Proud People – Today’s Bedouin in the vanguard of Israel’s Tomorrow
“As the leaders of our people, we honour on Remembrance Day our fallen, and on Independence Day, we celebrate the of the State of Israel,” expressed this mayor of a large town in the north of Israel.
Looking out from a shaded patio with a southern view of the Jezreel Valley, was there anything special about this quaint picturesque town perched high on a commanding hill? Yes, very much. With over 300 years of history of settlement in this area, the mayor hailed from a proud tribe – not Jewish – but Bedouin, whose ancestors arrived on mules, camels and horses three centuries earlier from what is today, Saudi Arabia.
Atef Grifat is the mayor of the Regional Counsel of Zarzir, mostly comprised of five large families, El Heib – Abu Siyakh, Grifat, Mazareeb, Ayadat and Gawamees that settled this area in northern Israel in the early part of the twentieth century.
Mr Atef Grifat – Mayor of Zarzir
Numbering over 100,000 people, divided mainly between nine regional areas, the Bedouin of northern Israel “tied their lives with the Jewish community when the country was founded; in fact, even before!” said Atef Grifat, who before becoming mayor four years earlier, served in the Israeli Defense Force (IDF) for 23 years as a commanding officer in a fighting paratroop unit.
Recalling the stories from his parents and grandparents, “The Bedouin in this region protected the Jews wanted by the British Mandate authorities. In those days, we did not have permanent stone houses like today, and we hid them in our tents. I remember my father telling me how they gave these men women’s clothing to disguise them from British soldiers who were going around from village to village searching. We literally defended them with our bodies.”
Seventy years later, on the eve of Israel’s 70th anniversary, the Bedouin who volunteer to serve in the country’s armed forces, are following in the footsteps of their inspirational ancestors.
New Horizons
Zarzir regional council offices
Long before the brief period of the British Mandate (1920-1948), the Bedouin had arrived during the colonial rule of the Ottoman Turks, who after 400 years, left it in 1917, in a state of widespread neglect. The once great forests of the Galilee and the Carmel mountain range were denuded by the Turks of trees, and swamp and desert had encroached on agricultural land. Jews and Bedouin would work to transform that decrepit and decaying landscape, and looking out at the vista below of the green fields of Jewish kibbutzim alongside Bedouin villages, the picture presented resonated of pastoral partnership.
“Too few in the world know of our military contribution to the state of Israel,” says the mayor. “As I said, it began before our State was established – and I purposely preface the word “our” before state. During the War of Independence in 1948, Yigal Alon, the commander of the Palmach [pre-state Jewish fighting force], met Sheikh Hussein Ismail El Heib (Abu Youssef), from the Bedouin village of Tuba and together they agreed to establish a Bedouin company in the Palmach. The company was called the ‘Palheb’ and it was active in the front lines mainly in scouting and intelligence gathering. After the war, our fighters became a regular unit in the IDF and in 1955, the IDF established a reconnaissance unit called Shaked, which was the first unit in the IDF in which Arab and Jewish soldiers served side by side.”
Mayor Grifat referred to one of the many heroes of this unit, Abd el-Majid Hader who hailed from the Bedouin village of Na’ura in the Gilboa region of northern Israel. “Not too far from here by car,” said the mayor, “but it was far from here where he made his mark.”
Story of Shaked
The history of this unit is an inspiring saga of Jew and Bedouin camaraderie.
The Bedouin warrior monument
In 1955, the frequency of Fedayeen terror attacks launched from the Egyptian-controlled Gaza Strip and the Jordanian-controlled Hebron Hills area against isolated Israeli civilian communities increased, and the IDF searched for new ways to eliminate the threat. Abd el-Majid Hader Mazareeb was recommended for the task, and the IDF tracking and counter-terrorism unit was formed under his guidance and command. The unit was named ‘Shaked’ – in Hebrew meaning almond – but also an acronym for Shomrei Kav ha Darom, (Guardians of the Southern Border).
Involved in countless operations in the Negev, Lieutenant Colonel Abd el-Majid Hadr was wounded many times. His body was riddled with bullet and shrapnel wounds and when he lost his right hand in combat in November 1959, he was nevertheless in the running for further promotion. His military commander remarked:
“If Moshe Dayan could be the Ramatkal (Chief of General Staff) without an eye, we can have a Battalion Commander with a prosthetic hand.”
Such was the stature of this Bedouin soldier who received four decorations for acts of heroism in battle and inspired generations that would follow. Years later, former Israeli Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon would proudly proclaim that the Bedouin soldiers in the IDF “are our spear head.”
