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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
World
Maria Rashed and Bethan McKernan in Ghajar, Golan Heights

‘Closed’ village on Lebanese-Israeli boundary welcomes visitors after 22 years

Palestinian women visit Ghajar, which has opened to Israelis after more than two decades of entry restrictions.
Palestinian women visiting Ghajar, which has opened to Israelis after more than two decades of restrictions. Photograph: Tsafrir Abayov/AP

Israeli tourists stroll around the quiet village of Ghajar, buying ice-cream and fresh juice from enterprising new street vendors. Public statues of Imam Ali, who is revered in Shia Islam, as well as Lebanese farmers on the other side of the valley, are photographed with curiosity.

Ghajar is perhaps one of the strangest places in the Middle East: a Syrian Alawite village, home to 2,700 people in the occupied Golan Heights, that straddles the Blue Line separating Israel and Lebanon. It is more peaceful and pretty than its location may suggest: the large houses are painted in bright colours, fountains and statues adorn roundabouts, and the community enjoys a well looked-after public park full of flowers and trees.

A closed military zone for the past 22 years, Ghajar has only allowed visitors to enter with special permission from the municipal council and the Israel Defence Forces (IDF).

But in early September, without any notice, the IDF and Israeli police announced they would no longer look at IDs at the checkpoint at the village entrance. The IDF did not comment when asked why the restrictions had been lifted.

UN peacekeepers keep watch from the Lebanese side of Ghajar’s border with Israel.
UN peacekeepers keep watch from the Lebanese side of Ghajar’s border with Israel. Photograph: Atef Safadi/EPA

Hani, a 46-year-old from Nazareth, was one of an estimated 3,000 visitors to Ghajar on the Simchat Torah holiday in October. “I often visit the Golan in the apple season. I heard Ghajar was open and I wanted to come,” he said.

“It’s very interesting. Hopefully, the entire border will open one day, allowing for cultural exchange. I mistook the locals for being Druze,” he said, referring to the Arabic-speaking ethnic minority living mostly in Syria, Lebanon and Israel.

Miriam Wannous, 22, a seamstress and fashion design student, cannot remember a time when the village was open. “They closed Ghajar in 2000, the year I was born,” she said. “When it’s busy and crowded with guests, it’s odd. At first, it bothered us, we were very secure before. I’ve always felt comfortable here, since Ghajar is like a giant family where everyone knows everyone else.

“My friends from college in Nazareth were shocked to learn that we lead modern lifestyles, I guess they assumed we had an outdated mindset. Everyone enjoys visiting, my friend and her husband had a good time today.”

The Ghajar community’s secretive religion began life as an offshoot of Shia Islam: it shares characteristics with Neoplatonism and Christianity, and some of its estimated 3 million practitioners believe in reincarnation.

Aerial view of the entrance to Ghajar
The entrance to the village. On weekends, visitors can outnumber the 2,700 residents. Photograph: Tsafrir Abayov/AP

Alawite dress codes make them stand out from other religious and ethnic groups: skin must be covered with dresses for older women, and skirts for younger women, but they do not cover their hair. The village is conservative, and it is rare for either men or women to leave Ghajar and build lives elsewhere.

Ghajar is also renowned for traditional Syrian-Lebanese food such as shanklish – large balls of thick and dry crumbly cheese prepared over a couple of days and coated in a special mixture of herbs and spices. Mitabla, wheat and corn cooked in milk, and bisara, a bulgur and garlic stew, are other local specialities.

“With time, people’s mindsets are changing to become more modern and open, and with Ghajar opening to guests, the level of conservativeness might shift. It is already slowly evolving,” Wannous said.

Unlike the rest of the Golan, which Israel has occupied since 1967, Ghajar is treated as an official part of Israel: the people here were put under pressure to take Israeli citizenship in 1981.

An Israeli soldier waves through a visitor at a checkpoint.
An Israeli soldier waves through a visitor at a checkpoint. Photograph: Jalaa Marey/AFP/Getty Images

In 2000, when the IDF withdrew from Lebanon, UN representatives came up with the Blue Line between the countries, leaving Ghajar split into two. The Lebanese government was supposed to take full control of the village after the war of 2006 but diplomatic efforts were sidelined by the outbreak of Syria’s civil war.

Today a fence runs around the entire village’s perimeter, rather than inside it, and the de facto demarcation line has become the Hasbani River, which flows through a small valley between Ghajar and Wazzani, a Lebanese hamlet on the other side.

Conditions here have not always been conducive to tourism. The village was at one time a favoured drug-smuggling route for Hezbollah, the powerful Shia Lebanese militant group and political movement, and the area has seen several episodes of fighting between Hezbollah and the IDF.

But despite its turbulent history, local officials say that since Ghajar opened up, the village has been drawing up to 4,000 visitors a day, many intrigued by this previously forbidden place. New street stalls sell coffee and snacks to tourists, as well as autumn apples and shanklish. A new restaurant at the village entrance is called Falafel on the Border.

Betia, a 44-year-old from Carmel visiting with her husband and children, drank iced tea while gazing at the Hasbani and Lebanese farms, just a few hundred metres away. “I always wanted to visit Ghajar and I finally got the chance to come to experience this unique place. The locals are incredibly welcoming. It is a very colourful, clean, and flowery place.

“It’s not strange to see Lebanese people over there,” she said. “We’ve been to Jordan and Egypt. One day, we hope, there will be peace.”

Ghajar residents prepare for a wedding after restrictions were eased.
Ghajar residents preparing for a wedding after restrictions were eased. Photograph: Atef Safadi/EPA

The sudden and unexpected influx of visitors has been somewhat overwhelming for Ghajar’s residents. The municipality has struggled to find enough parking spaces for tourists, and is using the village football pitch for now. Visitors are asked to be clean and tidy, respectful of Ghajar’s culture, and leave by 8pm.

“There were rumours the week before the opening but nobody knew this was going to happen. I guess they didn’t give any notice in 2000, either, when they closed the village,” said Jamal Al Khateeb, who began organising tours for small groups of visitors in 2021.

“The benefits are obvious: it should bring money into the area. But 4,000 a day is a big number and requires planning. Maybe it will calm down but some people are already on their third or fourth visit; we don’t know what will happen. It’s still a militarised zone. Things can change here at any time.”

• The headline of this article was amended on 8 November 2022 to more accurately convey the fact that Ghajar is on the Blue Line separating Lebanon and Israel.

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