Now all the days are hard.


It happened fast, much faster than expected. Once the more isolated neighborhoods of Salameh and Abu Talib and Abu Musa were gone, their people expelled, the rest of the villagers also began to dismantle their homes and burn whatever they couldn’t take with them.
Continue readingI knew it was coming. I could feel it in my body, also in the air. For the last two or three weeks, settler harassment was constantly intensifying. You could see they were planning something big. They brought a settler called Micha Sudai down from the hill country to take charge of the ethnic cleansing of the Jordan Valley. Sudai has a reputation for being brutal and effective. Now he’s in the outpost just a few yards away from Ras al-‘Ain.
Continue readingWe 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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*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. 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 readingOctober 19, 2025
Where are the dogs of Ras al-‘Ain? There used to be lots of them. Together with the donkeys and the out-of-synch roosters, they performed the nocturnal symphony from midnight to dawn. They had a mission in life: they could warn you if settlers were invading the Palestinian houses and sheepfolds. But now most of them are gone. We found out why. The settlers from the outpost threw cut-off heads of chickens, doctored with poison, into the village; the dogs died, and apparently some of the jackals and the wolf also died. One lonely, mournful dog still haunts the madafeh, where we sleep. He seems glad to have company.
Continue readingRas al-‘Ain has been partly vacated. Muhammad’s compound is totally empty: no sheep, no shepherds, empty sheepfolds. We are told they went north to the hill country, near Tubas, where the temperatures are somewhat cooler. Many of the shepherds in the Jordan Valley have made this seasonal migration in the summer months. But this time it’s different. After the ceaseless harassment and attacks, the massive theft of sheep, the lack of water, the shameless complicity of the soldiers and police in the settlers’ crimes—or for that matter, their joint initiatives—Muhammad’s sons may have embarked on the first stage of leaving their homes forever.
Continue readingMichal Peleg is now gone. Another enormous loss, just two weeks after Muhammad died.
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Emptiness. Sorrow. The madafeh, indeed the whole village, feels empty without Muhammad. Just last week we were sitting with him, drinking tea, chatting,devouring the cake he had bought for us. We took for granted his gracious manner, his steadiness, his gentle nature. He seemed as solid as the desert rocks, as the rolling waves of the hills. He was killed earlier this week in a car crash near Nablus; his car collided with a huge truck, and he died instantly. This man who survived years of settler violence and harassment, the theft of his herd, the never-ending threats from soldiers and police, died in broad daylight on the road.
Continue readingJust past Hizma Junction, on our way to Ras al-‘Ain, we get the news. The Palestinians of Magha’ir a-Dir are taking apart their village and then they will be gone.
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