Outside the window of the rectangular corrugated tin shig (traditionally a tent used for hospitality, which in many places has been replaced by a structure), a wind heavy with desert heat blows slightly and in the not-too-far distance, a young camel of the same color stands motionless and almost imperceptible in the tiny unrecognized Bedouin village of al-Bat.
Here the al-Qaran family – now totaling some 20 families – has lived their traditional life since 1952.
Sofas and armchairs line one side of the shig – used to receive guests – and on the other side red, orange, black, and blue striped rugs and pillows bring color to the space.
Saed, one of the al-Qaran brothers, offers coffee from a long-handled copper finjan, his movements slow and measured, his dark eyes unable to disguise the pain he feels. Even in his state of mourning, the Bedouin ritual of hospitality is paramount.
Just two weeks ago, on the first day of the war, he and his brothers were sitting in a similar shig with their children, on this little hilltop 4.5 km. north of the Bedouin town of Kuseife, some 65 km. from Gaza, when suddenly they heard a missile fly overhead and land in their animal pens. One of the brothers went out to check on the penned animals, while another went to check on the camel. Saed was just coming into the shig with the coffee finjan in his hand when a second missile landed in front of him, on the tin shig where the children were sitting. The flimsy shig was flattened as if it were literally a tin-can, burying the five boys underneath the rubble.
It took the brothers 15 minutes to dig them out with their bare hands – they didn’t have any tools to use – and another 20 minutes to get them to Soroka Medical Center in Beersheba. Four of the boys – brothers Malek al-Qaran, 14, and Jawad al-Qaran, 15, and cousins Amin Akal al-Qaran, 16, and Mohammad D’ib al-Qaran, 12 – were already dead by the time they got there. Another cousin, Taleb Mahmoud al-Qaran, 35, was seriously wounded but survived and is being treated in a hospital in the center of the country.
Ibrahim, the father of two of the boys killed in the missile attack, walks in silently, his head wrapped loosely with a scarf. There is nothing to say, and the two men sit silently as one, and then another cousin comes to sit on the rugs, and Saed serves them coffee.
The corrugated tin panels that used to make up the shig where the boys died lie flat in a pile next to a new shig which has been quickly built to replace it.
Here, in this isolated place in the desert, their little village is one of some 35 unrecognized Bedouin villages dotting the Negev desert. Despite numerous requests to the government from the residents, they have no air raid sirens, nor are they allowed to build a safe room or communal bomb shelter, so the boys had no chance.
“We have everything we need here,” Saed, who served in the IDF, said. “We just need bomb shelters.”
So far, no temporary bomb shelters have been set up for the unrecognized villages, although at the entrance of the village the Islamic Movement brought two large cement pipes and placed cement slabs on either side – as if that would protect anyone. According to Saed, the Dead Sea Works potash plant put together a “shelter” with huge industrialized-size bags of dirt but no roof covering. Neither shelter affords protection worth the effort of trying to reach it during a rocket attack.
Some 400,000 Bedouin live in Israel in an area ranging from Beersheba to Arad. This includes 100,000 in the 35 unrecognized villages, such as al-Bat, which have no electricity, running water, paved roads, or school infrastructure; and 300,000 in seven established towns. Thus the Negev Bedouin represent the most vulnerable socioeconomic group in Israel.
According to the Association for Civil Rights in Israel, at one point there were 46 unrecognized Bedouin villages. Following the state’s recognition of 11 of them, 35 villages in the Negev still remain unrecognized, with some still in the same locations since before the creation of the State of Israel, and others in their current locations following Israel’s transfer of the residents there during the period of military rule.
Since the Hamas terrorist attack on October 7, at least 26 Bedouin citizens of Israel have been killed – 19 by Hamas terrorists in the kibbutzim where they were working early on that Saturday morning, and seven by Hamas missiles. Osama Abu Asa, a Bedouin guard at the Supernova concert, was killed as he attempted to protect some of the young people hiding in a bomb shelter, believing that Hamas would not kill him because he was a Muslim. Abed Alrahman Ataf Alzeadna, 26, from Rahat, was among those killed by Hamas terrorists on Zikim Beach; and four of his relatives, who were with him, are still missing
Taken hostage
Six Bedouin who were working in the Holit dairy were kidnapped, including four members of the Ziadna family: father Yosef, 53; sons Hamza, 22, and Belal, 19; and daughter Aisha, 17.
In addition, said Jamal Al-Kirnawi, a Bedouin social worker and director of New Dawn – a Rahat-based Bedouin-Jewish coexistence NGO that provides programming for at-risk Bedouin youth – several Bedouin soldiers have been taken hostage, although how many has not been made official.
