Chased Away by Israeli Settlers, These Palestinians Returned to a Village in Ruins

The ruins of a home in the West Bank village of Khirbet Zanuta, destroyed when residents were driven out by Israeli settlers, Tuesday, Aug. 27, 2024. (AP)
The ruins of a home in the West Bank village of Khirbet Zanuta, destroyed when residents were driven out by Israeli settlers, Tuesday, Aug. 27, 2024. (AP)
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Chased Away by Israeli Settlers, These Palestinians Returned to a Village in Ruins

The ruins of a home in the West Bank village of Khirbet Zanuta, destroyed when residents were driven out by Israeli settlers, Tuesday, Aug. 27, 2024. (AP)
The ruins of a home in the West Bank village of Khirbet Zanuta, destroyed when residents were driven out by Israeli settlers, Tuesday, Aug. 27, 2024. (AP)

An entire Palestinian community fled their tiny West Bank village last fall after repeated threats from Israeli settlers with a history of violence. Then, in a rare endorsement of Palestinian land rights, Israel’s highest court ruled this summer the displaced residents of Khirbet Zanuta were entitled to return under the protection of Israeli forces.

But their homecoming has been bittersweet. In the intervening months, nearly all the houses in the village, a health clinic and a school were destroyed — along with the community’s sense of security in the remote desert land where they have farmed and herded sheep for decades.

Roughly 40% of former residents have so far chosen not to return. The 150 or so that have come back are sleeping outside the ruins of their old homes. They say they are determined to rebuild – and to stay – even as settlers once again try to intimidate them into leaving and a court order prevents them from any new construction.

“There is joy, but there are some drawbacks,” said Fayez Suliman Tel, the head of the village council and one of the first to come back to see the ransacked village – roofs seemingly blown off buildings, walls defaced by graffiti.

“The situation is extremely miserable,” Tel said, “but despite that, we are steadfast and staying in our land, and God willing, this displacement will not be repeated.”

The Israeli military body in charge of civilian affairs in the West Bank said in a statement to The Associated Press it had not received any claims of Israeli vandalism of the village, and that it was taking measures to “ensure security and public order” during the villagers’ return.

“The Palestinians erected a number of structural components illegally at the place, and in that regard enforcement proceedings were undertaken in accordance with law,” the statement said.

The villagers of Khirbet Zanuta had long faced harassment and violence from settlers. But after the Oct. 7 attack on Israel by Hamas that launched the war in Gaza, they said they received explicit death threats from Israelis living in an unauthorized outpost up the hill called Meitarim Farm. The outpost is run by Yinon Levi, who has been sanctioned by the US, UK, EU and Canada for menacing his Palestinian neighbors.

The villagers say they reported the threats and attacks to Israeli police, but said they got little help. Fearing for their lives, at the end of October, they packed up whatever they could carry and left.

Though settler violence had been rising even before the war under the far-right government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, it has been turbocharged ever since Oct. 7. More than 1,500 Palestinians have been displaced by settler violence since then, according to the United Nations, and very few have returned home.

Khirbet Zanuta stands as a rare example. It is unclear if any other displaced community has been granted a court's permission to return since the start of the war.

Even though residents have legal protection Israel's highest court, they still have to contend with Levi and other young men from the Meitarim Farm outpost trying to intimidate them.

Shepherd Fayez Fares Al Samareh, 57, said he returned to Khirbet Zanuta two weeks ago to find that his house had been bulldozed by settlers. The men of his family have joined him in bringing their flocks back home, he said, but conditions in the village are grave.

“The children have not returned and the women as well. Where will they stay? Under the sun?” he said.

Settler surveillance continues: Al Samareh said that every Friday and Saturday, settlers arrive to the village, photographing residents.

Videos taken by human rights activists and obtained by The Associated Press show settlers roaming around Khirbet Zanuta last month, taking pictures of residents as Israeli police look on.

By displacing small villages, rights groups say West Bank settlers like Levi are able to accumulate vast swaths of land, reshaping the map of the occupied territory that Palestinians hope to include in their homeland as part of any two-state solution.

The plight of Khirbet Zanuta is also an example of the limited effectiveness of international sanctions as a means of reducing settler violence in the West Bank. The US recently targeted Hashomer Yosh, a government-funded group that sends volunteers to work on West Bank farms, both legal and illegal, with sanctions. Hashomer Yosh sent volunteers to Levi’s outpost, a Nov. 13 Facebook post said.

“After all 250 Palestinian residents of Khirbet Zanuta were forced to leave, Hashomer Yosh volunteers fenced off the village to prevent the residents from returning,” a US State Department spokesman, Matthew Miller, said last week.

Neither Hashomer Yosh nor Levi responded to a request for comment on intrusions into the village since residents returned. But Levi claimed in a June interview with AP that the land was his, and admitted to taking part in clearing it of Palestinians, though he denied doing so violently.

“Little by little, you feel when you drive on the roads that everyone is closing in on you,” he said at the time. “They’re building everywhere, wherever they want. So you want to do something about it.”

The legal rights guaranteed to Khirbet Zanuta's residents only go so far. Under the terms of the court ruling that allowed them to return, they are forbidden from building new structures across the roughly 1 square kilometer village. The land, the court ruled, is part of an archaeological zone, so any new structures are at risk of demolition.

