Greetings our friends all,
Bertolt Brecht had already said that “when crimes pile up, they become invisible. When suffering becomes unbearable, the screams are no longer heard.”
This was exactly the reason for our visit to Khalet al-Dabe two days after the Civil Administration and the Israeli army, two loyal arms of the Occupation, changed the appearance of this village completely – 7 houses were demolished, 3 caves severely damaged, solar panels broken and electricity cables cut so no light, water tanks smashed so no water – and then they left.
Demolished, collapsed, broken, smashed – even if I used more of the words describing ruin, I could not describe the sights and the heartache. They become lost in the general chaos of the Middle East and the entire world.
This is not the first time that occupation forces have raided this village. Jaber’s home, for instance, has been demolished five times, and he’s always rebuilt it. After the fifth demolition, and following notification by the Occupation Kingdom in autumn 2022 that Khalet al-Dabe is judged to die by demolition, he decided to go on living in his cave. Jaber had to enlarge the existing cave as twins were born and the family now counted seven. With the generous aid of British Shalom Shalam Trust – a generous and efficient British-Jewish organization – Jaber dug and designed the small added cave and said: “I am not moving from here anywhere. It doesn’t seem likely that caves will be demolished.” He even erected a modest tent in order to see daylight once in a while.
But on Monday, February 10, 2025, caves too were demolished. We sat with Jaber in his small added cave. Somehow the thugs did not demolish it. His old cave was smashed as far as the bulldozer could reach – the comely stairs that Jaber built with the nice rose pots I once brought him, the beautifully-designed-by-Jaber entryway, the door – everything was pulverized and collapsed into the cave from where Jaber’s wife and her two small twins were chased.
The three older children were in school at the nearby town this morning.Javer, too, was absent from the village at the time. No one knew of the demolition ahead of time.
I sit at Jaber’s side and can hardly stop my tears. Jaber looks at me and asks: “Why are you so sad?” Without waiting for my answer, he adds: “That’s what occupation is about.” “Yes, that’s true,” I answer, and see in his good eyes the pain that he tames into a life force. He hasn’t time for sadness now. He has been cleaning up the cave that collapsed for days now. After all, one must have a place to sleep, and in this small cave where we sat, sleep his parents-in-law whose cave was entirely destroyed. His brother’s cave, too, was destroyed and he and his family sleep with their old, dementia-stricken father whose poor house was not demolished this time.
After a short silence, I ask Jaber again, “So what will you do now?” “I am not moving from here. Even if Trump comes.” Jaber answers, up to date in all the political details of the Middle East and the world, and we both laugh…
as we laughed after a pogrom took place in this beautiful, quiet village a few months ago. Then it was the settlers. One time, it’s settlers, Another time, the Israeli army. Same thing. Everyone’s heart is sealed. All messengers of the Occupier.
I entered Jaber’s old cave which he had managed to clean up so that the kitchen could somehow be used and the children put to sleep. Jaber’s wife made coffee. Tiham and Hamada, the small twins, played with cars, and Rian – his eldest – sat and looked at them and at me alternately. I suggest we play Remi Cube which I had brought them a year ago. “It’s under the tent ruins,” he said, with an embarrassed smile, almost apologetic. When I asked Tiham what happened to his car that was missing its front wheels, he answered: “Josh hadam.” Josh is the distorted version of jesh meaning “army.” Hadam in Arabic means “demolish.” Tiham and Hamada are just beginning to speak. How painful that army and demolition are included in the first list of words they know.
Out of the cave and into the destroyed village landscape, I saw Ehud playing football with Jaber’s three older sons (6-, 9- and 12-years-old) on a small lawn in their beautiful tree grove that the occupier’s arm has not smashed…
How much force simplicity gives these people. The simplicity of those whose hearts are pure and souls seek goodness. People who do not win and do not lose in the fascist game of who’s better, simply because they refuse to take part in it. People who know that the occupier dispossesses them of their land, expels them from home and life like removing some bit of bothersome dust.
Yet they, with noble insistence, refuse to give up their right to be free.
Erella
On behalf of The Villages Group
