In the hills of the occupied West Bank, a strange and painful irony unfolds every day: the same Israeli settlers who seize Palestinian land, burn our olive trees and shoot at our farmers now imitate the very way of life they are destroying.

As a Palestinian farmer, every October, when the Day of the Cross (Youm Al-Salib) passes, the first drops of rain fall and the colour of the olives begins to change, I know that the season has arrived. The air grows heavy with humidity and the promise of new oil. I take my tools, gather my family and go down to the fields. These are ancient rituals, passed down from my mother, who knew the signs of the land by heart — when to prune, when to harvest, when to rest.

The land smells of thyme and wet earth; birds sing as if blessing the season. For a moment, peace seems to prevail — until my eyes fall upon the top of the hill and I see settlers camping on the ridge, rifles slung over their shoulders, playing farmers while denying us our right to farm. It is like killing the victim — and then walking in his funeral procession.

Occupation and cultural appropriation

They occupy the mountaintops overlooking our villages, where shepherds once grazed their flocks and farmers tended terraces carved by their ancestors. They have scarred the indigenous landscape of our homeland. They hate us — the people of this land — despise our language, music and culture, yet imitate our rural traditions as if they were their own.

In recent years, illegal settler outposts have mushroomed across the West Bank. From these hilltops, settlers harass shepherds,

© Middle East Monitor