Distraught but not deterred, the villagers are repairing badly damaged homes, the health clinic and the EU-funded school — by whom, they do not know for sure.

“We will renovate these buildings so that they are qualified to receive students before winter sets in,” Khaled Doudin, the governor of the Hebron region that includes Khirbet Zanuta, said as he stood in the bulldozed school.

“And after that we will continue to rehabilitate it,” he said, “so that we do not give the occupation the opportunity to demolish it again.”



Young Palestinian Whose Coverage of Gaza’s Destruction Went Viral Arrives in Lebanon to Pursue Master’s Degree

Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
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Young Palestinian Whose Coverage of Gaza’s Destruction Went Viral Arrives in Lebanon to Pursue Master’s Degree

Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)

A young Palestinian journalist whose coverage of the widespread destruction and humanitarian crisis in the Gaza Strip went viral now watches the war from afar in Lebanon.

Twenty-two-year-old Plestia Alaqad was just over a year out of university with a journalism degree when she found herself in the middle of a war zone. She donned a blue press helmet and vest to interview families in refugee camps and hospitals, posting the videos to Instagram.

"I can’t just look at what’s happening without doing anything," she told The Associated Press in an interview Tuesday in Beirut.

From Gaza City where she lived, Alaqad was among a handful of young journalists and media workers sharing what they saw on social media, with outside journalists unable to access the Palestinian enclave. She now has over 4.5 million followers on Instagram.

Alaqad landed in Lebanon last month to pursue a master’s degree in media studies at the American University of Beirut after being awarded a scholarship named after iconic Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh who was killed in 2022 while reporting on an Israeli military raid in the occupied West Bank.

Today she spends her days on the tranquil tree-lined AUB campus or in the cafes of Beirut's Hamra Street, but her mind remains in Gaza.

"You’re a journalist and a Palestinian human witnessing it," Alaqad told the AP, sitting in the patio of one of those cafes, wearing a black and white traditional keffiyeh scarf. Balancing those two roles "was the difficult part," she said.

She had already lived through three wars in Gaza by the time she graduated university, but the war that began on Oct. 7 was on a different scale.

The Israeli aerial bombardment and ground offensive triggered by the deadly Hamas-led attack on southern Israel - which killed some 1,200 people and took another 250 hostage - has killed over 40,000 Palestinians in Gaza, according to the Health Ministry. The war has caused vast destruction across the territory, with entire neighborhoods wiped out and critical infrastructure heavily damaged.

"It used to break my heart seeing kids standing in lines for hours just to buy bread or to fill tanks with water," Alaqad said. "Instead of those kids being at a school, they’re standing in line to do these chores."

By covering the impact of the humanitarian crisis as a result of Israel's blockade of Gaza and aid agencies' struggles to reach the civilian population, she hoped that it would counter what she saw as the "dehumanization" of Palestinians in the wider media and show that they are more than "just numbers."

"I used to connect with the people, and get to know them on a deeper level so people can remember their names, their smiles, and who they are," Alaqad said.

Reporting while tending to her own and her family’s well-being and safety was often complicated.

Electricity and telecom cuts at times made charging equipment and uploading material a challenge. Sometimes she would have to put work on hold to secure basic items, including food.

"I would think ‘what a downgrade’ — why am I spending three hours of my day just to search for eggs?" she said.

During almost two months covering the war, Alaqad said she was displaced several times, moving between houses and hospital in Gaza City before heading south to stay with relatives in Khan Younis.

One night, her mother told her that her uncle in Australia had secured them temporary visas to evacuate, and that the family was put on a list to leave through the Rafah border crossing with Egypt in several hours.

Alaqad said she was reluctant to leave, but felt that continuing to cover the war would be an eventual death sentence, and so she left for Australia in late November.

The United Nations and human rights organizations have been alarmed by the large number of journalists killed in Gaza since Oct. 7. Committee to Protect Journalists says it has confirmed that least 111 Palestinian journalists and media workers in Gaza have been killed.

In March, three dozen leaders at news organizations around the world, including the AP, signed a letter expressing solidarity with journalists in the tiny enclave, calling for their safety and freedom to report there.

"You either get forcefully displaced out of your country, or eventually you’d get targeted and killed," Alaqad said. "I felt at one point that we will all stay in Gaza and just get killed and the story will never go out to the world."

Since she left, more of Gaza has been levelled to the ground in Israeli military operations. The vast majority of Gaza's population of 2.3 million people have been displaced and no longer have access to the Rafah crossing. Large-scale polio vaccinations began Sunday in response to an outbreak of the rare disease as humanitarian organizations warn that lack of aid and worsening living conditions pose major public health risks.

Efforts for a ceasefire and the release of Israeli hostages mediated by Qatar, Egypt, and the United States remain unsuccessful.

Alaqad said witnessing the destruction of schools and universities in Gaza has given even more importance to her in furthering her education. She hopes to return to report on Gaza's reconstruction once a ceasefire agreement is reached and on the Palestinians' ongoing advocacy for self-determination.

"You can leave Gaza, but I don’t think Gaza can ever leave you," she said.