If the attack had taken place on Sunday, there would have been many more Bedouin victims, as many are agriculture workers at the kibbutzim, he added.
“Bedouins are really suffering,” Al-Kirnawi, 44, said.
“We were all shocked by what happened on October 7. No one knew what was going on. We thought it was rocket attacks like we are used to, and that soon there would be an army response. We were not expecting anything like this. The society has been in shock – especially the Bedouin who worked in the kibbutzim.
“We feel very sorry for this loss and pain. The rockets and Hamas did not differentiate between Jews and Bedouin.”
He lost 20 close Jewish friends from the kibbutzim in the terrorist attack and said he is still living in mourning, as he has spent the weeks since the attack going from funeral to funeral and shiva to shiva.
“If on a daily basis we as Bedouins live in a complex reality, imagine the reality of uncertain chaos that we are living in now,” he said.
“The war makes it much worse in the complexity of the society – how to handle this tragic crisis. No one is able to understand this biggest tragedy that has happened. We feel the suffering of the families, and we can’t contain all the stories of loss. We are not in a normal situation and are processing this loss.”
The economy of Bedouin towns has shut down since October 7, and the many Bedouins who worked in the kibbutzim have lost their employment. But for Al-Kirnawi, the most difficult thing is that as a traditional society, many people in his community are suffering from anxiety and trauma; but, in addition to municipal social welfare services being shut down and the government in general not functioning, the whole concept of counseling is still not widely accepted in Bedouin society, especially in the more traditional sectors.
“People are suffering, whether they speak about it or not,” he said. “But in general, Bedouin society takes what is happening on the outside and keeps it inside, without interpreting how that affects them [on the inside].”
He added: “The concept of therapy is very hard, and usually people come to therapy when they are overwhelmed. So we need to be proactive before people get so overwhelmed that they need major intervention.”
Trauma training for Bedouin mental health workers
New Dawn has begun special trauma training for educators and mental health workers within the Bedouin community, who pay several visits to the families directly affected by the war reaching out with mental health tools to help them cope with the loss, trauma, and anxiety they are feeling, he said.
Initially, they have trained seven men and women who have gone to attend to the most vulnerable in five villages, and there are plans for further training sessions.
“We can’t wait for [government offices]. We, as a civil society, are much more powerful [than the government],” he said.
Manar Abu Gosh, 25, a resident of Rahat and social worker and volunteer at New Dawn who has gone through the training, has begun visiting residents of the unrecognized villages. The children are scared, and many of the parents are in shock and not able to function normally, she said. A missile fell near one of the villages while she was there, she noted.
“We heard the sound of the missile, but we didn’t know where to run. The children were terrified,” she said. “They are in a panic.”
The men, who worked largely in agriculture, are now unemployed, and the children can’t participate in the remote video classes because they have no Internet services nor tablets, Abu Gosh said.
“They are, after all, citizens who want to live in peace and quiet,” she said.
“The men do not want to talk about how they are feeling, but the women and children come and speak about their worries and fears. Honestly, I came home and cried. It was the first time I was ever in an unrecognized village. I was shocked by what is happening to them. They are in a terrible situation. But I will continue to go to speak with them. It is not easy for any of us.”
President Isaac Herzog visited the Bedouin Situation Room in Rahat on October 26, where Jewish and Arab Israelis are working together to provide care packages for the most needy of the area’s residents, and met with community leaders and families of the missing and murdered of the community, including representatives of the Ziadna family.
“We will continue to live together, and it is important for me to tell the entire Arab society in Israel how much I appreciate the responsibility shown across the community in these difficult days,” he told them on October 26.
“We deeply share in their grief. I came to offer my sympathies to the families, and we will meet with them again. We came to offer strength to the local authorities and to hear what is important to them. We came to tell everyone: We will continue to live together and continue to live in peace.
“What we saw on October 7 does not represent Islam. Islam is a religion of respect, sensitivity, brotherhood, and love.”
Quiet vigil for four family members
A few days before the president’s visit, in the Ziadna neighborhood of Rahat – a conglomeration of tin huts and small gardens outside of Rahat – the uncles, brothers, and nephews of Yosef Ziadna, kidnapped along with his three children, sit on white plastic chairs in a large circle in a vigil outside a home. The young men all sport beards and are powerfully built, but in their eyes are broken spirits, waiting to hear about their loved ones. At the time of the visit, all four – including daughter Aisha, who wears the traditional Muslim hijab – were presumed to be held hostage in Gaza.
