A meeting in No Man's Land

Deep between the hills at the southern end of Mount Hebron, scattered across desolate slopes, several Bedouin families traditionally live in caves and improvised shacks, in deplorable living conditions, although the smiles of the locals make one reevaluate the concept of happiness. Recognized by no authority, they strive to get by, caught between random harassment of Israeli military rule and constant pressure and incitement of Palestinian activists. I was invited to a meetup of Israeli left-wing activists, Jewish settlers from neighboring communities, and Bedouins from the extended family, all with children. I found adults and children alike mixed and mingled chatting, playing, singing together happily, with no regard to nationality, race, or political persuasion. In one shack a Yoga class was arranged while in one of the caves, in an improvised kitchen a Khanafeh workshop took place. I found people willing to seek a modus vivendi in spite of the evident difficulties. People who'd rather talk than confront and fight, who defy clichés of eternal conflict. People that are saying "I belong to this land" and not "This land belongs to me". It was for me an educational experience