The Palestinian town of Tequ was once a destination for tourists coming to walk parts of Masar Ibrahim, a hiking trail and community tourism initiative led by Palestinian tour guides, recalls municipality director Tayseer Abu Mefreh (55).
The town is located beside Byzantine Christian ruins known as Khirbet et Tuqu, he says. Visitors could learn about past and present at the same time, while bringing in income for Palestinians who live there. It was one of various tourism projects involving the town.
In the early 1990s, 100 tourists might come every day, Mafreh says. By the years before the Covid-19 pandemic, it had dropped to a busload a week, though this was still meaningful. There was a guest house and “we hosted them in our homes. It was friendly tourism”.
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Now, Palestinians are barred from hiking the trail because it is too close to ever-expanding Israeli settlements, he says.
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Tequ, east of Bethlehem, is home to about 14,000 Palestinians living on nearly 2,500 acres of land. Visible from the town are multiple Israeli settlements, including frequently-expanding Tekoa – originally founded in the 1970s – which now includes four segments: A, B, C and D.
Dror Etkes, the founder of settlement watchdog Kerem Navot, says settlers have managed to take over about 8,650 acres of herding land in this area, not including “other means of land grab like construction and agricultural cultivation”. About 75 per cent of that land was seized since October 7th, 2023, he says, making it one of the biggest expansions in the West Bank.
“We are surrounded in three directions,” says Mefreh, pointing from his office balcony.
This area is a case study that is being repeated across the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem, where the number of Israeli settlers has increased rapidly from about 250,000 in the early 1990s to about 700,000 today.
A number are Jewish immigrants from other countries, who – as they would in Israel – receive Israeli government support when they move to the region. An Israeli government and services information website says more than 860 new Jewish immigrants have moved to Gush Etzion – a cluster of West Bank settlements of which Tekoa is a part – over the past decade. Another website offering information for potential immigrants suggests there are “many jobs” available, including in tourism.
The West Bank, which Israel captured in 1967, makes up a large portion of the land that many Palestinians – and two-state solution advocates – hoped would form any future Palestinian state. That looks increasingly impossible. Instead, on July 2nd, 15 cabinet ministers from Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s Likud party issued a petition calling for Israel to completely annex the West Bank by the end of this month.
It’s humiliating ... but if we raise our voice and protest they will say we are terrorists
— Tequ municipality director Tayseer Abu Mefreh
The West Bank is referred to as Judea and Samaria by many settlers, who claim they have a biblical right to be there. Palestinians accuse them of twisting religion to their own ends, while actively erasing Palestinian history.
At the same time, Palestinians say they are being suffocated, crushed by an apartheid system. This includes a two-tier legal system, with Palestinians usually dealt with under military law, while settlers are protected by Israeli civilian law. A spokesperson from the Israeli government’s Co-ordination of Government Activities in the Territories (Cogat) unit did not respond to a request for comment.
Under the new version of its Occupied Territories Bill, the Irish Government would become the first European country to ban the import of goods produced inside Israeli settlements in Palestinian territories.
The final legislation also may include services, a move that would, for example, make it illegal for Airbnb Ireland – as Airbnb’s headquarters for the Middle East – to offer listings in settlements on occupied Palestinian land. Supporters say this is in line with the International Court of Justice advisory opinion issued last year, which ordered Israel to end its occupation of Palestinian territory and evacuate the settlements, and for countries to cease trade with them.
A recent report by UN special rapporteur on the Palestinian territories, Francesca Albanese, said Airbnb increased its listings from 139 in 2016 to 350 in 2025, while collecting up to 23 per cent commission. “These listings are linked with restricting Palestinian access to land and endangering nearby villages,” she wrote.
Gerry Liston, a lawyer with the Global Legal Action Network (Glan), says these properties, listed as holiday rentals, are on land considered stolen under international law. Through legal action, Glan has accused Airbnb of “money laundering ... [the] proceeds of Israeli war crimes”. Airbnb did not respond to a request for comment on this and other emailed questions. A spokesperson has previously said: “Airbnb operates in compliance with applicable Irish and US laws. Since 2019, Airbnb has donated all profits generated from host activity in the West Bank to an international non-profit, in line with our global framework on disputed territories.”
The Israeli settlement of Tekoa, close to Bethlehem, was identified by a Guardian analysis as one of the most popular locations for Airbnbs. On it a one five-bedroom home, which charges $196 (€167) a night, is billed as the “house of joy”. Another “spacious villa” is available for €276 a night, along with a €130 Airbnb service fee and a €95 cleaning fee. The description calls Tekoa “a unique communal settlement”, saying “the area is quiet and welcoming, enjoy full privacy and a beautiful view”. The host’s profile says she has been hosting for nine years.
Attempts by The Irish Times to talk to residents of Tekoa were not successful.
Diab, Tequ
In nearby Tequ, residents say the settlements make their daily life a living hell.