“You must visit the Memorial site to the Bedouin soldiers,” says the mayor. “It is only ten minutes away from here by car, and when you see all the names of our 195 fallen – where and when they fell, and details about their lives – you will understand so much more about our community.” Among the fallen are two members of the Grifat family, Liutenant Malek Grifat (1978-2002) and Sergeant Major Median Grifat (1979-2002). ‘Brothers-in-Arms’, Malek and Median were killed in the line of duty, two months apart, and were laid to rest side by side. Committed to “understanding more”, I pledged to drive straight there following the meeting.
From Tent To Town
Kassem Grifat (LT) & Gassan Grifat (RT) – Father and Son
Beside the mayor sat members of the Grifat family, Gasan Grifat, who is headmaster of the primary school in Zarzir, and his father, Kassem Grifat, also known as Abu Sultan, and because he has been on Hajj to Mecca, he is also known as Hajj Abu Sultan or Hajj Kassem Grifat.
Aromatic coffee is served, accompanied by home baked confection and garden grown fruit. Everything tasted tantalizing, much in keeping with my enthusiasm to learn more of this family saga of how one man’s tent would develop into a thriving town; a town, whose leaders would engage in fiesty negotiations with the nation’s Presidents and Prime Ministers, to forge a future and leave an endearing and enduring legacy.
And it all began at the very spot we were enjoying the aromatic coffee!
Ahmad Ne’eran – Founder of Grifat village (within Zarzir)
“My grandfather, Ahmad Ne’eran, pitched his tent right where we are sitting; it was during the British Mandate, and he bought this land,” began Kassem Grifat. “He had a large flock of sheep which grazed on the land you see before you. The rest of his family were spread out around Tivon and Acre.”
Tivon is a town situated 15 kilometres southeast of Haifa, while Acre or Akko, is on the Mediterranean coast, north of Haifa.
Being nomadic, Nimran’s family would spend the summers near Acre and the “winters here,” relates the grandson. “They never cultivated crops, only farmed that which they could move – livestock.”
The stage was however set for a new major development – a deviation of traditional Bedouin culture.
The Grifat family were ready to establish roots and opt for permanent settlement.
Feuding in the Fields
“One day, a young neighbour came running to my grandfather, and catching his breath, reported, “I just saw your sheep on another man’s land!””
This was devastating news; the sheep were his grandfather’s livelihood. Sadly, he had little means of protecting his flock twenty-four hours a day. Anyway, he saddled up and rode over to confront the thief – an Arab, not a Bedouin.
It was a meeting that changed history.
He was received with arrogance, derision, and sarcasm.
“What? You, who live in one tent, come to me with demands as if you are the leader of a great tribe! How many are there of you?” the thief taunted.
That was the thief’s first and final mistake.
Achmat Nimran left without his sheep but left with something far more important – a vision!
Returning to his tent, he prepared for two long rides – to his family spread out at Tivon and Acre. There he told them, “Our family needs to unite. I want you to sell all your land. I do not care how you do it or what you get for your land, but SELL and come BUY next to me.”
They did and by the time the next “great theft” occurred, the Grifat family, were ready – they were now the size of a tribe.
Tribe and Tribulations
Three years later, the established Grifat family were herding not only sheep but also cattle and goats. In the dead of night, much of that herd mysteriously disappeared.
“Saddling up, my grandfather led the pursuit.”
The Bedouin had by now established their reputation as trackers, and the trail led them to believe that the thieves came from the southern Arab village of Umm al-Fahm. “The thieves never got that far,” relates the grandson with a broad victorious smile.
His grandfather caught them in the very site where in the Bible, it talks of Armageddon – the place where the final battle will be fought between the forces of good and evil.
Maybe there was something in that when the Grifat clan caught up with the Umm al-Fahm raiders at the famous site of Megiddo.
Not much is recorded about that clash, other than, “My grandfather returned with the entire herd.”
As with the earlier herd restored, he returned with much more – a reputation of a leader. From a solitary tent dweller, Ahmad Ne’eran was now battle-hardened and the head of his tribe.
Zarzir Mosque
It was this grit, determination and sense of justice that he passed onto his son and grandson who would have their own battles to fight in shaping the destiny of their people.
New Age, New Battles
The foremost battle of the ‘new age’ was the right to an education.
Today there are 2,500 members of the Grifat family living in Grifat/Zarzir, “which back then did not have a school, nor did the place yet have a name,” says the founder’s grandson Kassam Grifat. “So, my father went and brought an elderly man, a teacher from a college. He gave him a monthly salary and a small house to live in and to use as a school. It started with a few boys and myself sitting on a mat on the floor, learning Arabic and the Koran. That was the beginning of my education.”
This was 1957, and within a short time, “children from other Bedouin tribes in the region came and the size of the class grew. There were no grades; only one class and it did not matter how old you were; it was one class for all but only boys. However, what started out as a mission of my father to educate me, ended up as the beginning of the educational system of the Bedouin in the area.”
