‘Ali Ka‘abneh, 41, a father of ten, described the expulsion of his extended family from the al-Mu’arrajat Center community through settler violence and the subsequent killing of his son Yusef by the military during a settler attack
I have 10 children, eight of them under the age of 18. I raise sheep. I was born and lived in the shepherding community of Badu al-Mu’arrajat Center, in Area C, and the land belongs to the town of a-Taybah, east of Ramallah. My grandfather had lived in the area since 1975. The community is located along the road leading to Jericho, and many families lived there, in several clusters. My cluster had 14 families, numbering about 85 to 90 people, at least 60 of them children. After 48 years of living there, we were forced to leave. The reason wasn’t just the repeated demolition orders we received from the Civil Administration. Over the years, we paid thousands of shekels to halt their execution.
After 48 years of living there, we were forced to leave. The reason wasn’t just the repeated demolition orders we received from the Civil Administration. [...] we were forced to leave our land following an escalation in settler attacks on our community.
On 12 October 2023, we were forced to leave our land in the area of Badu al-Mu’arrajat Center following an escalation in settler attacks on our community.
On 12 October 2023, we were forced to leave our land in the area of Badu al-Mu’arrajat Center following an escalation in settler attacks on our community. We had no choice but to leave to protect our families and our source of livelihood, the sheep. That day, all 14 families from our cluster moved to the northern area of the village of a-Lubban a-Sharqiyah, to a place called Wadi Yasuf, which is in Area B under the Oslo Accords. Some families bought plots there, put up residential tents and sheep pens on them and moved in that same day. Other families couldn’t afford to buy land, so they bought it in installments or rented it for a monthly fee.
The road to the place where we live now is rough and unpaved. Only about a month ago, after two years of trying, we got connected to electricity. This power line supplies electricity to all 14 families, so it’s not enough to meet the community’s electricity needs.
We also suffer from a severe water shortage. Although we’ve been trying for more than two years to connect to the water network, we still haven’t received a connection. Because of that, two families were forced to leave and look for a place that has water or is near a natural water source. Every family needs a water tank that costs 120 NIS ILS (~40 USD) every three days, which is a heavy expense for many families. Recently, after one of the residents of the village of a-Lubban a-Sharqiyah set up a poultry farm near our community, he agreed to let us use the farm’s water line to fill water for our needs.
Today, as I mentioned, about 60 children live in our community; about 25 of them go to school. Our children attend the schools in the village of a-Lubban a-Sharqiyah and have to walk there, a distance of at least two kilometers.
Making us leave the al-Mu’arrajat area wasn’t enough for the settlers. On 10 March 2026, they set up a shepherding outpost about two kilometers from our community, and since then, the harassment has started up again. They started using the area around the community as a route to and from the outpost. They came into the community before dawn, provoked us and tried to start up confrontations with us. They also prevented us from grazing the sheep in the area. Because of this, several young men from the community were forced to look for wage labor instead of making a living from shepherding. Later, on 25 March 2026, the settlers set up another outpost, only about 400 meters away, maybe even less, to the north of the community.
At around 3:30 A.M., dozens of settlers attacked our community. [...] They attacked my brother, and beat him severely, causing bruises all over his body. After he fled his tent, they set it on fire and torched our vehicles, which were parked inside the community, and the animal feed for the sheep. They sprayed racist graffiti on some of the tents.
On 6 April 2026, at around 3:30 A.M., dozens of settlers attacked our community. Because it was pitch dark, we didn’t notice them coming until they were right inside the community. They attacked my brother, who is 32, and beat him severely, causing bruises all over his body. After he fled his tent, they set it on fire and torched our vehicles, which were parked inside the community, and the animal feed for the sheep. They sprayed racist graffiti on some of the tents. During the attack, fire trucks and ambulances couldn’t reach the community because of the unpaved road leading to it. We didn’t have enough water to put out the fires the settlers set in the tents and the animal feed.
After the attack, about 10 families had to move their flocks of sheep to the areas of al-Mazra‘ah a-Sharqiyah and Jiljilya, east and north of Ramallah. Those who kept their sheep in the community sold some to reduce the flock size or sold the whole flock for fear that the settlers would steal it.
The attacks and harassment by the settlers forced us, the young men of the community, to organize guard shifts. We take turns guarding at night, every day of the week. Because of this, some young men have had to quit their jobs, and others have been fired for long absences from work. Since we guard at night, we have to sleep during the day, and those who don’t take sheep out to pasture can’t go to work.
In addition, during the day, we have to stay with the sheep near al-Mazra‘ah a-Sharqiyah, and go back to our families near a-Lubban a-Sharqiyah in the evening. This puts another strain on us. The costs of raising sheep today are also very high. Because of the settlers’ attacks on the shepherding communities and the lack of pastureland, we’re forced to buy animal feed for the sheep year-round, which increases expenses even more.
In addition to the costs of moving the sheep from place to place, the lack of pastureland impacts milk production. On top of all this, after I moved my flock from the al-Mu’arrajat area to this area, it came down with a disease called shipping fever (Pasteurellosis), and as a result, sheep died. It happened to other families who were forced to leave too.
