sampicksolives (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sampicksolives) wrote,@ 2004-10-15 12:14:00 |
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Ramadan, broken trees and preparing olives
Friday 15th October – Marda
Last night we had a fairly disrupted sleep so we are feeling pretty tired. After the destruction of the Olive trees last night people felt concerned that the army would enter the village as they had done following similar attacks. Two of us agreed to sleep near the door of the house so we could be easily woken if we were needed. It was quite difficult to get to sleep, partly because of worrying about the army and partly because of the continuous dive-bombing of particularly noisy mosquitoes, which seemed to be coming in droves through the broken window in the room. It turned out to be a quiet night – just as well, because the fast of Ramadan started the next day with the villagers awaking before dawn to eat breakfast (no eating, drinking or smoking from sunrise to sunset).
Today was to be our first rest day as almost none of the farmers are picking as they are celebrating the first day of Ramadan. However Jill, Maureen and Sam had agreed to accompany a family who were planning to pick and were concerned about the army challenging them, as they were one of the only families out. Noreen and Maggie were making a trip to the settlement, Ariel, as they were keen to get a better picture of what settlements were really like.
In the end the farmers never arrived, but instead we were invited over to our next-door neighbours house to see how the olives that weren’t to be taken to the press are prepared for eating. This was being done by one of the daughters of the family, who was about 11 years old and who spoke amazing English. Each olive had to be slightly squashed by a stone until it split partly open and then put into a bowl of water. The olives would then be transferred into jars filled with water lemon juice, salt, pepper; the lid would be screwed on tightly and left for one month. After this the olives would be ready for eating.
We stayed for about an hour with the girl and her sister, and managed to split about one half of the bucketful. After that we decided to go up to the road to see in daylight what damage the army had done the night before. we walked down to meet Nasfat by the trees – the Caterpillar bulldozer tracks were obvious, and the smashed remains of 8 olive trees (full of olives) and four fig trees were obvious. None of us, including Nasfat, could think of any reason why the army chose to do this, but it isn’t uncommon, especially now when the olives are heavy on the trees.
In the morning we walked down to meet N by the trees – the Caterpillar bulldozer tracks were obvious, and the smashed remains of 8 olive trees (full of olives) and four fig trees were obvious. The bulldozers had not only uprooted the trees but had then driven back and forth over them until they were completely broken. This would mean that the trees could not be replanted or saved. None of us, including N, could think of any reason why the army chose to do this, but it isn’t uncommon, especially now when the olives are heavy on the trees.
The destruction of the olive trees is not only an attack on the economic welfare of the Palestinians, but also on their cultural heritage. As N said, the largest of these trees was around long before the creation of Israel, and before the occupation of the West Bank. Whilst in this case the trees were completely destroyed in many cases uprooted trees are stolen and taken to be sold in Tel Aviv (at high prices) or are replanted in the settlements as though planting old trees in brand new ‘towns’ could provide them with some kind of history or link to that land.
After photographing and making notes the destruction of the trees we carried on up to Hares where we were meeting a member of the IWPS house who was taking us to visit a house at Mas-ha which has been completley surrounded by the 'security' wall. (see entry on 'The wall as Mas-ha")
After visiting Mas-ha it was a quick tip to he shops and then back to Hares to write a report on the Olive trees and fight each other for access to the computer! It was almost impossible to find transport back by the time we were ready to leave as everybody was at home breaking fast for the first day of Ramadan, but we managed to get a car to come and take us back to Marda.
Noreen had somehow managed to notice a small restaurant in the village, and after some discussion it was decided that we would go for a meal there rather than cook at home. We were welcomed really warmly by the family who owned the restaurant (which was actually more of a shop with a table in it). We were brought coffee and chocolate and Sam once again had chance to practice her Spanish as this family had also previously lived in Venezuela. We were then brought what everyone agreed were the best falafel that anyone had ever tasted, a huge bowl of hoummous and bread, followed by stuffed vine leaves, stuffed courgettes and yet more coffee and chocolate. To our total amazement when we came to pay we were told that this food was their present to us for Ramadan, and despite our protests the family refused to take any money.
From the restaurants we walked up to Marda’s olive press where the villagers take their freshly picked olives to be turned into oil. Each family takes their bags up to the press where they are weighed and poured into the machine. In return they are given the equivalent weight in oil, which is poured from a spout at the end of the machine into 2 litre bottles.
The smell of olive oil (mixed with the ever present smell of tobacco!) was over powering, as was the noise. Men from the village work throughout the night to process all the olives and bottle up the oil, with olive press running 24 hours a day through out the harvest.
Tomorrow we will all leave Marda and head for the next village in our schedule, Yasouf, which is likely to be a lot less quiet than Marda as it borders Tapoor, a settlement of very ‘religious’ Jews who regularly attack the Palestinian villages and olive groves.
I think the whole group is feeling side at the prospect of leaving Marda. We have all been amazed and touched by the warmth and generosity of the families we have worked with and indeed of almost everyone we met in Madar. Most of the group has been ‘adopted’ by one or more families so hopefully we will all be able to return for at least one visit before we go back home.
