Gaza's Olive Harvest Fades Amidst War: Palestinians Fight to Preserve Deep-Rooted Tradition

The aroma of freshly baked zaatar bread and the scent of smoke from an open fire filled the air as Saed Abu Baraka and his family gathered under the olive trees in central Gaza. They were attempting to rekindle a cherished tradition severely disrupted by the ongoing war. Displaced families seeking refuge on his land joined the breakfast gathering, sharing homemade bread and tea brewed over the fire, reminiscing about past olive harvests, once a highlight of the Palestinian year. For a brief period, familiar rituals resurfaced, momentarily overshadowing the distant sound of Israeli warplanes.

Men ascended the olive trees to collect the fruit, while women gathered the fallen olives and filled sacks. However, this year's gathering was marked by a profound sense of loss. Many relatives who once participated were absent, and a significant portion of the family's land now lies beyond the Israeli-controlled Yellow Line, rendering it inaccessible. Across Gaza, olive production has plummeted as farmland has been destroyed or rendered unreachable.

Before the war, Mr. Abu Baraka would spend four autumn days harvesting olives with relatives on his family's 17-dunam (1.7 hectares) grove east of Deir Al Balah. These occasions were filled with singing, traditional cooking, and evening gatherings around a fire. "We tried to bring back some of the atmosphere that reminded us of life before the war," Mr. Abu Baraka, 45, shared with The National. "But no matter how hard we tried, something was always missing."

For generations, the olive harvest in Gaza has transcended its agricultural significance. It represented a family celebration, a vital source of income, and a profound expression of Palestinian identity. Relatives convened in the groves to pick fruit, prepare traditional meals, sing folk songs, and share stories around evening fires. This year's harvest, however, has become another stark indicator of the devastation inflicted upon Gaza's agricultural sector during three years of conflict.

Gaza's Ministry of Agriculture reports that approximately 40,000 of the 45,000 dunams planted with olive trees prior to the war have sustained damage. Mohammed Awda, a ministry spokesman, stated that annual olive production, which once neared 40,000 tonnes, has dwindled to no more than 3,300 tonnes this season—a mere 8 percent of its former output. The ministry further estimates that over one million olive trees have been destroyed across the Gaza Strip, with many remaining groves inaccessible. Israeli military operations have damaged and destroyed Palestinian olive groves, while access restrictions prevent farmers from reaching large parts of their land. In the occupied West Bank, UN agencies have documented numerous attacks by Israeli settlers on Palestinian olive trees and farmers, particularly during the harvest season.

"Before the war, Gaza was self-sufficient in olive production, and we imported only limited quantities of olive oil," Mr. Awda informed The National. "Today, however, the situation has changed dramatically, and Gaza now relies primarily on imports." This scarcity is evident in household kitchens. For families like Mr. Abu Baraka's, these figures represent more than just diminished agricultural output; they signify the loss of gathering places for generations, livelihoods, and cherished traditions.

The war has reshaped the landscape and the people who once inhabited it. Mr. Abu Baraka explained that most of his family's land is now situated beyond the Yellow Line, an area under Israeli military control, leaving them access only to their property in western Deir Al Balah. Additionally, many of the accessible land parcels are now occupied by displaced families seeking shelter.

Mr. Abu Baraka recounted a recent visit to the grove with his wife and children. They began the morning with breakfast before commencing the olive picking. While the scene echoed previous harvests, the absence of familiar faces and the loss of substantial family land cast a heavy shadow over the gathering. "First, there is the land we have lost," Mr. Abu Baraka reflected. "Then there is the way people’s lives have changed, and the loved ones we have lost who used to join us every year during the olive harvest."

The challenges extended beyond the picking itself. Pre-war, the family would take their olives to a local press in eastern Deir Al Balah, a facility that has since been destroyed. This year, Mr. Abu Baraka had to transport the harvest to Nuseirat, where he faced a two-day wait for the olives to be pressed.

'Nothing has been the same'

For numerous families, the scarcity has made it increasingly difficult to preserve adequate amounts of olives and oil for the year. Ayman Al Shandaghli, 51, who previously purchased at least 30 ratls (approximately 75kg) of olives for preservation along with two large tins of local olive oil, could only afford and find six ratls and three litres of oil this season. He noted that a ratl of Suri olives now costs 60 shekels (about $19), a significant increase from the pre-war price of 20 shekels, while a litre of oil has surged from 30 to as much as 120 shekels.

"Palestinian olives are special, and the taste of their oil is unlike anything else," Mr. Al Shandaghli told The National. "But since the war began, nothing has been the same." He used to source his olives and oil from Beit Hanoun in northern Gaza, an area now inaccessible beyond the Yellow Line.

While families in Gaza grapple with maintaining their traditions, initiatives outside the territory are working to preserve the cultural and economic significance of its olive harvest. The Last Harvest, a campaign by Palestinian olive oil brand Jenin and the Big Heart Foundation, aims to raise funds for farmers and awareness about the destruction of olive cultivation. Renad Nahfawi, an account executive involved in the campaign, explained that it features a small quantity of oil pressed by a Gaza family and preserved in handcrafted glass vessels designed by Palestinian artist Lameice Abu Aker. These vessels, crafted from burnt olive wood and featuring glass vials shaped like olive seeds, symbolize both loss and the potential for renewal.

"Through The Last Harvest, we wanted the small amount of olive oil to go a long way," Ms. Nahfawi stated. The campaign includes an auction of the vessels, direct donations, and sales of limited-edition olive oil, with proceeds supporting the Arab Group for the Protection of Nature's programs. Organizers indicate that a donation of Dh35 can contribute to planting one olive tree.

For Mr. Abu Baraka, however, the preservation of the harvest begins with gathering under the remaining trees. "The olive harvest is one of the most important seasons in Palestinian life," he affirmed. "We have inherited its traditions from our fathers and grandfathers, generation after generation."