A Memory to Light the Way

More than six months have passed since the murder of Awdah Hathaleen, an English teacher, activist and father of three. On July 28, Israeli settler Yinon Levi, who was sanctioned by the Biden administration for providing ​“material support for violent activities” in the West Bank, drove an excavator into the small village of Umm al-Khair to break ground for a new outpost — an unauthorized Israeli settlement built on Palestinian land, often used as a mechanism of territorial control. When residents tried to stop him, Levi began flailing his gun, killing Awdah with a single shot. 

On February 15, Israeli authorities announced plans to indict Levi for reckless manslaughter— a rare prosecution in a system where nearly 94% of cases involving settler violence against Palestinians are closed without charges.

Awdah ​’s murder plunged Hanady and the entire village into a suspended state of horror. She now carefully removes all red markers from her children’s art supplies before they can reach for them. She knows they will quickly see the color red as the color of the blood they saw.

Awdah dedicated his life to teaching young people and defending his village. His death reverberated widely outside of the West Bank because he built hundreds of meaningful relationships with people around the world, believing international solidarity is a key form of strategic resistance. He spent his days teaching English, building his community, and documenting and sharing stories in a persistent effort to ward off Israeli attempts at erasure.

Awdah was killed while filming Levi. He believed deeply in documentation as a form of resistance, writing that he recorded events so they could be shared ​“with the world and perhaps shed a little bit of light of what actually happens in the darkness of Israel’s military occupation.”

Much of the violence that Umm al-Khair and the surrounding communities of Masafer Yatta have endured is largely mundane and invisible. It happens when Israeli settlers cut a village’s water lines, when land is dispossessed by the state and hundreds of sheep have no grass to graze on. This gradual violence allows Israel to obscure its effects, making systematized harm bureaucratic and deniable.

But Awdah’s murder changed both the pace and the character of violence in Umm al-K hair. While the slow, everyday violence continues, the past six months have brought a fast-paced and visceral form of assault. Exactly one month after Awdah’s death, settlers towed four mobile homes into Umm al-Khair, effectively establishing a settlement outpost in the heart of the village.

They brought surveillance cameras and Israeli flags for every rooftop. In late October, the Israeli Civil Administration renewed demolition orders for Umm al-Khair, and attacks from settlers have continued throughout Masafer Yatta, including a coordinated pogrom on January 27 in which armed settlers attacked multiple villages, set fires, stole livestock, and assaulted residents, while soldiers blocked ambulances and detained Palestinian victims of the attacks.

Hanady recently published a poem about the half year since Awdah was killed, a span of time that taught her ​“grief does not go anywhere, but instead takes up residence within us.” And yet, life — stubborn and insistent — continues.

Awdah’s oldest son began kindergarten this year. His youngest turned one in December. Sugary tea is still poured and the residents of Umm al-Khair continue, as always, to defend their future in the face of immense pain. They are not going anywhere, and their decision to remain is not a passive decision. Across the village, posters, murals and graffiti bear Awdah’s face.

“Awdah,” reads graffiti on the wall of the basketball court, ​“may your memory light the way to justice.”