A Site of Resistance
As soon as we arrived, I knew this place was special. The terraced Battir farmlands, irrigated from a rushing Roman-era spring, were as lush and green as you can imagine. A gift shop at the top of the hill, the inside plastered with posters of Leila Khaled, George Habash, Ghassan Kanafani, Shireen Abu Akleh, and Ibrahim Al-Nabulsi, gave the real sense that this was a site of resistance. We followed the aqueducts down the hill and were told stories of how this land was defended since 1948.
When we reached the olive groves, an immediate sense of duty was felt among us. There was work to be done. I put on my La Via Campesina hat and joined the workers -- men and women, old and young -- in the harvest. Some of the trees in the grove were over 400 years old. Fatma, an older woman of Battir, told me stories of settlers trying to uproot the trees, and how Israeli soldiers would watch them from the far hill. She said there’s less water available than previous years, and the trees couldn’t be as nourished as they once were.
Islam Nairoukh, from the Union of Agricultural Work Committees (UAWC), told me, “The water means economy. Water is everything.” When wells are dug by the Israeli government and the water is sold to the Israeli settlements, it’s at a fair subsidized price. But for Palestinians in the West Bank, they are supplied with only 15% of their agricultural irrigation needs, and at a much higher cost. Most of the water here is stolen and diverted to ‘48 lands or collected and given to the settlements. Some sources are contaminated by settlers with wastewater or by other means. The Palestinian Authority has failed to protect the water, land, and the rights of farmers, so grassroots organizations working to collectivize the Palestinian farmlands and laborers are critical.
As the day’s harvest came to a close after hours of picking, sorting, and talking, we gathered with residents and workers of Battir, along with organizers from La Via Campesina, Al-Ard, and UAWC, for a group photo. Our time in the olive groves ended with a sense of accomplishment and comradery. It was a joyous occasion. Surviving off this land and continuing to keep these lush gardens and fruitful olive groves, is truly an act of resistance in and of itself.