Microcosm of the Mideast Conflict in a Dead Flock

Who killed the sheep?

The men of the Bani Jaber clan were herding their combined flocks of sheep and goats toward better pasture near this West Bank village last week. As they passed the Jewish settlement of Itamar, members of the Palestinian clan said, settlers opened fire and forced the shepherds to flee, leaving the animals behind.

When they returned several hours later, having summoned Israeli soldiers, Nafez Bani Jaber and his sons and cousins found about 145 dead or dying sheep and goats, languishing in a sparse field like so many mounds of fluff.

Israeli police investigated. Forensic veterinarians conducted autopsies. Police said the evidence suggested that the livestock had been poisoned, possibly by a chemical fertilizer. They said they have yet to determine whether the mass poisoning was accidental or deliberate and who was responsible.

The Bani Jabers have no such doubts. They are convinced that settlers summarily executed the sheep, slitting the throats of four animals and then feeding a toxic substance to the others, as a warning to stay away. A settler spokesman from Itamar denied the accusation.

In a conflict in which hundreds of children have been killed or maimed, not to mention hundreds more adults, the alleged slaughter of farm animals may seem trivial.

But for shepherds like the Bani Jabers, the loss is a major blow to the livelihood of people already barely making ends meet. Palestinians see this kind of action, along with the uprooting of olive trees and the destruction of crops, as part of an Israeli campaign to strangle their economy.

The basic dispute over the sheep reflects the fundamental fears, suspicions and hatreds that have permeated relations between Palestinian villages and Jewish settlements for years, long before fighting erupted anew 11 months ago.

Indeed, behind the argument over livestock is the essence of the Israeli-Arab conflict: Who is entitled to the land and its bounty, from olive trees to grazing pastures to water?

In disputing each other’s claims, the Bani Jabers and the Itamar settlers agree on one thing: The trouble starts whenever the two sides come into contact.

“In the past, there were no contacts; that’s why there were no clashes,” said Ahmed Bani Jaber, a nephew of clan leader Nafez. “They lived alone; we lived alone. Separate. Now they are attacking us, and there is no way we can live with them.”

Yaacov Hayman, a professional builder who lives in Itamar, echoed the sentiment from the opposite perspective. “The problems start when there is interaction between Jews and Arabs,” he said, noting that settlers’ cars frequently have been stoned or shot at by Palestinians.

“The Arabs simply do not want peace with the Jews,” Hayman said. “They want to conquer the whole land.”

Hayman, 47, denied that Itamar residents poisoned the Bani Jaber flock, saying the Palestinians probably were scheming to poison Itamar animals. “Whenever they fantasize doing evil things to us, they say we did it to them first,” said Hayman, who moved to Israel 14 years ago from Anaheim.

Nafez Bani Jaber stakes his claim to the land on his family’s presence as shepherds in the region for generations. Hayman stakes his claim on ancient Jewish presence in the Land of Israel and on biblical promise, even though he, like many settlers, is a relatively recent arrival.

Palestinian officials say their economy has lost millions of dollars because of last fall’s ruined olive harvest--a mainstay for most rural families--after tens of thousands of trees were cut or uprooted by the Israeli army and, in some cases, settlers.

The army said it cut groves where the trees were being used as cover by Palestinian gunmen.

Palestinians say they have also chalked up enormous losses from vegetable and fruit crops that could not be harvested because of Israeli military closures that block villages and prevent farmers from reaching their fields and produce from reaching market. Israel says it has taken steps to relieve some of the closures to allow farming.

If all this signals a kind of “agro-war,” the Bani Jabers are only bit players. They estimate their losses in the thousands of dollars.

The dead sheep included about 15 of the largest rams, which fetch the highest prices, plus several pregnant ewes, according to Bani Jaber’s wife, Adalah, 60. The Bani Jabers sell the meat as well as milk and cheese. The wool also brings in a little income.

Nafez and Adalah Bani Jaber, their nine children and their approximately 25 grandchildren live in a rustic home in Aqraba. The house is a collection of rooms around a dusty courtyard that leads to a barn full of young sheep, a few goats and roosters. A forlorn horse is tied to a tree. One of the rooms is stacked high with metal canisters and glass jars full of cheese being cured before it goes to market.

“We live off the sheep,” said Adalah Bani Jaber.

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