Three brothers in the West Bank, kept apart by Israel’s war

This is the tale of three brothers; Ayman, Yamen and Wajid. Yamen and I (Ayman, the author of this piece) are one year apart, 37 (him) and 38 (me), while Wajid is the “baby” at 35. All three of us work between the cities of Nablus and Ramallah and our home village, al-Lubban Ash-Sharqiya, located halfway between the two cities.

Now, my two brothers and I are each stuck in one of these three places with no way of reaching each other. Since October 7, the West Bank has been subjected to unprecedented military measures by Israeli forces. The only time such stringent measures have been seen before was perhaps during the first days of June 1967, the start of the Israeli occupation.

Stringent curfews and clampdown measures implemented by armed settlers and Israeli forces on all cities, towns and camps in the West Bank have completely cut areas off from each other. Israeli forces have erected new military checkpoints and closed entrances and roads using iron gates and earth mounds. Meanwhile, Israeli settlers have ramped up harassment and attacks on Palestinian residents every day, throwing rocks and stones at Palestinian vehicles and shooting bullets at civilians who dare to leave their houses and step into their streets or fields – especially difficult during the olive season, which starts each year at the beginning of October and lasts until the end of November.

Our home village of al-Lubban Ash-Sharqiya is 21km (13 miles) south of Nablus and 27km north of Ramallah. Over the past two months, it has been closed off on three sides. The road accessing it from the east – the main one – is closed off with an iron gate, blocks of cement and mounds of dirt, and the road has been dug with trenches. The roads to the north and south are also filled with trenches which stretch for 2km from the outskirts of the village. Vehicles cannot cross. Only one road remains, leading to the city of Salfit in the central West Bank.

Wajid – in Ramallah

My youngest brother, Wajid, works as a photojournalist for the Palestinian Ministry of Information.

He tells me: “The roads are very, very difficult around Ramallah. Every time I head out to check the status of barriers and closures, they are bad. One road may be passable but it is long and winding and passes through many villages before you can get to our village.

“Since the beginning of the war, I have seen the family only once, due to the difficult road conditions. Getting out of the city would require a long detour and the route is interspersed with Israeli checkpoints. The family communicates with me regularly. Every day to check in, my mother calls at night and asks me if I have eaten and if the room is warm. She tells me every time to take care of myself and not go out too much.”

Things were not easy for people in the West Bank before October 7, but they have become many times worse since then. “Here in Ramallah, where I have remained since the beginning of the war, the city is subjected every night to Israeli raids, especially after midnight and lasting until noon.

“Every night, the sound of gunfire, bombs and gas bombs can be heard. The sun rises and life begins all over again. It is very noticeable how few people are moving around because of the closures and tight barriers around the city and the sieges of villages in all areas of the West Bank.

“There is only minimal movement around the city,” he told me. “If anyone makes it to the outskirts, it starts to feel even more dangerous.”

There are sometimes protest marches after afternoon and sunset prayers, but at half past midnight, the raids begin.

“Ramallah was the most active and lively city in Palestine,” he says. “Now it is nothing! This city that used to stay awake until dawn now closes the doors of its homes and shops shortly after sunset. Some people gather in the evening at al-Manara roundabout, where they come from all neighbourhoods to demonstrate. In the centre of the city at night the numbers grow and marchers roam the streets – mostly dominated by youths chanting for Gaza, shouting anti-occupation slogans and declaring their support for the resistance. They are not just sympathisers! They are part of this war.

Lots of people have been arrested for showing their support for the resistance, he tells me.

“The arrests have focused on everyone who participates in supporting the resistance, especially those who publish anything on social media sites,” Wajid says.

“I still believe Ramallah is safer than al-Lubban because of the permanent presence of settlers and the army,” he says. Life is hard, however. “Salaries have been delayed and the already high prices have risen even more. While I have been stuck in Ramallah, I know the family has run out of some things, but because of the state of the roads, I cannot return to our home in the village to provide them.

Yamen – in al-Lubban ash-Sharqiya

While security conditions and military measures have trapped Wajid in Ramallah, our middle brother, Yamen has remained in our village, in the family home. Yamen is a press correspondent for the Palestinian News Agency, Wafa.

About 3,500 people live in our village, including more than 200 who live right on the main street coming into the village in about 20 houses. There are Israeli settlements close by and there has been trouble between them and the village before. In June this year, settlers blocked the road coming into the village, preventing children from getting to school.

“The people in these houses have lived in a state of instability and daily anxiety since the beginning of the war,” says Yamen. “They are close to the Israeli settlements, apart from the rest of the village and they have often been attacked. Their homes, possessions and cars were ransacked by the settlers. In the first weeks of the war, some of them moved to live with their relatives inside the village – they were displaced.

“Then half of them began to return to their homes. They live in a state of constant anxiety, especially the women and children. They keep homes shut up all day and night.”

Taxi and bus drivers who do manage to work go out just once a day, rather than four or five times as would be more usual.

“The main roads are all closed and people who are forced to leave their homes must cross bumpy dirt roads between villages and are often stopped by emergency Israeli checkpoints, or what we call a ‘passing checkpoint’.”

From friends, he has heard that the trip to Nablus, just over 20km away and which used to take 25 minutes, now takes as much as three hours.

Every evening, when our mother uses her phone to try to communicate with me and our other brothers through Messenger and WhatsApp, “She is sad as she follows their news and checks on them. She often repeats that she misses us getting together, especially since the olive season, which is the season of bringing families together in Palestine, has passed without us meeting.”

On October 8, the day after the war began, the main entry to the village was closed off. That was the only road which is paved and Israeli forces have now dug a trench stretching along it for 1.5km. The other access routes to the village are dirt tracks which have been created naturally by the village’s positioning between a hill and a plain.

There is one remaining route out of a neighbouring village towards Salfit, through which you can reach Ramallah. But this adds 20km to the journey and many people do not have the money to pay for the additional fuel.