A Citizen's Stirrings in a Troubled Homeland

12-10-2018

-        Yesterday, Thursday... the corresponding date 11-10-2018... I brought myself... and part of my family, and went down to my town, Azzun, which I love... in Qalqilya Governorate... to pick the olives... despite my delay compared to the vast majority of the townspeople who began the picking earlier, on 27-9, which coincides with the Day of the Olive Cross according to the ancestors’ calendar and their beliefs...!!...They say that on that day... the oil is at the peak of its flow into the oil — that is, it is an indicator for the olive owners that the time to pick has come... And because our area is hot compared to other governorates in the homeland such as Ramallah and Al-Bireh... everyone in our area waits for the Day of the Olive Cross... when the oil is congealed and the olive is ripe (in peasant terms)... and begins to fall to the ground... until the olive owners hurry, with the equipment that usually consists of a seeba — ladder — and majadid — long rods, previously roasted with fire so they straighten — and among its tools the 'uroot', the longest majadid, the 'abiyah' and the 'majadda' and the 'naqafah'... etc., names our people have used since antiquity, in addition to pruning shears and a saw to trim and shape the olive — qashbarata —. Some postpone this until the beginning of the year... and a tea kettle and its implements, and some bring cooking pots so the women can cook out in the field... and some bring canned food or some yogurt and onions and bread smeared with oil. Things vary here, and one of the most important tools for picking olives is the plastic sheet, which are plastic mats whose dimensions range between 2.5 meters by 3 meters and others between 3 meters by 4 and some 4 meters by 4... where they are spread under the olive and, depending on the size of the tree, one sheet or two or three of these sheets are spread... in addition to plastic or burlap bags and collection buckets — plastic buckets — to gather the olives after cleaning them from the sheets... to be placed in bags to be spread daily at the end of each picking day on the rooftop of the house or in places with better ventilation. The best way to ventilate the olives is to spread them out and for the farmers to refrain from piling them vertically... until the season ends... then the entire crop is taken to the olive press in the town or to neighboring towns. The original method for the olive-picking season, according to this traditional approach, is people gathering and mutual aid — the 'fuz'ah' or assistance — since the season needs a number of people... and individualism is not accepted — that is, in management language it is necessary to have a team... to work.

-        I will not keep you long... we descended to the olive trees with my team... and I had prior information that the season was struck — meaning afflicted and not bearing olives in the peasant understanding or not fruitful — because, according to insiders’ reports, it had rained at an untimely time... and during the flowering season the small olive kernels fell from the fruit — and the farmers took this rain as an omen because it came upon their crop... But as in politics... we know that things do not bode well from incidents and statements from here and there... yet we keep a glimmer of hope... until we are confronted by the result... therefore we know that the olives this season do not carry good promises... Nevertheless I went down with part of the traditional equipment... and I said to myself, son, maybe the situation has changed — even though I visit the town every month or more — and I hear the talk of the people I meet... that there is no season this year — and after Thursday afternoon I went to the olive trees to inspect so that I could start with my group on Friday morning, early, the picking season. One of my sons and his family would join us to help... and to teach his children the rituals of our seasons and the seasons of the homeland — so they remain in their memory... just as we teach them that we are returning... to the whole homeland... no matter how long it takes... and I was astonished by the sight, indeed shocked: there was not a ripened olive on the olive trees... not a single fruit. So I became convinced that we do not plan properly... but we told one another that even if it is a small outing, we should make the tea kettle... and we struck a match or two on the old clay pipe — my friend for forty years — and I sat on a chair brought by one of my sons with a set of trips... to remain in the car for any sudden stop along the road in this country that is beautiful by nature... _the chair is foldable_. I lit the fire despite having a Primus gas stove with me for these outings or stops... and the process of absorbing the shock began — the shock of the season... On Friday morning, after one of my sons came with his family... I asked one of them if anyone sells oil in the town. 'We want to buy some cans to last us until next season, God willing.' He said, 'Yes... and how much is the kilo, guys?' He said the new oil this year is 40 or 35 shekels per kilo!!. I said may God prevent anyone from tasting the oil... at all!!... Then one of those present replied, commenting, that the price of olive oil at the press in Aseera al-Shamaliya is 25 shekels. I said about them... that is the price for fresh oil... and let's buy a few cans. One said to me, 'But their oil is not like our oil.' I said, 'What is the basis of the dispute?' He said, 'Their oil is light, and our oil is tastier and heavier.' I asked him, 'Where do you get this information, my friend?' He said, 'This is information from the days of our masters and their classifications.' I told him, 'Man... don't nag!! Oil is good... from anywhere in this sacred land, and we must review the classifications we inherited from our fathers.' Even so, I temporarily agreed with them that our oil was not better than theirs — better than what the man’s mind stirs and he begins to say in the town, "This son of the town does not like his town’s oil" — and you know, when people hear a rumor, it takes time before they know the truth... and correctly there are people who envied their fellow townsman... for the sake of someone who intended no harm but whose manner of thinking does not bring social peace... But in my heart I resolved to buy oil from the press in Aseera al-Shamaliya, acting according to economic principles: purchase at the lowest cost and the same commodity — olive oil from the press in Aseera al-Shamaliya, one of the patches of this sacred homeland... and this will be next week, God willing.

-        I performed the Friday prayer in the old mosque in the town near my home in the town... and the Friday sermon was about the ‘Rawabi party’ — the debauched one, as the mosque preacher called it — and he did not touch on any of the concerns in this occupied homeland for decades that gnaw inside it with deadly worries, among them the spread of drugs and the leaking of lands to the occupier in shady protected deals as is said, and the condition of prisoners and detainees... and the abhorrent division that has eaten away at this homeland from its sons... and the negotiations that have brought no result over 25 years... and the settlements that have left nothing of the land to establish part of our dream... and corruption in some public and private positions, and the declaration of Jerusalem as the eternal capital of the Jews... and ... etc., a series of tragedies in addition to the tragedies of the Arabs, the latest of which is the dismemberment of an Arab citizen in the consulate of his country on the soil of a Muslim state... and what will be said about us abroad that our religion and our Arabness do not believe in freedom... and believe only in the most brutal form of killing in history to eliminate another voice in the Arab homeland that sings outside the flock of the ruling crows... And although I condemn the event in that it exceeded what a person can bear and violated public decency and sound customs...!! the mosque preacher — who I heard remains for the people and is considered trustworthy, especially as he is a man of religion and preaches weekly to the worshipers — should, in order to bring people to the shore of safety, change the pattern of thinking — for both him and us.

-        And God is the one behind the intent.