khan Al-Ahmar, to the east of Jerusalem on the road down to the Dead Sea, are small Palestinian Bedouin communities still somehow holding on. Most of them by now have only one extended family. Many of them are from the Ka`abneh tribe, or a symbiosis of Ka`abneh and the Jahalin. They’ve been there for many decades, at least. All of these communities, without exception, have crazed Israeli settlers at their throats, usually dominating the hills overlooking the Bedouin homes. The settlers do here what they always do: they cut the pipes that bring water to these communities; they bring their goats and sheep into the villages, so they can mix them with the Bedouin herds and then claim that the Bedouin have stolen the settler sheep; they enlist the police—now totally Ben-Gvirified—into harassing and torturing Palestinians; and so on, with the overt aim of driving these people from their homes. A few days ago settlers came storming in their Ranger tractor into a Bedouin herd near Nahila; they mowed down two Palestinians and several sheep. The police came and arrested, guess who, the two Palestinian victims.
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At-Tawa’il. June 11, 2026. Post by David Shulman
‘Imad is, I think, the sweetest human being I have known, perhaps the sweetest in the universe. He’s 65 years old. We meet him with his flock of sheep out in the fields. He’s a man of gentle disposition, living simply and affirming the basic values—honesty, lovingkindness, generosity, courage, non-violence. He can’t understand how the settlers feed on hate. A few nights ago, after midnight, when ‘Imad was sleeping, a settler armed with a heavy club invaded his house and viciously beat him and his wife. Fortunately, our night-shift activists in the madafeh, just a few yards from ‘Imad’s home, heard the screams and put an end to the attack. If they had not been there, the settler would probably have killed both his victims. When we see ‘Imad today, he shows us the scars and still unhealed head-wounds. Amal, his wife, has black-and-blue bruise marks the whole length of her body.
Continue readingDecember 17, 2025 Ras al-‘Ain: Text and most photographs by David Shulman
Afternoon shift. The sun is racing toward sunset. Naif comes to say hello and chat. He’s very shaken by what happened last night, just a few minutes’ walk from his home. A family that originally lived in the village had moved out to the ‘Auja townlet down the road; they couldn’t take the endless harassment and violence. Ironically, it was this same family that was attacked last night by some 20 masked, armed settlers. They did what settlers do best: turned the house upside down, smashed whatever was smashable, and viciously attacked the father, his wife, and several children. The father was covered in blood, with a gaping hole in his skull. He’s in hospital in Ramallah. The others are in hospital in Jericho.
Continue reading‘Abed’s Wedding, October 31, 2025. Texts: David Shulman and Margaret Olin
We sent this message, with no pictures, to our email list last month. Some of our correspondents thought that it should be posted on our blog, so we offer it here:
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Mourning is Foreclosed: Umm al-Khair, November 1, 2025. Text and photographs: Margaret Olin
*NB: Please read to the end. Or skip the rest and go directly to the end.
Hanady’s sitting room is a shrine to her late husband, 31-year-old Awdah Hathaleen, killed in cold blood in July by a settler who was punished with three days of house arrest. With only a small diamond-shaped design of sequins to break the unrelenting darkness of her black draped clothing, Hanady tells me that everything is gone for her: everything left with Awdah: her home life, her future, her dreams, the list goes on.
Note: While I cannot photograph the faces of the Bedouin women of Umm al-Khair, I am encouraged to photograph the children.
Continue readingAwdah Hathalin (1994-2025). August 11, 2025
David:
I’m sorry to say that these recent blog reports keep turning into obituaries, including the loss of the lovely village of Mu‘arrajat (but see below). This is life in the Occupation. People, Palestinians, are killed routinely, and with total impunity, by the settlers. As Awdah himself said in an interview two weeks before he was murdered, “The life here is not a life anymore.
Continue readingJuly 9, 2025 Aliya
I used to be afraid to cross the road and look at my house like a stranger.
Today, what I feared has happened.
Today, we are strangers — as if the house was never ours, as if we never drank tea there, as if we never played there.
We are strangers.
When you pass by, ask the house: Where are your residents? Where is your family? Where are your loved ones?
Our names are still there on the wall — all the names of my family.
I can never forget Ma’arajat. Every time I pass through that road, I will cry for it.
Life ended after Ma’arajat. —- Aliya

March 15, 2025, Zanuta. Text: David Shulman, most photos: Margaret Olin
You remember the story of Zanuta, the ancient village in the hills at the southernmost point of the West Bank. Israeli settlers from the illegal outpost nearby terrorized the people of Zanuta, and after years of this torment, the villagers fled their homes. They appealed to the High Court of Justice, which found in their favor in July 2024: they were to be allowed to return to their homes, and the police and army were to protect them there. The second clause was pure fantasy: you won’t find an honest policeman or army officer anywhere in the territories. They have fused with the violent settlers.

December, 2024, Masafer Yatta, February 2, Mu‘arrajat: texts Margaret Olin and David Shulman
1. Visits to Prisoners. Text and photographs by Margaret Olin
I began this post on Martin Luther King Day, 2025, a moment to think back on all we in the United States have achieved and the distance we still must go to realize King’s dream of racial equality. In 2025, this day of concern for justice and love also marked the inauguration of a president who opposes these values and many others we hold. Some, dreading this event, found ways of trying to forget about it. My way was to think back to my visit to Israel and Palestine this past December.
Continue readingDecember 8-9, 2024, Ras al-‘Ain, text: David Shulman; photographs: Margaret Olin

We (Peg, Yehonatan, the Haredi activist, and I) spent a quiet night in the madafeh at Ras al-‘Ain.
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