Rebuilding and Healing: The Unrecognized Bedouin Women of the Negev

At 62 years old, Layla lives alone in a settlement so remote and small it doesn’t appear on any map. Her daughters married and moved to other villages long ago, and her only son tragically died in a work accident 15 years ago. For the past 40 years, her home has been a small, makeshift shack of wood, corrugated iron, and barbed wire on her ancestral land. 

Across the vast, arid expanse of southern Israel’s Negev desert region, about 100,000 other Bedouin people live in similar settlements that don’t officially exist—at least in the eyes of the Israeli government. Classified as an “illegal settlement,” villages like Layla’s are denied the most basic means of survival. There’s no electricity to light their homes or power air conditioners in the brutal desert summer. Running water is unavailable to drink, clean or cook with. With few employment opportunities and even fewer schools and health clinics, people are trapped in a perpetual cycle of poverty, disease, and unemployment. Bedouin women, like Layla, bear the heaviest burdens of trying to keep their families fed and healthy.

Sidreh volunteers organizing aid and donations.

Our partner organization, Sidreh, is a lifeline for women in the most vulnerable households of the unrecognized villages. At their Emergency Supplies Room (ESR), injured mothers and sick children can access basic medicines, hygiene items (like diapers), and heal both physically and emotionally thanks to Sidreh’s free healthcare and their volunteers’ warm support.

Layla’s hands, burned by a fire that reduced her home to ashes.

Layla walked into Sidreh’s ESR with burns on her hands and arms, carrying the weight of a devastating story. Days earlier, while cooking over an open fire, an accidental splash of oil sparked a blaze that quickly engulfed her home. She managed to escape, but the fire destroyed everything—her modest belongings, important documents, and, most heartbreakingly, the cherished photos of her late son. “All my memories disappeared in a minute,” she told Noor, Sidreh’s ESR Coordinator.

The remains of Layla’s home.

Homeless and injured, Layla sought help at the ESR. A volunteer, trained for this kind of situation, was able to provide her with crucial first aid, including burn cream, bandages, and painkillers for her injuries. Layla moved into a small outbuilding owned by one of her relatives and Noor stepped in to offer further support—food for the weeks ahead and donations of blankets, solar lights, furniture, and other essentials.

Beyond physical recovery, Layla now faces the daunting task of replacing her lost documents — an almost insurmountable challenge for someone who doesn’t speak Hebrew and has no legal address. But she’s not alone. Sidreh is committed to supporting Layla as she faces the legal process and regains a sense of stability.

A glimpse of Sidreh’s ESR, filled with medicine, food, and diapers.

Over in the remote village of Tel Arad, life presents unrelenting challenges to 39 year old Amal. She lives on the edge of survival, struggling to feed and raise her four young children, aged 2 to 5 years old. With no jobs to be found in or near the village, her husband spends most of the month living on a construction site far away, with his meager paycheck barely covering his living expenses and those of his family. Amal has no way of getting to the city without him, so when her toddler developed a high fever late one night, panic quickly set in. Painkillers and fever reducers are too expensive, and ambulances do not serve her village. Amal was consumed by worry.

Women can feed their families with food supplies from the ESR.

Fortunately, Amal was well aware of the ESR—she’d recently taken diapers and some food from the room when she couldn’t make ends meet. Knowing Sidreh’s ESR volunteer would be sympathetic, she walked over to her, despite the late hour. “I’m afraid the fever will get worse and I have no medicine,” she said, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I’ve heard of children dying from fevers. Getting medicine is the most important thing right now.” 

The volunteer, responsible for managing the aid room, swiftly provided the necessary medication. Reflecting on the encounter, the volunteer later shared, “I’m so proud to be part of this project. It’s impossible to describe my feelings when I see mothers’ happiness in getting the simplest medicines for their kids. Until this room opened, you can’t imagine how difficult it used to be.” 

Compassionate volunteers organizing donations at the ESR.

Despite their impoverished living conditions, Layla, Amal, and the thousands of other Bedouins in these rural villages remain dedicated to their ancestral, tribal land. They’ve lived there for generations, caring for their animals and crops. Leaving for the city—as the Israeli government has been pressuring them to do—would mean giving up the way of life they’ve always known, and ceding their land to Israeli settlements. 

The Israeli government may refuse to recognize their villages, but we see them, and we’ll ensure that they are not forgotten. With Sidreh’s compassionate support, Layla and Amal can access vital resources—food, medicine, and economic opportunities—that allow them to hold on to their way of life. In a land where their presence is denied and ignored, Bedouin women continue to stand strong, and thanks to Sidreh, they do not stand alone.