West Bank: Trying to live an ordinary life

The jewish settlement looks onto Hashem's home in the centre of Hebron in the West Bank. [Laura Storr]

We are standing in solidarity with people such as Nasreen and Hashem in the West Bank, whose family has suffered more than 23 years of abuse and intimidation

At 1am, Nasreen was woken abruptly by banging at the front door. Grabbing a robe from the chair in her room, she walked across the cold tiled hallway.

Twenty armed soldiers were waiting outside. “They were very aggressive,” Nasreen recalls, pouring tea into a small glass cup. “They demanded that we go outside. I said the children were sleeping but they insisted we wake them.”

We had to wait in the cold while they searched the house. They rummaged through our clothes, took all the food out of the fridge and threw it on the floor

“We had to wait in the cold while they searched the house. They rummaged through our clothes, took all the food out of the fridge and threw it on the floor.”

Tired and traumatised

Nasreen and her husband Hashem live in the centre of Hebron in the occupied Palestinian territories with their three young children. Their area, Tel Rumeida, is under Israeli control and every month soldiers come - often in the middle of the night - demanding to search the house.

Israel first occupied the West Bank in 1967 when it also took control of Gaza, East Jerusalem and the Golan Heights. Hebron was the first town Jewish settlers moved into. For most moving back to their roots was a religious duty.

Now, Jewish settlements - small towns and villages - are home to more than 450,000 people throughout West Bank and East Jerusalem. The settlements are illegal under international law, but Israel disputes this.

As attempts at peace have continued to break down over the years, both the Israelis and Palestinians have suffered ongoing violence.

The centre of Hebron is under Israeli control and a large number of troops have been deployed to protect the 7,000-strong Jewish community, particularly the 500 living in the old city, which includes Tel Rumeida.

In his dimly-lit living room, Hashem, 46, tells me how Tel Rumeida has been home all his life. “There’s been a settlement here since 1986,“ he says. Behind partially-drawn curtains, his windows are barred with metal grids.

“The first day the settlers threw stones at us so our elders went to talk to them. We said we accepted them as neighbours and asked - do you accept us? They said no and told us to leave.”

I follow Hashem into his garden so he can point out the Jewish settlement further up the hill. Looking up, I see a row of small beige cubed houses that look barely permanent, but loom over his home.

“The settlers used to throw garbage and empty bottles,” he says, pointing at old tins, glass and rubbish strewn about his garden. A rusting washing machine sits in the middle.

“Once I was out here and that old washing machine came tumbling down the hill,” he says. “I ducked just in time.”

After 23 years of abuse and intimidation, Hashem’s family are tired and traumatised. “During one of the curfews we decided to open the school,” he explains, as his 11-year-old daughter, Raghad, sits beside him.

“But when the children walked to school, young settlers threw eggs and stones and shouted awful words. The kids were frightened - it wasn’t safe.”

Thankfully Hashem found support from our partner the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI).

Standing in solidarity

There haven’t been any attacks on the children since we’ve been accompanying them to school and the families we visit are attacked less often.

EAPPI trains volunteers to live and work in East Jerusalem and the West Bank and stand in solidarity with both Palestinians and Israelis. The volunteers report on human rights abuses, provide a protective presence for those being intimidated, and ensure voices on both sides are heard.

One volunteer is Shari Brown, 43, originally from Birmingham, who visits Hashem and also walks to and from school every day with Raghad and other children. She talks passionately about the huge difference between what she had heard about the region back in the UK, and the reality of what she found.

“When you come here you see how people are struggling, but our presence does make a difference,” she says. “There haven’t been any attacks on the children since we’ve been accompanying them to school and the families we visit are attacked less often.

“Being with people is what the programme is all about. For me this is putting my faith into action, it’s all part of being a Christian.”

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