The American-Jewish woman I met between the hookah cafes in an Arab town was an incarnation of Bibi’s nightmare. After the Prime Minister spent weeks trying to counter the electoral power of Israel’s Arabs, she was dragging them out to vote.

The main Arab party is basking in its success, after winning an estimated 12 Knesset seats and positioning itself as the third largest party. If there is a unity government of Likud and Blue & White, the party’s leader could even end up as head of the opposition.

It is an outcome that Benjamin Netanyahu was desperate to avoid, and believed to be the reason he unsuccessfully tried to take cameras into polling stations in Arab towns (upon failing, he had cameras fitted outside). But when I visited Fureidis, near Haifa, it was clear that Arab voters were not only undeterred, but energised.

Jo Even-Caspi, who made aliyah from New York in 1971, was geeing them along. She was wearing a home-made sandwich board with Arabic writing she did not understand, calling on locals to exercise their democratic right.

“They are so full of despair that they really think it does not make a difference,” she said. “I tell people that they can make a difference. I say that Arabs are 20 per cent of the population, and if you really got out and voted you could have 20 seats.”

Ms Even-Caspi was not recommending which party to choose, but told me that as a left-winger she hoped that Arab votes would help to give Mr Netanyahu a hard time — which they did.

The “despair” she described was certainly found in Fureidis. Anna Salan, 45, said that he was going for a picnic and barbecue and was not voting because “no one does anything.” His friend, who refused to give his name, agreed, saying that politicians “are all the same trash.”

But frustration with Mr Netanyahu, heightened after his anti-Arab campaigning, galvanised many. Raja Muchsan, 40, said that the current PM “acts as if there are no Arabs in the country,” and decided to assert himself by voting for the Joint List.

In a small cafe, Achmed Moosi was sipping coffee with three friends.

“We’re the right people to talk to about the election,” they said cheerily, offering a seat. They talked about how the politics of Israeli Arabs is little-understood: for example, the nuance that their mayor is affiliated to Likud, which is seen locally as a strategy to ensure it receives good infrastructure, even though there is little love for the party on a national level.

Mr Moosi favoured the Joint List, because he was keen to see strong Arab representation in Knesset, and anti-Bibi sentiment played a part in galvanising him to go to the polling booth. “Bibi is good for Bibi and his friends,” he said, dismissing his push to monitor voting stations in Arab areas as “spin.” Charedi parties often receive a few hundred votes here.

One surprising part of visiting Fureidis was the back seat that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict takes when voters make their decisions. Joint List politicians focus heavily on it, but voters spoke almost exclusively about internal Israeli issues.

Bria Abed, 45, said that there is not much point on focusing on the conflict. “If Trump can’t solve it you think we can solve it?,” he asked rhetorically.

Usama Silman, 53, took a similar view. “Palestine or no Palestine doesn’t interest me as I’m an Israeli citizen,” he said. “I’m thinking about the future of my children and my equality as a citizen.

“Give me education, equality, and [internal] peace, that’s what I want to see for my kids.” He planned to vote for the Democratic Union, the furthest-left Jewish-run party, which he said will help Arab citizens more than the Joint List.

Mr Moosi admitted that some Arab Israelis feel disillusioned by politics, but upon hearing that I am English had a simple feel-good line for everyone sitting around his table. “It’s worse in England,” he said.