Bruqin: A photographic journey to and from a Farmer's Land surrounded by wire, through tunnels under segregated roads, and beneath the watch of threatening illegal settlers. Many of the farmers we work with do not like their photograph's taken, or at least published, so most of them will not be photographed here, but you will see in-between blinks of what they see...
Stolen land by an infamous settler named Yitzchak
Palestinians now forced to take a tunnel to their land, under a Settler-only road.
One of the farmer's we worked with on the right, and Yitzchak's house in the middle of the farmers valley.
This river never used to exist in this valley, until the sewage began flowing directly down from the settlements.
The Settlement above the Palestinians farmer fields. Our role in the harvest is to accompany farmers who harvest in the dangerous spots known to be under threat of violent settlers.
If interested in a video on Uprooting and Displacement, check this video out from a great organization here in the West Bank:
“In addition to their symbolic meaning, olives are a main source of income for around 80,000 Palestinian families. According to UN figures, around 48% of the agricultural land in the West Bank and Gaza is planted with olive trees. Olive trees account for 70% of fruit production in Palestine and contribute around 14% to the Palestinian economy. 93% of the olive harvest is used for olive oil production while the rest is used for olive soap, table olives and pickles. Much of the olive production is for local consumption with a small amount of olives being exported primarily to Jordan. With the growing interest in organic food and fair trade, Palestinian olives are now also reaching European and North American markets.”[1]
This summer I have attempted to start my very own garden, small and silly as it may be. It has become one of the most refreshing new beginnings in my life, with little tastes of real dreams that unravel deliciously with the seasons. I have learned and experienced much in regards to the way that healing can come from helping something grow and receiving from it, getting your hands dirty and cleansing your lungs with fresh air and exposing your skin to some vitamin D and summer rain. The muscle aches, deep sleeps, and energy that comes from the movements of care-taking. The self-reflection, meditation, prayer that flows so automatically as you talk to the weeds. The joy of the first tomato and the patience towards squirrels just being their annoying selves and the frustration of a pest and the labour of hauling soil. The soul being alive with its kin in the outdoors, away from the bright screens and plastic and the noise. The humility in the admission and submission to the elements, to that which is indeed greater than ourselves and our control.
That was just for me, as one.
The health benefits that come from bringing people together in that process is romanticized here yes, but truly proven to be beneficial to communities, cities that enter into hands-on engagement, relationship building, and lessons of learning to work, appreciate life, and one another. Of course, with the population sizes that we have, and many varying jobs and tasks in society to accomplish, large farms are wonderfully essential - yet there is something wonderful about the familial and communal dedication to harvest, that relies on the seasons, the weather, and traditions of memories together outside, working towards a collective goal.
This understanding of the individual and collective physical, mental, and spiritual health of being in our natural home is seen in the centuries-old traditions of the way of life in this region, and is still carried out by those Palestinians that can still farm their land, or choose to take the risk if it is dangerous in their area, or have been restricted access to their land (i.e. in a deemed “military zone” or settlement area, etc.)...
Olive harvesting is a family affair. The youngest children play and scatter around the olive groves all day while the rest pick the fruit from low to high. Hard work is rewarded by rests for shaey (black tea with maramija) or khawa (arabic coffee), and a picnic lunch under the canopy. From morning till evening the day is spent either talking and laughing amongst the process of picking, or ears tuned into the patter of olives falling on the tarps laid underneath to catch their fall, and the thunder of the leaves rustling in the breeze. Families argue and laugh around the trees that their ancestors have tended for centuries or longer... until now. With forced interruption and attack, they are not given the choice to give up this deep connection, and have little to no say in the matter. Yet they resist where they can...
For many of us urbanites, we cannot understand the depth of connection this land has on the identities of many Indigenous peoples.
For many of the Jewish people who desire these connections like those that came before them; stealing, burning, committing apartheid, and destroying not only a people group, but the blessed Olive trees themselves (a holy tree in their tradition as well), is not the answer. It is unexceptionable, not only according to the ancient scriptures, but by the verbal scripture that breathes out of the mouths of those calling for justice all over the world today. The voice of God rings true not just in one's interpretation of texts, but the Spirit that lives and is alive all around us, all through us.
"Israeli Settlers'Violence, Movement Restrictions Negatively Impact Olive Industry" [2]
Canada as a “peace-keeping” nation is a myth that is so entwined in the world of fiction I do not have the energy or room here to barely pick at it's knot. Not only has this government been complicit in this conflict, but also politically and financially supportive from the beginning (as they are and have been in many other conflicts and disasters worldwide - let alone within the country from its very birth).
One such example is seen in Israel, on a hilltop where three villages were previously nestled. One of these villages was called Imwas, and is known widely to be the village where, in the Christian tradition, Jesus reappeared to the disciples after he rose from the dead and walked with them to break bread before re-disappearing (called Emmaus in the New Testament) [Zochrot].
Another one of Israel's methods to take over the land was to plant forests over dispossessed and demolished villages where citizens were forced out of during the years of conflict (initially 1948-1967, but the demolitions, land-grab, and settlement building are rampant now more than ever). The tree was and is used as a weapon and strategy for land grab as former villages are literally flattened and planted into national parks, or the forests are planted on land reserved for future development. Israel confiscated and attempted to get rid of many Palestinian villages by literally erasing their existence with green life.
Canada Park was built with roughly $15 million given to support the State of Israel's mission in the Holy Land. The financial backing paid for the demolition of the village and the trees planted in its place. The only relic remaining at the park is right near the entrance: a mockery was made of the lives that were taken, as their cemetery is the only thing remaining of their existence, as if the park paid tribute to the still living by keeping a graveyard to show that they are seen as dead to Israel. Canada has been accused of being complicit in Ethnic Cleansing [Article Link].
The Sabra (cactus), the old method for building fences in Palestine, resists despite the attempts to get rid of them. They thrive, with the life-blood of the people who lived along-side them still flowing in their flowers and tough leaves.
Palestine is not erased.
As we walk around former Imwas, we mourn what the Sabra still stands for...