Attracting attention, “An inspector from the Minister of Education visited, and impressed by what he saw, arranged for more teachers, and so began structured education with three classes – not yet graded by age but by levels of knowledge. I went to level three.”
With the success of this rudimentary school, “Bedouin in the wider region wanted their children to be educated and demanded schools. A prefabricated structure was built as the first school which grew into a regional school for the Bedouin of this region. Soon, the other Bedouin tribes built their own schools but all these schools only went as far as Grade 9. Thereafter, students had to go elsewhere to complete their matriculation; many went to Acre.”
By the time Kassam finished Grade 8, “My father was working in a cow shed owned by Jews in the settlement of Yokneam. He was offered a promotion to be responsible for all their livestock but it meant that he had to live there, which he was not happy about, as he explained to his prospective employer, “The most important thing in my life is to educate my son; and if I am not at home, how will I ensure that he will study?”
“No problem,” they said, “He can join our Hebrew school at Yokneam.”
And so, began “my final years of schooling at Yokneam; I was the only Bedouin in the class of all Jews, and my Hebrew then was poor. I used to walk to school from Grifat early in the morning – took me over an hour – and then back late in the afternoon, before it got dark. It was also scary as there were wild animals in the fields in those days – jackals and wild boar. However, I never admitted to being afraid – that is not our way, and I received a top education; learnt Hebrew, and made many friends. I used to play at their homes and they at mine where we also did our homework together.”
They also did something more together that shaped Hajj Abu Sultan’s young life.
In Grade 9, he participated with his school friends in Gadna – a one-week Israeli military programme that prepares young people for military service in the Israel Defense Forces. “We went to a training camp where I learnt to shoot. Can you believe it; I even brought the rifle home with me; and those were the days we were still living in tents; no stone homes yet.”
In 1967, after matriculating, “I volunteered for the IDF and joined a trackers unit, where I served for two-and-a-half years, where after, I got married and became a teacher, where I taught Arabic and Hebrew. However, the salary was low, so I returned to the IDF where I served for a further 10 years.”
On leaving the army, the teacher and soldier was ready for his next and most important stage in his life – a social activist, fighting for the rights of the Bedouin.
Fulfilling Dreams
The primary issue confronting the young activist “was to have our village recognised by the State as a ‘Recognised Village’. If achieved, then electricity, water, sewage and roads would follow.” Aware of the need of support of a political party, “we threw our lot with the Labour Party as it was more in keeping with our philosophy. However, progress was slow, so I arranged a meeting with the local mukhtars (heads of villages), and we agreed to make an overture to the Likud Party, who were in the opposition at the time. In this very house where we are now sitting, twenty Likud members of the Knesset (Israeli parliament) sat here with us discussing the future.”
Buoyed by this support, “We organized a Bedouin demonstration at Gan Sacher, the largest public park in the centre of Jerusalem, and not far from the Knesset. There we met with two future Prime Ministers of Israel, Menachem Begin and Yitzchak Shamir, the leaders of the Likud. Their response was encouraging: “You deserve all you ask for.” This caused a storm!
The next day, the newspapers were full – “Bedouin Invade Jerusalem”!
The publicity “lit a fire under the Labour Party. Overnight, they were ready to move our agenda forward.
“Our villages were recognised, we received permits for housing; roads were built, more and better schools were built and then then telephone lines! Think of it, my grandfather had to get on his horse to mobalise the first action in the area, and now we had telephones for me to organize that demonstration in Jerusalem!”
Times were changing for the better but there was still one major issue that concerned Hajj Abu Sultan. “We needed to uplift the rights and benefits of the Bedouin worker, and for this I needed a powerful political platform.” This he found with the Histradut (Israel’s national trade union), where he worked for 24 years (1984-2008), emerging as Advisor on Labour Issues for the entire Arab community of Israel.
“I loved this job; I was serving real workers; the position fitted my personality like a glove. I recall all those feisty discussions we had with Prime Ministers Yitzchak Rabin and Menachem Begin, as well as people like Moshe Dayan and Amir Peretz. These were personalities who could make decisions and push proposals forward. They were challenging times.”
Kassem Grifat’s use of the word ‘Glove’ is ‘fitting’ – it ‘fits’ with his pugilistic nature of fighting for a just causes.
And he did well passing on the legacy to his son, Gasan Grifat, the primary school headmaster who says, “Education is the key. It opens all the doors.”
Both father and son agree on the message to future generations of the Bedouin:
“Serve in the army; it does not matter what rank, for it opens doors; and the other, pursue a higher education after school.”
