A Palestinian children's football club in the occupied West Bank faces imminent demolition despite an international campaign to save it. Its supporters say it provides a rare sporting opportunity for young Palestinian players. But Israel insists it's been built without the necessary permits.
In this deeply divided land so much is contested; from the identities and faiths of the people who live here, to every inch of the ground they stand on. Recently, that has come to include one small patch of artificial turf laid down under the shadow of the giant concrete wall that isolates Israel from much of the occupied West Bank.
In the context of the 7 October attacks, the two-year war in Gaza and the fragility of the current ceasefire, there are without doubt far more pressing issues. But this is a story freighted with symbolism and one which has drawn outsized international attention because of its connection to that other world religion - football.
On the day we visit, a group of Palestinian children are lining up to take penalty shots in the winter sunshine. The construction of the pitch began here on the edge of Bethlehem in 2020, and today it provides a place to practice for more than 200 young players from the nearby Aida refugee camp. The cramped and crowded streets contain the homes of the descendants of Palestinian families who were forced or who fled from their homes during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.
On 3 November last year, as the children made their short walk from the camp for that day's training, they found a notice pinned to the gate of the football field declaring it to be illegal. The notice was followed soon by a demolition order.
We don't have anywhere else to play, 10-year-old Naya told me, wearing a Brazil shirt with the name of the footballing legend Neymar emblazoned on the back. We are building our dreams here, she said. If they demolish our field, they will demolish our dreams.
Another young player, Mohammed, expressed his deep sorrow at the news: I was upset. This is a field I really care for.
Despite the challenging circumstances, the community has rallied together, posting videos on social media, launching a petition attracting hundreds of thousands of signatures, and receiving messages of international support. After representations from a lawyer, the club was granted a seven-day reprieve, which has since expired, leaving them with a difficult choice: demolish the pitch themselves or wait for the Israeli authorities to do so forcibly, incurring costs.
The looming presence of the wall, which runs along one of the touchlines, is just one of the many complex layers that underpin the Israeli occupation of the territory that Palestinians want as the basis for a future state. Militarly, Israel controls the entirety of the West Bank, while day-to-day governance is divided between Palestinian and Israeli-run regions.
Although both sides blame each other for the stalemate in the peace process that saw maps dictating governance created under the Oslo Accords, Palestinians feel a sense of irony that they can’t build a small pitch on their land while construction of Israeli settlements continues.
Caught in the challenging political landscape, the Aida Youth Centre believes the demolition threat is about more than just planning law. The Israelis don't want us to have any kind of hope; they don't want us to have any opportunity, said Mohammad Abu Srour, a board member of the club. The moment that we lose hope and opportunity we are going to leave.
As the future of the pitch hangs in the balance, the children of Aida remain hopeful that the international spotlight may influence a decision in their favor.
In this deeply divided land so much is contested; from the identities and faiths of the people who live here, to every inch of the ground they stand on. Recently, that has come to include one small patch of artificial turf laid down under the shadow of the giant concrete wall that isolates Israel from much of the occupied West Bank.
In the context of the 7 October attacks, the two-year war in Gaza and the fragility of the current ceasefire, there are without doubt far more pressing issues. But this is a story freighted with symbolism and one which has drawn outsized international attention because of its connection to that other world religion - football.
On the day we visit, a group of Palestinian children are lining up to take penalty shots in the winter sunshine. The construction of the pitch began here on the edge of Bethlehem in 2020, and today it provides a place to practice for more than 200 young players from the nearby Aida refugee camp. The cramped and crowded streets contain the homes of the descendants of Palestinian families who were forced or who fled from their homes during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.
On 3 November last year, as the children made their short walk from the camp for that day's training, they found a notice pinned to the gate of the football field declaring it to be illegal. The notice was followed soon by a demolition order.
We don't have anywhere else to play, 10-year-old Naya told me, wearing a Brazil shirt with the name of the footballing legend Neymar emblazoned on the back. We are building our dreams here, she said. If they demolish our field, they will demolish our dreams.
Another young player, Mohammed, expressed his deep sorrow at the news: I was upset. This is a field I really care for.
Despite the challenging circumstances, the community has rallied together, posting videos on social media, launching a petition attracting hundreds of thousands of signatures, and receiving messages of international support. After representations from a lawyer, the club was granted a seven-day reprieve, which has since expired, leaving them with a difficult choice: demolish the pitch themselves or wait for the Israeli authorities to do so forcibly, incurring costs.
The looming presence of the wall, which runs along one of the touchlines, is just one of the many complex layers that underpin the Israeli occupation of the territory that Palestinians want as the basis for a future state. Militarly, Israel controls the entirety of the West Bank, while day-to-day governance is divided between Palestinian and Israeli-run regions.
Although both sides blame each other for the stalemate in the peace process that saw maps dictating governance created under the Oslo Accords, Palestinians feel a sense of irony that they can’t build a small pitch on their land while construction of Israeli settlements continues.
Caught in the challenging political landscape, the Aida Youth Centre believes the demolition threat is about more than just planning law. The Israelis don't want us to have any kind of hope; they don't want us to have any opportunity, said Mohammad Abu Srour, a board member of the club. The moment that we lose hope and opportunity we are going to leave.
As the future of the pitch hangs in the balance, the children of Aida remain hopeful that the international spotlight may influence a decision in their favor.