Diab (50), who asked just to be identified by his first name, has been pointing in the distance, towards where his former home was demolished earlier this year, when a small all-terrain vehicle flying an Israeli flag starts doing laps on the land in front of him. Visible behind it are towers, Israeli flags on them too, and a bulldozer, which Diab believes is being operated by a settler. If he dared to walk that way, Diab says, a drone would appear, blaring a warning to turn back. If he disobeyed, the military would arrive.
The people’s main demand is to feel safe in our home ... Unfortunately our public relations, it’s not out there like the Israeli narrative
— Kisan resident Musa Al Ebiat
Tequ’s residents used to cultivate this land towards the Dead Sea, planting olive trees, barley and wheat, and grazing their animals, but now it is a no-go area. Diab’s family farm has become the town’s “seam line”, with residents forbidden to walk any further, even to olive trees bout 100 metres away.
Diab and about 19 family members were forced to leave their previous home, in land now controlled by Israelis, after October 7th, 2023. It was destroyed last January, he said.
He now lives alone, his family staying farther inside the town for safety. The night before we meet, he says settlers carrying sticks came to the gate and tried to open it by force, claiming they were looking for a missing horse. To Diab, that seemed like an “excuse” to “test” residents, pushing boundaries farther.
Tayseer Abu Mefreh, Tequ
Tequ municipality director Mefreh says he used to produce 15 litres of olive oil a year from his olive trees, but he has not been able to go to them for two years now. He worries that the longer he stays away, the more likely it is that Israelis will say the land is disused and claim it for themselves. “It’s humiliating ... but if we raise our voice and protest they will say we are terrorists.”
His hometown feels increasingly enclosed. Mefreh said seven metal gates were built at its entrances by Israelis, five of them in the past 21 months. He says residents were told this is the new border and not to cross it. On October 13th, 2023, Israeli human rights organisation B’tselem documented the killing of 27-year-old ‘Issa Sami Zaa’l Jebril, who, it says, was shot in the head by a soldier while protesting against roadblocks. “When they saw what happened, people were afraid to go to that area, the settlers put fear in our hearts,” says Mefreh.
Later, he takes me to see one of the metal gates. He does not dare approach it, saying he could be arrested. At least one more road is blocked by a mound of dirt, as I witness later.
Mefreh, who traces his family back generations in Tuqu, says he remembers settlers first arriving “with caravans ... At first they were nice saying ‘we’re your new neighbours’.”
In the past, he says, the settlers were afraid of the Palestinians, but now they are confident, feeling backed by the Israeli government. “They want to spread fear in the hearts and minds of the [Palestinian] people, to tell us they are here.”
Mefreh emphasises that settler attacks have been happening for years, though the severity increased after the Hamas-led attacks of October 7th, 2023, despite the Palestinian Authority having power in the West Bank, and not Hamas.
Between that date and July 1st this year, 957 Palestinians were killed and 9,269 injured in the West Bank, according to the UN, while 33 Israelis were killed and 212 injured in the same period until mid May, the latest date figures are available. The Palestinian death toll includes about 200 children.
They’re controlling our water resources, our electricity, our health ... Every aspect of our lives is controlled by the Israelis
— Kisan resident Adnan Al Abiat
These figures do not tell the full story. Like the other Palestinians I meet, Mefreh has many accounts – and videos – of settlers intimidating residents, killing or stealing animals, and destroying crops and olive trees.
He says there is also a military raid in Tequ “once or twice a month”, where soldiers arrest or investigate locals. “The Israelis claim that they are protecting the settlers ... The army, they see how settlers attack, they stand and don’t do anything, but if a Palestinian throws a stone they will shoot the Palestinian.”
There have been documented attacks by Palestinians near Tequ before, though Mefreh says any resistance is peaceful. “A settler who came from South Africa, who came to settle and grab my land, I can’t watch him and do nothing. We do protests. Most of the tension happens on the road ... These young boys, you can’t control them, when they see the army raiding their village, they throw stones.”
Mefreh worries about local children. Two of Tequ’s seven schools were on a main road used by settlers, he says. One was ordered to close, with students moved to an “afternoon shift” in another school, Mefreh says. He references Rayyan Sulaiman, a seven-year-old Tequ boy who died in 2022 of an apparent heart attack after Israeli soldiers reportedly chased him. His father told reporters that he “died of fear”. The Israeli military said some children were involved in “stone throwing”.
The impact of both the military occupation and settlers’ presence affects every aspect of their lives, Mefreh says. “Most of our water is under the control of the Israelis,” he offers as an example, with the settlements receiving drastically more water per person.
Even tourism is under Israeli control, he says – affecting the ability of Palestinians to earn a living. “They tell [tourists] this is a dangerous area, they put bad thinking in their minds against us, the Palestinians.”
In 2019, Amnesty International said the Israeli government had “invested huge sums to develop the tourism industry in settlements. It uses the designation of certain locations as tourist sites to justify the takeover of Palestinian land and homes, and often deliberately constructs settlements next to archaeological sites to emphasise the Jewish people’s historic connections to the region”.