Both note that the “Bedouin are a minority within a minority” and therefore need to exploit all the tools to advance in life. They reveal on the number of young people from Grifat pursuing professions. “We have six doctors in Grifat, and another six are studying medicine, with many others studying nursing, accountancy and law. While those in medicine, mostly study abroad, they usually all return to settle and work in the area. We have students in Europe and South Africa.”
And what started out with only education for the boys is now open education for all. It was a proud moment in 2004 when Dr. Rania Okabi, today a gynaecologist, graduated from Ben Gurion University of the Negev and became the first woman physician in the Bedouin community. Her only concern on graduating she noted at the time, “I hope the long hours of my profession do not reduce my chances of finding a husband.”
While there are today many Bedouin doctors, one that has made it to the top of the profession and closer geographically to Grifat is Dr. Shtewi Sawaed, a Senior Heart surgeon in Carmel Hospital in Haifa. One of the most preeminent adult cardiac surgeons in Israel today, Dr. Sawaed has held important academic and clinical positions at the Bruce Rappaport faculty of medicine at the Technion – Israel Institute of technology in Haifa. In 2001, despite a successful career in the Thoraxcentrum, Ignatius Hospital, Breda Holland, he returned to Israel and joined a pioneering state-of-the-art cardiac surgery department at the Lady Davis Carmel Medical Center Haifa. Dr Sawaed has performed well over 3000 successful heart operations and presented numerous scientific papers and chaired scientific sessions in national and international conferences in Israel, the USA and the UK.
Amongst the Bedouin who have served in the Knesset (Israeli parliament), are Taleb el-Sana a lawyer; Taleb Abu Arar a member for the United Arab List; and the late Sheikh Hamad Abu Rabia. While most have been in opposition to the Israeli governing parties, their presence in the Knesset, attests to Mayor Atef Grifat’s observation of the astute decision why the Bedouin leadership in the 1940s sided with the emerging Jewish state, noting that they recognised “… it would be democratic, a political concept unknown in the Middle East.”
“What’s next?” I ask.
Fruition of the Five-Year Plan
Today there are nine Bedouin regional councils in the north of Israel.
Following intense negotiations with the government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to reduce the socio-economic inequalities between the Bedouin and the general population, the government signed off in 2015, with the “2020 Five Year Plan” 3 billion NIS (aprox. 900 million US Dollars) . “We are already seeing the fruits of this plan,” says mayor Atef Grifat. “It is not an abstract plan but a ‘to-do list’, which all government officials are obligated to give effect to. If you ask me what I would say to the Prime Minister if he was sitting here now having coffee with us, I would thank him for our ‘Five Year Plan’, because it will bring us in line with the general population. We may be a minority, but we are integrating well, enjoying warm relationships with everyone. That is why we celebrate the Day of Independence and not lament it as the Nakba (“Day of Catastrophe”) like some of our Arab citizens. We need to work together in partnership, that is what we, the Bedouin of the north seek. If we fight together in the same armoured cars, guard together the same borders, we want to sit in the same boardrooms of companies, work alongside in hospitals and universities, and sit together in the Knesset.”
Facing the Future
Atef Grifat -Mayor’s blessing for the month of Ramadan
Exiting the town by car, I look up and see a familiar face on a large bill board. It’s of a face that when I entered the town, hours earlier, I did not know. It was of the mayor who I had enjoyed engaging in conversation over five cups of coffee and learning of the Bedouin of northern Israel.
I remembered his advice, and I took it.
Instead of heading south back to Tel Aviv, I ventured north for another ten kilometres to visit the Bedouin Memorial to the Fallen. I gaze upon the ‘Wall of Tears’ inscribed with the names of the fallen soldiers. The wall is in the shape of a Bedouin tent honouring the community’s cultural traditions. All around are basalt stones; solid expressions of strength but also of individual lives lost.
The words of the Grifats about how the northern Bedouin linked their future to the destiny of the new born state of Israel returned to me as I walked around the Memorial Garden for Four Fallen Soldiers who have not been returned to Israel – three of whom were caught by the Syrians and executed by hanging. The sculpture of the broken heart expresses their families’ pain in not having their loved ones buried in their homeland; a nearby fountain symbolizes the endless tears.
Around the site is a ‘tracking’ path recognizing the contribution to Israel’s security of the Bedouin tracker. I end up at the memorial room where there are photos and files of all the fallen Bedouin soldiers from before 1948 to the present. I look closely at the faces of these young soldiers taken in the prime of their life, and read about their lives in their personal files – noting their dreams for the future.
While they would have no future, their sacrifice ensured the future of others.
My most endearing memory of the memorial was the thriving greenery of the lush gardens, attesting to the continuity of life – and the enriching future of the Bedouin in northern Israel.
