Nur Shams, West Bank
CNN
—
Fatima Tawfeeq, 63, has lived through numerous Israeli military operations in the occupied West Bank. She witnessed Israel’s takeover of the Palestinian territory in 1967 and lived through Israel’s crackdown during the first and second intifadas, the fierce Palestinian uprisings against Israeli control.
But this is the first time she’s had to flee her home in Nur Shams. She says Israeli forces expelled her from it earlier this month and converted it into a military barracks.
“I’ve never seen this situation before,” she said, speaking to CNN from a wedding hall that has been converted into a makeshift shelter in the nearby town of Kafr al-Labad. “I’ve never seen it like this. Forcibly displacing us? Never. This is the first time.”
Tawfeeq and her family are among roughly 40,000 Palestinians who’ve been displaced from their homes since Israel launched an expanded military campaign in the West Bank in late January, almost immediately after the Gaza ceasefire began.
The Israeli military says it is targeting Palestinian militant groups who have mounted attacks on Israeli soldiers and civilians, but Palestinians and human rights groups say the expanded assault is increasingly indiscriminate – killing civilians and destroying civilian infrastructure in a manner that is consistent with collective punishment.
Israel’s Defense Minister Israel Katz has said the current military operation could last until the end of the year and that displaced civilians will not be allowed to return to their homes until the operation is complete.
“I have instructed the IDF to prepare for a prolonged stay in the camps that have been cleared for the coming year – and not to allow residents to return and terrorism to grow again,” Katz said on Sunday.
Tawfeeq, her husband and several of her grandchildren are living alongside other families, among piled up bedrolls and blankets that have been strung up to create family “rooms.” There is no central heating, and the inside of the concrete building they share feels even colder than outside.
Her 11-year-old grandson Mahmoud passes the time by jumping from a stage in the hall next to their makeshift quarters onto the bedrolls below.
But he misses home and recalled the moment Israeli forces ordered his family and their neighbors to leave their homes at around 2:30 a.m. earlier this month.
“The Israeli military came and started calling on the loudspeakers,” he said. “So everyone started to gather their belongings and started leaving.”
Mahmoud’s mother rushed him out of the house.
“I didn’t have time to pack anything,” he said. “I didn’t take anything with me. I left with the clothes I am wearing today.”
As Mahmoud recounts the events of that night, his 9-year-old sister Rou’ya begins to tear up. Amid the trauma of their displacement, their mother has had to leave them to take their younger brother to the hospital.
“I want mama,” Rou’ya says, crying.
Rou’ya explains that she was terrified of the military. She had never seen Israeli soldiers up close before and feared that the soldiers would take their home and give it to Israeli settlers.
Their grandmother, forced from her own home, worries what a year-long operation will mean for her and her family, becoming emotional as she thinks of being separated from her other grandchildren.
“Eventually, they will hold wedding parties and we will need to leave. Where are we supposed to go?” Tawfeeq asked. “An entire year is difficult.”
The prospect of prolonged displacement is also straining the resources of communities like Kafr al-Labad that have taken in some of those forced from their homes.
“We are trying to provide for these needs with the support of local families and benefactors, but frankly, this issue is a significant burden and challenge,” Amin Barghoush, a municipal representative of Kafr al-Labad, said.
He said support from the Palestinian Authority, which partially controls the West Bank, has been minimal and his community’s goodwill is being stretched amid the prospect of a prolonged crisis.
“Tulkarem Governorate has become one of the most affected areas. We might have one of the highest refugee populations in the country,” he said. “What we are witnessing is comprehensive destruction, an economic blockade and the devastation of infrastructure in the refugee camps.”
The road into the Nur Shams camp, established to house Palestinian refugees in 1952, is now unrecognizable. The pavement has been dug up by the Israeli military’s D-9 bulldozers – mounds of asphalt and dirt piled up on the sides of roads, often pouring into shops and homes. Sewage seeps into the muddy streets.
Inside the camp, the destruction is even more stark. Some residential buildings have been demolished; a hole is punched into the side of a mosque; chunks of broken concrete now bare the inside of someone’s home to the outside world.
In sections of the camp – and the same can be said of Jenin and Tulkarem camps – the destruction is reminiscent of what the Israeli military has wrought on the Gaza Strip.
Indeed, Israel’s military operations in the West Bank are increasingly resembling those in Gaza. Drone strikes and airstrikes are now regularly carried out here where they were once a rarity. And for the first time in more than two decades, the Israeli military this week deployed tanks to the West Bank.
In Jenin camp, the Israeli military has conducted dozens of controlled explosions, destroying buildings where it says its troops located explosives and other “terrorist infrastructure.” It is a claim Jenin’s mayor Mohammad Jarrar disputes, saying many were residential buildings where dozens of families lived.
Israeli forces have killed 66 people in the West Bank since the start of the latest operation on January 21, according to figures from the Palestinian Ministry of Health, and local officials say the majority of those killed have been civilians.
The Israeli military says it is targeting militants and said Friday that it has killed “70 terrorists” since the beginning of the operation.
The overall impact of the Israeli operation on civilians, though, is indisputable.
Inside the chilly wedding hall, Rou’ya longs for the toys she would arrange in her room before reading them stories. Mahmoud says he craves the privacy of his own bedroom. They both want to go home.
“Even if they demolish our house, we will rebuild it,” Mahmoud said. “The camp is better. We have our family and our friends.”