Friday 15th October – Marda
Last night we had a fairly disrupted sleep so we are feeling pretty tired. After the destruction of the Olive trees last night people felt concerned that the army would enter the village as they had done following similar attacks. Two of us agreed to sleep near the door of the house so we could be easily woken if we were needed. It was quite difficult to get to sleep, partly because of worrying about the army and partly because of the continuous dive-bombing of particularly noisy mosquitoes, which seemed to be coming in droves through the broken window in the room. It turned out to be a quiet night – just as well, because the fast of Ramadan started the next day with the villagers awaking before dawn to eat breakfast (no eating, drinking or smoking from sunrise to sunset).
Today was to be our first rest day as almost none of the farmers are picking as they are celebrating the first day of Ramadan. However Jill, Maureen and Sam had agreed to accompany a family who were planning to pick and were concerned about the army challenging them, as they were one of the only families out. Noreen and Maggie were making a trip to the settlement, Ariel, as they were keen to get a better picture of what settlements were really like.
In the end the farmers never arrived, but instead we were invited over to our next-door neighbours house to see how the olives that weren’t to be taken to the press are prepared for eating. This was being done by one of the daughters of the family, who was about 11 years old and who spoke amazing English. Each olive had to be slightly squashed by a stone until it split partly open and then put into a bowl of water. The olives would then be transferred into jars filled with water lemon juice, salt, pepper; the lid would be screwed on tightly and left for one month. After this the olives would be ready for eating.
We stayed for about an hour with the girl and her sister, and managed to split about one half of the bucketful. After that we decided to go up to the road to see in daylight what damage the army had done the night before. we walked down to meet Nasfat by the trees – the Caterpillar bulldozer tracks were obvious, and the smashed remains of 8 olive trees (full of olives) and four fig trees were obvious. None of us, including Nasfat, could think of any reason why the army chose to do this, but it isn’t uncommon, especially now when the olives are heavy on the trees.
In the morning we walked down to meet N by the trees – the Caterpillar bulldozer tracks were obvious, and the smashed remains of 8 olive trees (full of olives) and four fig trees were obvious. The bulldozers had not only uprooted the trees but had then driven back and forth over them until they were completely broken. This would mean that the trees could not be replanted or saved. None of us, including N, could think of any reason why the army chose to do this, but it isn’t uncommon, especially now when the olives are heavy on the trees.
The destruction of the olive trees is not only an attack on the economic welfare of the Palestinians, but also on their cultural heritage. As N said, the largest of these trees was around long before the creation of Israel, and before the occupation of the West Bank. Whilst in this case the trees were completely destroyed in many cases uprooted trees are stolen and taken to be sold in Tel Aviv (at high prices) or are replanted in the settlements as though planting old trees in brand new ‘towns’ could provide them with some kind of history or link to that land.
After photographing and making notes the destruction of the trees we carried on up to Hares where we were meeting a member of the IWPS house who was taking us to visit a house at Mas-ha which has been completley surrounded by the 'security' wall. (see entry on 'The wall as Mas-ha")
After visiting Mas-ha it was a quick tip to he shops and then back to Hares to write a report on the Olive trees and fight each other for access to the computer! It was almost impossible to find transport back by the time we were ready to leave as everybody was at home breaking fast for the first day of Ramadan, but we managed to get a car to come and take us back to Marda.
Noreen had somehow managed to notice a small restaurant in the village, and after some discussion it was decided that we would go for a meal there rather than cook at home. We were welcomed really warmly by the family who owned the restaurant (which was actually more of a shop with a table in it). We were brought coffee and chocolate and Sam once again had chance to practice her Spanish as this family had also previously lived in Venezuela. We were then brought what everyone agreed were the best falafel that anyone had ever tasted, a huge bowl of hoummous and bread, followed by stuffed vine leaves, stuffed courgettes and yet more coffee and chocolate. To our total amazement when we came to pay we were told that this food was their present to us for Ramadan, and despite our protests the family refused to take any money.
From the restaurants we walked up to Marda’s olive press where the villagers take their freshly picked olives to be turned into oil. Each family takes their bags up to the press where they are weighed and poured into the machine. In return they are given the equivalent weight in oil, which is poured from a spout at the end of the machine into 2 litre bottles.
The smell of olive oil (mixed with the ever present smell of tobacco!) was over powering, as was the noise. Men from the village work throughout the night to process all the olives and bottle up the oil, with olive press running 24 hours a day through out the harvest.
Tomorrow we will all leave Marda and head for the next village in our schedule, Yasouf, which is likely to be a lot less quiet than Marda as it borders Tapoor, a settlement of very ‘religious’ Jews who regularly attack the Palestinian villages and olive groves.
I think the whole group is feeling side at the prospect of leaving Marda. We have all been amazed and touched by the warmth and generosity of the families we have worked with and indeed of almost everyone we met in Madar. Most of the group has been ‘adopted’ by one or more families so hopefully we will all be able to return for at least one visit before we go back home.