Yosef’s brother Salem had also been at the Holit dairy on October 7 with his four young children as every Saturday, taking the youngsters on a “fun day” to see the cows. He describes how for 12 harrowing hours he evaded the terrorists by hiding and darting through the dairy with his four terrified children, carrying the two the littlest ones in his arms.
“I heard shooting all the time. My children were so scared, they kept very quiet. Twice they captured us but I was able to escape, but sadly Yosef and his children were captured,” he said. Though an uncle is hesitant about speaking to the press, Salem said he wants the story of his escape to be published in as many media outlets as possible, in the rare possibility that perhaps Yosef or his children will see it and then know that he and his children are safe.
“He is probably worried about us, too. I want to let him know that we are safe and got out.”
Bedouin rescuers save 70 at Supernova
On that Black Saturday morning, as revelers from the Supernova dance festival were frantically trying to escape from the onslaught of the Hamas attack, Hamed Alkarnawi and his family members Rafi, Ismail, and Dahish – all of Rahat – rushed to the scene with their truck when their cousin Hisham, who worked in the dining room of Kibbutz Be’eri, called them to tell them he and kibbutz member Aya Meidan – who had gone out for a bike ride in the early morning – were surrounded by Hamas terrorists.
The rescuers have declined media interviews, but in a powerful video produced by Have You Seen the Horizon Lately? – an initiative promoting Jewish-Arab partnership – Meidan and the Alkarnawis recounted the daring rescue they undertook. Under fire, they first rescued some 40 young people from the Supernova party whom they encountered on their way to Be’eri hiding from the Hamas terrorists, and then made their way to rescue Hisham and Aya.
Minivan driver Yosef El Zaidneh, 47, also of the unrecognized neighborhood of Ziadna, who risked his life to save people from the party, has become an unlikely media hero after one of the people he rescued praised him and posted his phone number on social media to bring him more costumers.
El Zaidneh described himself as a “regular person,” who never served in the army, just someone who goes out every morning to work and comes home in the evening to his wife and children.
That Saturday at 1 a.m., he took a regular customer and eight friends from Omer to the Supernova dance party near Kibbutz Re’im with instructions to return to pick them up later, at 1 p.m. But shortly after 6 a.m., his phone began to ring incessantly and when his customer, Amit, told him there was a red alert of missiles, he told him he would be there in 20 minutes. But as he approached the junction to Kibbutz Sa’ad, he saw cars coming toward him and people motioning him to go back.
“It is the first time in my life I have been afraid,” he said, but he continued through the gunfire and was able to rescue 30 young Israelis as he packed twice the number of passengers allowed into his minivan. He knew the terrain near the kibbutz well and made his way through the fields to safety, forging a way for other cars to follow him.
“There was not one soldier there; I saw wounded police. I knew if we went on the road to Re’im, they would kill us.”
When they eventually reached a roadblock manned by Israeli police, they were directed to Kibbutz Tze’elim. Sadly, his cousin, Abed al-Rahman Alnasarah, 50, also a minivan driver, was killed by the terrorists as he attempted to reach the party to rescue Israelis there.
Since that morning El Zaidneh, the father of seven children, has not been able to sleep, and the horrific scenes of death and destruction keep replaying in his head.
He spends the nights chain smoking and drinking coffee, sitting outside on the swing in his fenced-in yard in front of his corrugated tin hut, praying for the morning to come. He saw things people should never have to see, he said. He has received threatening phone calls originating in Gaza from people claiming to be from Hamas who say they will find him because he rescued Israelis. He has reported the calls to the police, and his phone is under surveillance for any more threatening calls that come in, he said. He has been going to daily therapy sessions to help deal with the trauma.
El Zaidneh has also received many phone calls from people who want to donate money to him or give him presents, he said, but he is not interested in any of that and often does not even answer his phone anymore unless he recognizes the number. He did not do what he did for any sort of recognition, he said.
“I had the chance to turn around. But above all, I am a human being, and I am an Israeli and I knew there were Israeli citizens [in danger]. If I can help, why not? That is how our parents raised us. To do good if we can,” he said. “I hope after this, the mayor of Omer – who does not like us – and the State of Israel will appreciate the Bedouin and stop destroying our houses and see that we are a part of this country.
“We are not Hamas.
“I hope that the country will now think about us; help the Bedouin develop in education, in culture. Maybe we won’t be 100% equal, but at least 70% equal.”
Video of the Supernova rescue: x.com/Horizon_lately/status/1720905755371405633?t=KCzVUClfm7Y2_bsM2V13rA&s=08