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Rooted to the Land |
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If
the Palestinians are defined by the struggle for land, |
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While the olive tree (Shajarat al-Zeitun) is a signpost of Mediterranean culture in general, Palestinians have raised the humble silver-leafed tree to the level of a revered national symbol. For centuries the ubiquitous tree, with its characteristically gnarled trunk and stately branches, has given a muted and predictable color scheme to Palestine’s terraced highlands. Today it has moved from the countryside to grace paintings, book covers, university logos and even websites. As a deep and solid symbol, it is in many ways more all-embracing than the checkered black and white kuffiyeh. "It is the symbol of being steadfast on the land," says the short-story writer Mohammed Ali Taha, a Palestinian from Galilee. In the face of great dispossession, Palestinians have clung more earnestly to the land about them and the olive tree has become a weapon in this struggle; a strategy Palestinians have used to protect land from impending confiscation has been to plant olive saplings. The humble olive tree also has real practical worth as the tree of wealth, protection and security, of shelter and sustenance. Even if a peasant has but a small piece of land, he will still plant five or ten olive trees. Much of Palestinian peasant culture centers on the cyclical rhythms of planting, pruning and harvesting of olives. Since the 19th century, olives have been a major commercial crop for Palestine; the oil is used for lighting, for soap manufacture and as a nutritious food. The tree gives stability to eroding hillsides and is the botanic equivalent of a camel; it is water efficient, with roots that search deeply for moisture in semi-arid conditions. It is a perfect environmental match. When West Bank land is cleared for Israeli settlement expansion, centuries-old olive trees are uprooted from their original sites. Some have been transferred by bulldozers to decorate Israeli urban median strips, giving new highways instant transplanted history. In the language of poetry that Palestinians use to describe their injured landscape: "To seize an ancient olive tree is like a confiscation of memory." Named by the Canaanites as the Mount of Olives, the most famous of Jerusalem's seven hills evokes the natural orchards that grew there over two millennia ago, of which only a few ancients remain today. For a people who are defined by the land on which they live, there may be no more appropriate symbol.
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