The occupation displaces 45 members of one family south of Hebron on the first day of Ramadan
20/2/2026- Union for Justice Foundation
The dawn of the first day of the month of Ramadan in the area of Qalqis, south of Hebron, was not an ordinary dawn. The call to prayer was not the first sound that reached the family’s ears; rather, it was the roar of heavy bulldozers and the sounds of military vehicles slowly approaching, as if carrying with them a harsh and irrevocable decision. In a month that is supposed to bring tranquility, the day began with fear, confusion, and running between the walls in search of safety that would not come.
The targeted house, consisting of ten residential apartments, was not merely a structure of cement and stone; it was a small world embracing the dreams of 45 members of the Salhab family, united under one roof and one shared memory. The children had begun counting the days of Ramadan, some of them preparing their small lanterns, while the mothers were thinking about the first iftar meal. But all those simple details faded before the sight of soldiers surrounding the building and ordering immediate evacuation.
The family was not given sufficient time to carry their clothes, to gather their identification papers, or even to take the photographs hanging on the walls. A state of shock prevailed, the sounds of women mingled with crying and the screams of children, while the men tried to plead for a few additional minutes to remove what remained of their furniture.
In one corner of the scene, some children rushed toward the entrance of the building; they only wanted to retrieve their school bags, their notebooks, their books bearing their names and small dreams. One of them clutched his bag tightly as if it were the last thing connecting him to his school and friends. However, one of the soldiers prevented him, snatched the bag from his hand and threw it back into the apartment, before the bulldozer began striking the walls. Moments later, the floors collapsed upon one another, burying the bag beneath the rubble, in a painful image that embodied a targeting that goes beyond stone to meaning, and that even affects children’s right to education and stability.
The walls fell one after another, and with each blow years of toil and savings fell with them, along with memories of family occasions, wedding photographs, and the sounds of laughter that once filled the corridors. In a short time, the building turned into thick dust covering faces and clothes, while its owners stood a short distance away, watching the details of their lives collapse before their eyes without the ability to intervene.
With the demolition complete, nothing remained but cold rubble and scattered belongings. Some of the children sat on the ground near the broken stones, searching among the small fragments in the hope of finding an intact notebook or an unbroken toy. The mothers stood stunned, trying to embrace their young ones and calm them, while the greater question weighed heavily on their hearts: Where will we sleep tonight?
On the first day of Ramadan, 45 souls found themselves out in the open, without shelter, without privacy, and without certainty about what would come next. Nevertheless, despite the pain and abandonment, the families affirm their attachment to their land and their determination to remain, considering that a house may be demolished, but belonging cannot be uprooted, and that bulldozers, no matter how forceful, cannot erase the right or break it.
End
