Israel: a place to rest
On our second day in the Negev, we arose extra early to beat the heat and arrived at Qasr Al-Sir at 7 am. Our group created a path up the rocky terrain to the summit of a small desert mountain. From this vantage point, we were able to see the sprawl of the village below and the endless desert. Our village liaison, Anwar, met us on the top and explained that the two large collections of houses we saw, separated by a small desert plain, was the village of Qasr Al-Sir. The Bedouins who inhabit this space refer to it as Al Hawashla*, the family last name, since this village is one extended family clan.
Anwar explained in Hebrew, his second language, that the land we could visibly see, including some of the cityscape of nearby Dimona, was the historical land of his tribe. After spending only a week living in the desert, it baffles me that anyone, let alone a family clan made up thousands, would feel deeply connected to such an inhospitable physical environment. The essence of any place, however, is defined by more than just a physical space.
In Steven Leuthold’s Cross-Cultural Issues in Art (2011), the author explains that a sense of place is “developed through the interrelation of several elements: poetry and literature, art, religion, social life, and views of nature” (p. 163). All of these aforementioned elements factor heavily into daily Bedouin life. The Bedouin are known for their exquisite poetry on the subjects of love and nature, their celebration of the arts, their dedication to Islam, their close family ties, and their symbiotic relationship to their land. While our group was active in the community for one week, I was able to observe first-hand how all elements define life in Al Hawashla.
One observation I recall making and asking Anwar about was the fact that each individual family compound had a wall bounding the property. Knowing that everyone in this village was tied by blood, and knowing that one of their most cherished collective values is hospitality, I was confused why every single domicile was intentionally separated. Anwar replied that these boundaries, whether constructed of concrete, wire, fabric, or just large pieces of trash or steel sheets, were for safety and used to assert rights over the land. Illegal Bedouin construction is often swiftly razed by Israeli inspectors. Also, even though the village is one big family, it does not mean it is always a happy family -- occurances of break-ins are not unheard of among quarreling family members.
Before we descended from our peak to start a day of planning for our eco-arts camp, Anwar told us the meaning of the name Qasr Al-Sir. Thousands of years ago the Spice Route’s path wound through the hostile desert mountains where we stood. The land where present-day Al Hawashla sits was an area where spice traders could stop and rest on their journey from Saudi Arabia to the ports along the Mediterranean where they shipped exotic spices to Europe. ‘Qasr’ means ‘place of rest’ and ‘Al-Sir’ supposedly translates to a sprawling green plant that used thrive in the barren landscape.
It is nearly impossible for me to understand the worldview of the Bedouins as it relates to how they connect with their physical environment. I feel very strong ties to physical places that I have considered home and feel very grounded and spiritually connected to nature, however I do not think this compares to the sense of ownership and attachment they have for the land in which they have chosen to settle. The village’s unbreakable sense of place involves specific physical ties to their soil as well as a profound understanding of nature, informing their worldviews (Leuthold, 2011, p. 163).
Despite the lack of electricity, paved roads, trash collection, and the unpredictability of running water, the community of Al Hawashla is lucky compared to other, smaller Bedouin villages because they are “recognized.”They earned this distinction in 2003 from the state of Israel. Previous to this date, the village was considered illegal. Installation of roads, water, sewage, and electricity to the town's homes has since been authorized by the government, but marked improvements have been slow or delayed. Amazingly, in an environment in which the sun is oppressive, water is scarce, and infrastructure is still relatively weak, this family of Bedouins has found their “place of rest.”
(*English spelling of the phonetic pronunciation – no one really knows the official English spelling of the family last name, if one exists)
Anwar explained in Hebrew, his second language, that the land we could visibly see, including some of the cityscape of nearby Dimona, was the historical land of his tribe. After spending only a week living in the desert, it baffles me that anyone, let alone a family clan made up thousands, would feel deeply connected to such an inhospitable physical environment. The essence of any place, however, is defined by more than just a physical space.
In Steven Leuthold’s Cross-Cultural Issues in Art (2011), the author explains that a sense of place is “developed through the interrelation of several elements: poetry and literature, art, religion, social life, and views of nature” (p. 163). All of these aforementioned elements factor heavily into daily Bedouin life. The Bedouin are known for their exquisite poetry on the subjects of love and nature, their celebration of the arts, their dedication to Islam, their close family ties, and their symbiotic relationship to their land. While our group was active in the community for one week, I was able to observe first-hand how all elements define life in Al Hawashla.
One observation I recall making and asking Anwar about was the fact that each individual family compound had a wall bounding the property. Knowing that everyone in this village was tied by blood, and knowing that one of their most cherished collective values is hospitality, I was confused why every single domicile was intentionally separated. Anwar replied that these boundaries, whether constructed of concrete, wire, fabric, or just large pieces of trash or steel sheets, were for safety and used to assert rights over the land. Illegal Bedouin construction is often swiftly razed by Israeli inspectors. Also, even though the village is one big family, it does not mean it is always a happy family -- occurances of break-ins are not unheard of among quarreling family members.
Before we descended from our peak to start a day of planning for our eco-arts camp, Anwar told us the meaning of the name Qasr Al-Sir. Thousands of years ago the Spice Route’s path wound through the hostile desert mountains where we stood. The land where present-day Al Hawashla sits was an area where spice traders could stop and rest on their journey from Saudi Arabia to the ports along the Mediterranean where they shipped exotic spices to Europe. ‘Qasr’ means ‘place of rest’ and ‘Al-Sir’ supposedly translates to a sprawling green plant that used thrive in the barren landscape.
It is nearly impossible for me to understand the worldview of the Bedouins as it relates to how they connect with their physical environment. I feel very strong ties to physical places that I have considered home and feel very grounded and spiritually connected to nature, however I do not think this compares to the sense of ownership and attachment they have for the land in which they have chosen to settle. The village’s unbreakable sense of place involves specific physical ties to their soil as well as a profound understanding of nature, informing their worldviews (Leuthold, 2011, p. 163).
Despite the lack of electricity, paved roads, trash collection, and the unpredictability of running water, the community of Al Hawashla is lucky compared to other, smaller Bedouin villages because they are “recognized.”They earned this distinction in 2003 from the state of Israel. Previous to this date, the village was considered illegal. Installation of roads, water, sewage, and electricity to the town's homes has since been authorized by the government, but marked improvements have been slow or delayed. Amazingly, in an environment in which the sun is oppressive, water is scarce, and infrastructure is still relatively weak, this family of Bedouins has found their “place of rest.”
(*English spelling of the phonetic pronunciation – no one really knows the official English spelling of the family last name, if one exists)
references
Leuthold, S. (2011). Cross-cultural issues in art: Frames for understanding. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.