The Palestinian village of Ras Ein al-Auja lies in ruins, its residents forced to flee due to relentless violence and intimidation by Israeli settlers. The once-thriving community has been ravaged, with most families burning their furniture before leaving, not wanting the settlers to claim it as their own.
For 27 months, Ras Ein al-Auja was subjected to a barrage of attacks, restrictions, and thefts. Settlers have built fences and engaged in intimidation and violence, forcing Palestinians to buy expensive fodder for their flocks instead. The community's basic resources – water, electricity, and access to the land – have been systematically drained away.
The exodus of Ras Ein al-Auja is a tragic consequence of Israel's systematic erasure of Palestinian communities. According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, more than 1,800 settler attacks were documented in 2025, resulting in casualties or property damage in about 280 communities across the West Bank.
The situation has been exacerbated by the construction of "shepherding outposts" – a new phenomenon that mimics the Bedouins' way of life but with settlers' own grazing flocks. These outposts are often supported by armed Israeli settlers and have led to the displacement of hundreds of Palestinians, including children and families.
As the villagers were forced to flee, their centuries-old traditions as Bedouins were coming to an end. The children who remained are rudderless and afraid at night, fearful of settler attacks and violence.
A couple of musicians came to provide some relief from the traumatic separation and displacement by performing traditional Palestinian folk songs for a group of children huddled in plastic chairs.
The performance offered a fleeting moment of joy, but for many, including Naif Ghawanmeh, the situation was bleak. "Even if you sing for me until tomorrow, I won’t be happy," he said over a fire that burned whatever supplies they didn't want to leave for the settlers to take. His words reflected the deep-seated exhaustion and desperation that characterized the lives of those displaced by settler violence.
The case of Ras Ein al-Auja serves as a stark reminder of the dire consequences of Israel's occupation policies in the West Bank. The relentless violence, intimidation, and displacement have left countless Palestinians feeling lost, scared, and disconnected from their land and community.
As Kai Jack, a Norwegian solidarity activist and professional contrabass player, put it: "These songs are for the children." However, for many like Naif Ghawanmeh, the music was little comfort. The question on everyone's lips remained: what will happen to these communities next?
For 27 months, Ras Ein al-Auja was subjected to a barrage of attacks, restrictions, and thefts. Settlers have built fences and engaged in intimidation and violence, forcing Palestinians to buy expensive fodder for their flocks instead. The community's basic resources – water, electricity, and access to the land – have been systematically drained away.
The exodus of Ras Ein al-Auja is a tragic consequence of Israel's systematic erasure of Palestinian communities. According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, more than 1,800 settler attacks were documented in 2025, resulting in casualties or property damage in about 280 communities across the West Bank.
The situation has been exacerbated by the construction of "shepherding outposts" – a new phenomenon that mimics the Bedouins' way of life but with settlers' own grazing flocks. These outposts are often supported by armed Israeli settlers and have led to the displacement of hundreds of Palestinians, including children and families.
As the villagers were forced to flee, their centuries-old traditions as Bedouins were coming to an end. The children who remained are rudderless and afraid at night, fearful of settler attacks and violence.
A couple of musicians came to provide some relief from the traumatic separation and displacement by performing traditional Palestinian folk songs for a group of children huddled in plastic chairs.
The performance offered a fleeting moment of joy, but for many, including Naif Ghawanmeh, the situation was bleak. "Even if you sing for me until tomorrow, I won’t be happy," he said over a fire that burned whatever supplies they didn't want to leave for the settlers to take. His words reflected the deep-seated exhaustion and desperation that characterized the lives of those displaced by settler violence.
The case of Ras Ein al-Auja serves as a stark reminder of the dire consequences of Israel's occupation policies in the West Bank. The relentless violence, intimidation, and displacement have left countless Palestinians feeling lost, scared, and disconnected from their land and community.
As Kai Jack, a Norwegian solidarity activist and professional contrabass player, put it: "These songs are for the children." However, for many like Naif Ghawanmeh, the music was little comfort. The question on everyone's lips remained: what will happen to these communities next?