Mefreh says he would welcome the Irish Occupied Territories Bill. “Any decision, any Bill being made by any friendly countries in favour of the Palestinians really gives us hope and tells us you have to continue in your path ... If a big number of countries will follow I think that will have a big impact.”
Sabah Abu Srour and Adnan Al Abiat, Kisan
Kisan, a village a short drive away, is also surrounded by Israeli settlements and outposts.
Sabah Abu Srour (34) laughs when asked how far she could travel, should she decide to leave today. Her husband, Adnan Al Abiat (36), says he earlier passed through seven military checkpoints on a trip of 17km. Each journey is filled with uncertainty and the potential for harassment.
Though it is all referred to as the West Bank, it is difficult for Palestinians to move through this territory, and most are totally barred from Jerusalem and Israeli cities such as Tel Aviv and Haifa. Palestinians are not allowed to drive on certain roads and report being stopped and questioned more even when they are.
Srour says she has been attacked by both settlers and the army. The couple has four children, the youngest weeks old, whom Srour nurses as she speaks. “It’s affected me as a mother. Psychologically, it’s affecting me, I live every day in stress. I keep thinking about my children, my husband.”
She says it also has an impact on their financial situation. They can no longer graze sheep in open fields, and have to buy feed. They sold half of their flock. She says the violence also “really affects our social life. Families don’t visit each other as they used to.”
While some Palestinians get work inside the settlements, that is dependent on them not protesting and obeying other rules, she alleges. “The Israelis want us to realise, as Palestinians, if you are against us you are nothing.”
Both Srour and her husband say they live in an “apartheid” system – something the Israeli government has rejected in the past. “Even Israel is worse than South Africa in their apartheid,” says Abiat. “Israel is not respecting international laws ... They’re controlling our water resources, our electricity, our health. Israel now is controlling us. All [the] West Bank is subjected to Israeli authority. Every aspect of our lives is controlled by the Israelis.”
A Bill prohibiting trade with the settlements could “maybe prevent some of the violence or expansion,” Srour says. It would also “give more opportunity to Palestinian trade.”
Musa Al Ebiat, Kisan
“We are really in a big cage,” says Musa Al Ebiat (36). From his home window, he can see Ibei HaNahal settlement. It was recently given official status by the Israeli government, making it independent of the nearby Ma’ale Amos settlement. Ebiat also lives directly across the road from an Israeli industrial park, which he says was founded four years ago for stone-cutting. When he went to complain about it, he says Israeli soldiers came to his home and, when they could not find him, detained his young son, then aged about nine, for two hours. On his phone, Ebiat plays a video of Israeli soldiers pulling his son away. Afterwards, the boy was in a “very bad situation, he had nightmares, was screaming”.
Ebiat is mayor of Kisan’s local council, home to 147 Palestinian families. Some families, he says, were forced to leave because of what locals call the new settler “farming” or “shepherd” outposts – which often involve one or two individuals with a tent. A 2024 report by settlement monitors Kerem Navot and Peace Now said Israeli settlers have used shepherding outposts to seize nearly 200,000 acres of land – 14 per cent of the West Bank’s total area.
In Kisan, 36 buildings – including a school, mosque and local council building – are under threat of demolition, Ebiat says.
Palestinians require Israeli permits to build in large portions of the West Bank, the vast majority of which are rejected. “Israel is putting obstacles for any building, working, paving roads. When they see us working they immediately come and confiscate the materials,” says Ebiat. Unpaved roads contributed to one local dying from a snake bite because he could not reach medical care, he says.
Ebiat says there is an attack around Kisan approximately once a week., He says the most recent occurred the night before, when settlers came to threaten locals. His children recall hearing gunfire. “They do all kinds of attacks ... killing animals, attacking women, damaging property,” Ebiat says. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through videos. “In order to tell people ... we have to document every one, either with videos or pictures.”
His 15-year-old daughter says settlers sometimes drive their cars very close to scare children on their way to and from school. “Not long ago they attacked the village,” she says. “Usually they come with weapons and they throw stones, burn tyres. They come in cars, wearing masks. They curse us, they shout in Hebrew and we don’t understand what they are saying.” Most of the casualties are animals, she adds, saying her uncle was attacked and they killed 10 of his sheep. “I feel not safe, I feel at any moment I might be attacked, I live in danger.”
While “our tension with the settlers is not from the war, it’s before,” Ebiat says, “after October 7th violence increased 200 per cent for one reason. Because when you go file a complaint it’s put on the shelves and [the Israeli police] don’t read it. The settlers remain free, they are not held responsible for their acts.”
“The people’s main demand is to feel safe in our home ... If there is an occupation I want it to guarantee my safety,” he says. “Unfortunately our public relations, it’s not out there like the Israeli narrative. We are welcoming any move internationally that will help raise awareness about our stories.”
Regarding the proposed Occupied Territories Bill, he says “when such a Bill is implemented in Ireland, it will limit the work of those settlers ... it will limit their expansion ... you will stop financing these settlers.”
In the meantime, he says, “we will survive, we don’t have another place to go to ... My grand-grandfather was born here, my grandfather, my father.”
