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‘I would love to shepherd in Ireland. You don’t have settlers there.’
Ayman, shepherd, Jordan Valley
That was the first thing Ayman said to me when he learned I was from Ireland. A simple, almost offhand remark — yet it has echoed in my mind ever since. It framed everything I witnessed in the days that followed: the daily frustrations, the restrictions, the small humiliations, the sight of sheep penned indoors while the hills that once belonged to their community stood empty.
Ayman is a Bedouin shepherd in the Jordan Valley in Palestine’s West Bank, occupied by Israel for over 55 years. He lives with his father, brothers, and their families in a small community that has herded sheep and goats for generations. Shepherding here is not merely a livelihood; it is an inheritance — a tradition passed from father to son. Ayman hopes his children will continue that line, though the pressures of occupation make the dream increasingly fragile.
Shepherd in the Jordan Valley with flock, donkey and dog
When I asked Ayman and his family what shepherding used to be like, their memories painted a picture of freedom now lost: long days walking fifteen or twenty kilometres, animals spread across the hillsides nibbling at shrubs and wild grasses, families working side by side while children learned the paths of their ancestors. The land sustained them.
Today, the expansion of Israeli seizures of Palestinian land, illegal under international law, has turned their open pastoral land into a patchwork of military zones, settlements, and restricted areas. Ayman and his family are hemmed in on all sides. He can only walk his sheep a few hundred metres into the little land that is still accessible, and even there, there’s nothing to graze. Grass rarely has time to grow before it’s eaten down.
Ayman’s sheep in their shelters
Sheep and goats on mountain with nothing to graze
For these shepherds, as for farmers anywhere, the flock is everything. The animals’ health and safety come first. Like Irish farmers who rise at night to check their yards, Ayman and his brothers patrol constantly — but not for lambing or illness. Their concern is Israeli settlers from the nearby settlements. During nights when we stayed in the community to provide protective presence, they rose every thirty minutes to check the pens. Their fear is justified: Settler attacks are frequent, and even routine tasks like moving the flock, cleaning pens, or accessing water all carry risks to his safety. Settlers have driven vehicles into flocks, unleashed dogs, and staged attacks. In one notorious case, 1,500 sheep were stolen from a neighbouring community in a coordinated operation by settlers and the Israeli military.
What’s happening to Ayman and his community is not an isolated incident — it reflects a broader, systemic pattern across the West Bank. Palestinian shepherding communities and the grazing lands they rely on are deliberately targeted to force them off their land and make way for settlement expansion. Israeli NGOs Kerem Navot and Peace Now describe this process:
‘A small group of violent settlers, with support from the Israeli government, have taken control of 14% of the West Bank by establishing over 100 shepherding outposts, effectively driving out the Palestinians from these areas.
Peace Now and Kerem Navot
Their report further details how settlers — backed by the Israeli government and military — use three main tactics to seize land:
‘1. Establishing shepherding outposts and displacing Palestinian shepherds and farmers from their lands. 2. Harassing, intimidating, and violently targeting nearby Palestinian communities to force their expulsion. 3. Taking control of large areas of land from displaced Palestinian communities and setting up new outposts.’
These methods have been brutally effective:
‘Israeli settlers have used shepherding outposts to seize at least [194,220 acres] of land — equivalent to 14% of the West Bank’s total area.’
Peace Now and Kerem Navot
Ayman tells us how his parents once lived on the mountain above the village until 1967, when the Israeli occupation of the West Bank began and the Israeli military built a base nearby. About twenty-five years ago, the family was ordered by the military to move to their current location. Then, eight years ago, settlers established an outpost on the mountain where their parents had lived.
Outposts are considered illegal under both international law and Israeli law, but that does not stop them – settlers from the outpost harass and intimidate Ayman and his family almost daily. Outposts continue to appear relentlessly and seize Palestinian land. Just last year, Israeli settlers planted flags less than 100 meters from their homes. The family dares not respond – any response risks being labelled aggression.
Since October 2023, the situation has worsened dramatically. Soldiers have declared grazing grounds “firing zones,” demolitions have escalated, and settlers act with growing impunity.
The settlers are not acting alone. They are represented and supported by local settlement councils. Shai Eigner, who works for the Jordan Valley settlement council, told a nearby village representative:
‘I don’t want to see Arabs in this area.’
Shai Eigner, Land Inspector, Jordan Valley Regional Council
In October 2025, the Israeli High Court of Justice ruled that this Council does not have the authority to enforce its bylaws against Palestinians and cannot use them to seize land or livestock.
It remains to be seen whether this ruling will have any real impact. Until now, the seizure of land and animals by settlers — often with state support — has been part of an ongoing campaign to remove Palestinians from the Jordan Valley.
The effects are devastating. Today Ayman’s sheep rarely leave their pens. Grazing is impossible, and feed must be purchased at crushing expense.
‘Before the outpost, it cost 50,000 shekels per year; there was no cost for feed. Now it costs 400,000.’
Ayman, shepherd, Jordan Valley
*This is equivalent of an increase from around £11,700 to £93,500 (or €13,200 to €105,800).
Barley, hay, and water must all be bought. Access to springs — once the lifeline of Bedouin shepherds — has been cut off by settlers who control water sources throughout the valley. Driving tractors to fetch water is too risky; slow-moving vehicles are easy targets for attack. The community now depends on expensive water tankers.
Sheep and goats eating fodder that Ayman must purchase at significant cost
The human costs are just as severe. For two years, the children have not lived at home. Harassment from settlers and at checkpoints became so intense that the school bus refused to enter the community. The children were forced to move into town to study. One brother explained:
‘We have children in university, in school — we have to have two homes. It’s a big responsibility.’
Ayman, Jordan Valley
His wife and children spend summers in town, with his wife returning during the school year so she can farm, but even visiting is difficult. The town lies beyond a checkpoint whose closures are unpredictable. A journey that should take minutes can stretch to three hours. For children as young as six, it means seeing their parents only on weekends.
In earlier years, families would escape the summer heat together by relocating to town. Now the fathers and young men stay behind — if they leave, settlers may seize the land.
Fields they once grew for feed and income have been confiscated or sabotaged. Settlers race past pens in cars and ATVs, shouting abuse, frightening animals, or even setting crops on fire. Military exercises have further scarred the land. As a result, Ayman is worried for their future, every day they stay is an act of resistance and a way to maintain their way of life and culture.
‘Life will not continue without shepherds or farmers.’
Ayman, Jordan Valley
Their words echo a familiar Irish slogan: “No farmers, no food, no life.” For Bedouin communities in the Jordan Valley, farming and herding are not only livelihoods — they are the last line of resistance. If these families are displaced, their land will be taken.
Sheep going for a walk, Jordan Valley
The sight of sheep grazing freely across open hillsides may seem ordinary in Ireland. In Palestine, it is becoming extraordinary — a memory more than a reality. Ayman and his brothers remain, watching their land shrink and their costs rise, keeping alive a tradition under siege. Their resilience is profound — but it is resilience born of necessity, in the shadow of settlers, flags, and the unrelenting machinery of occupation.
Take action to support Palestinian shepherds.
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Send this blog post to your MP or TD and urge them to speak out in Parliament and publicly about the escalating targeting of Palestinian shepherds in the occupied West Bank.
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Read the report by Israeli human rights organisations Kerem Navot and Peace Now ‘The Bad Samaritan: Land Grabbing by Israeli settlers in the occupied West Bank through Grazing’ and demand that the UK / Irish government take a stand against these violations of international law and push for accountability.
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