We’re afraid the settlers will go back to attacking us and force us to leave again. We’re also very afraid that they’ll steal our sheep, which are our main source of livelihood.
Today, we’re afraid the settlers will go back to attacking us and force us to leave again. We’re also very afraid that they’ll steal our sheep, which are our main source of livelihood. More than anything, we worry about our families and our children. Leaving one place of residence and starting over somewhere else is very difficult. It’s also very hard nowadays to find an alternative place. In addition, such a move would require us to register the children again in new schools, transfer the sheep and transport all our belongings. We hope the situation stays as it is and does not get worse, so we don’t have to leave again.
On 13 May 2026, soldiers and Border Police officers who helped settlers steal a flock of sheep from ‘Ali Ka‘abneh’s brother in Jiljilya shot and killed ‘Ali’s son, Yusef. In a testimony he gave B’Tselem field researcher Mohammad Romaneh on 19 May 2026, ‘Ali Ka‘abneh described his son’s killing:
On Wednesday, 13 May 2026, I was where I keep the sheep in al-Mazra‘ah a-Sharqiyah as usual. I usually take the sheep out to graze between 6:00 and 6:30 A.M. That morning, my son Yusef and my nephew T. were with me. We sat in an open field, watching over the sheep. Shortly after we went out to graze, my brother Ahmad called and said that settlers were attacking the Bedouin clusters in Jiljilya and approaching the place where my brothers and relatives were with their sheep. He said he was trying to move some of the flock away, and I told him I was coming. We brought the sheep back to the pen, and I immediately got ready and drove off with my son and nephew.
When I reached the road between Sinjil and Jiljilya, at the western edge of Sinjil, there was a military vehicle there with soldiers next to it. One of the soldiers stopped me and told me to turn back and didn’t let me continue towards Jiljilya.
my brother called me and said that the settlers, escorted by soldiers, had stolen his sheep. I felt helpless. Immediately afterward, I saw the soldiers driving locals out of the area while the settlers led the sheep south, toward the main road.
I turned around and drove on an agricultural road that leads to a wadi north of where my brothers were with the sheep. I parked the car, and we continued on foot westwards, to reach my brother. On the way, we passed the first Bedouin cluster between Sinjil and Jiljilya. There was already an ambulance there, and I saw people who had been injured, apparently in a settler attack. I didn’t see the settlers there at that moment. We continued west towards ‘Ebwein, and when we reached the eastern edge of ‘Ebwein, I saw settlers and soldiers about 250 to 300 meters away from us. At that moment, my brother called me and said that the settlers, escorted by soldiers, had stolen his sheep. I felt helpless. Immediately afterward, I saw the soldiers driving locals out of the area while the settlers led the sheep south, toward the main road between Jiljilya and ‘Ebwein.
I walked south, towards the main road, but the army was marching in front of the settlers and also behind them, so we turned onto another road that goes between the houses inside Jiljilya, hoping to get ahead of them and try to get the sheep back. When we reached the end of the road, we could see the soldiers and settlers, but as soon as they noticed us, the soldiers started shooting live rounds at us intensively and also chased us.
I was busy trying to talk to the soldiers and explain that the sheep belonged to my brother, but the soldiers tied my hands behind my back with zip ties and detained me along with four other relatives. They beat us with their rifle butts and kicked us [...].
At that point, my son Yusef was a few meters behind me. When the shooting started, we ran between the houses, and I split off from the group and stayed behind the buildings to take cover from the gunfire. One of the soldiers came onto the same road, and I could hear young men shouting that someone was hurt. I was busy trying to talk to the soldiers and explain that the sheep belonged to my brother, but the soldiers tied my hands behind my back with zip ties and detained me along with four other relatives. They beat us with their rifle butts and kicked us and then led us to the main road and forced us to kneel next to a concrete wall.
We were kept like that for more than two hours. Every time my phone rang, the soldiers beat me. We were let go at around 1:15 P.M. Until that moment, I didn’t know that my son Yusef had been injured. After I was let go, I headed towards my brothers’ tents, and on the way, I called back the people who had tried to reach me. One of them said something about my son having been martyred, but took it back right away. I felt something was off. After about 15 minutes, one of my brothers called and told me that my son Yusef had been killed by the soldiers’ gunfire.
I felt something was off. [...] one of my brothers called and told me that my son Yusef had been killed by the soldiers’ gunfire. I went to the hospital in Salfit to say goodbye to him. I found out there that he was hit by a single bullet that entered his chest, near the heart, and exited through his back.
I went to the hospital in Salfit to say goodbye to him. I found out there that he was hit by a single bullet that entered his chest, near the heart, and exited through his back. My son, Yusef, was a quiet and dedicated person. He was the eldest of my sons, and I had planned to build him a house and marry him off within about two years. I was the last person to learn of his death, and I received the news while trying to comfort my brothers after the sheep theft. Within minutes, they were the ones trying to console me.
- The testimonies were given to B’Tselem field researcher Mohammad Romaneh on 6 and 19 May 2026