A deep metal tray brimming with rising bread dough in hand, Najiha emerges from her home, her youngest daughter, Taghred, by her side. She disappears around the corner for a moment, returning with a bowl of flour, ground from wheat grown in their fields at the foot of the village.

Just ten steps down from her front door lies a crude construction that houses her underground oven of hot rocks. With a stick she pushes aside the mound of ashes covering the oven's lid, this thick blanket of gray and red-hot has kept warm the rocks inside in preparation for the morning's bread baking. She takes a ball of dough, flattening it on a second tray, lifts it, and between her hands works it in the air, stretching it into a large round shape. With the oven's lid removed, she flips the pizza shaped dough onto the hot rocks, and replaces the lid.

While the first taboun bakes Najiha's husband, Kemal, arrives, a pot of freshly brewed black tea with sage in one hand and a plate of homemade sheep cheese in the other. Najiha places the chunks of cheese inside the oven at the edge of the baking bread and after some minutes hands her husband the cheese - browned on all sides - and the warm taboun, its texture chewy where thick and crisp where thin. Breakfast is served.

Gathered around the outdoor oven on this Friday morning, it's a quiet start to a day off from school and work, a day meant to be shared with family. This morning's bread baking ritual began the night before as Najiha's eldest daughter prepared the dough, a straightforward combination of whole wheat flour, water, yeast, and salt kneaded for nearly thirty minutes and requiring obvious arm strength. Daily the women make seven or eight rounds of taboun, preferred by all to the comparatively pricey and tasteless white pita bread made in town.

As Najiha finishes baking her bread, Kemal's sister arrives ready with dough to make taboun for her family. The bread continues to bake, the women talk, coffee is poured, Kemal sings a song - his hum sustained, lingering in the air. With a glance into the distance, just above the smoke rising from his cigarette, Kemal's eyes settle on the Israeli outpost lining the ridge overlooking Yanoun. A momentary reminder that the villagers are not alone, a puff from his cigarette, and Kemal sings on.

Karin Brown
Yanoun
EAPPI Team 24

* Taboun is a bread made in an underground oven of hot rocks. In the early morning hours, each family in Yanoun makes their own taboun. Some have their own oven and others share their oven with a family member. Bread is not sold in Yanoun since each family is self sufficient in this regard. We (the EA team) have to walk (an hour) or catch a ride (7 minutes) to the nearest town of Aqraba for any bread, meat or produce purchases.

Nov 1, 2007
The Olive Harvest

There is an air of anticipation building in the village of Yanoun, as all gather outside of their homes in the early morning waiting for the military to make their presence known. This morning is scheduled to be the first of four days designated for olive picking in the groves above Upper Yanoun- where the village's olive trees touch the border of Itemar settlement and are thus out of bounds for the majority of the year. The Israeli military is required to be present during this time to offer protection for the villagers picking olives by warding off the harassment of the settlers.

No clear signal is given, no direct conversation is had, no explicit directions, neither written nor verbal are provided. It is a matter of waiting and guessing as to when the farmers and their families are permitted to ascend into the controversial groves. For fear of settler attacks, the farmers do not normally venture into these groves to tend to their trees or plow their fields. This means that hundreds upon hundreds of olive trees are left uncared for throughout the majority of the year - new growth fills out the body of the trees not allowing the olives enough sunlight, thick undergrowth covers the base of the trees and grass grows high in the unplowed fields, sapping water from the trees and causing the olives to be underdeveloped.

Repeat this scenario over some years, and the yield from the olive trees is dramatically impacted. An area of trees that used to produce fifty bags of olives, now only gives five to ten bags. A tree that used to produce a gallon of oil, now only gives a quarter. This year is widely thought of as an off-season, but the majority of the trees in Yanoun are in especially bad shape.

Once the signal is given by Rashed, the mayor of Yanoun, the families begin the trek to the upper groves along paths well known and well worn from years past. An excitement and energy is widespread as the villagers reach the expansive valley filled with olive trees that they have not seen since last year's harvest. Tarps are laid out, brush is quickly cut back, olives are hurriedly picked, branches are roughly pruned, picked olives are immediately sorted and put in sacs and with no time for idle conversation the family moves to the next tree. The time crunch is apparent as they have only four days to pick what used to take twenty.

Around midday a heavily armed settler approaches, dumps over a fifty kilo bag of olives representing a morning's work, and confronts Hani - telling him that he has gone too far, crossed a line too close to the settlement, and is not allowed to pick olives from these trees. Three Israeli soldiers join the settler, higher military and police authorities are called in, and discussions ensue about rights and access, but it is clear as the chaotic situation develops that the settler has the upper hand. With the forbidden areas never clearly defined by the military, Hani and the others were picking olives from trees belonging to their families without regard for their proximity to unmarked outer border of the settlement's outpost.

After an hour's time, having been held under threat of arrest for his transgression, Hani is finally told to leave the area. He is given five minutes to descend from the upper olive groves and is not to return the next day. Complicating the situation is the presence of five international Ecumenical Accompaniers and an Israeli activist, who are threatened by the Israeli police with arrest and deportation if they remain picking olives alongside the families of Yanoun. Apparently, unannounced to the internationals or the mayor of Yanoun, this upper olive grove had been declared a 'closed military zone' for the duration of the olive harvest, which in effect means that Palestinians, security forces, and permanent residents (accounting for the settlers) are allowed access, while Israelis and, by default, internationals are not.

With no option we, the Ecumenical Accompaniers, follow Hani down towards Yanoun, escaping arrest and abandoning the work that continued in and around the olive trees. The families continued to pick, prune, and collect olives for the next three days, free of further harassment. The settlers are apparently satisfied in having effectively curtailed the access, aid, and accompaniment that internationals and Israelis were able to provide the Palestinians of Yanoun during the most controversial and anxiety ridden part of the olive harvest.

Karin Brown
Yanoun
EAPPI Team 24

November 25, 2007
Picking Olives: Their Lives and Livelihood Under Threat

Awoken suddenly by loud voices entering their tent, Musleh and his family found themselves confronted by five masked gunmen and one man dressed in army fatigues. It was one in the morning.

Musleh, his wife, and their young children had set up an encampment for the duration of the olive harvest on their land just east of Lower Yanoun. For the sake of convenience, they were living amongst their olive trees that needed to be harvested and pruned, rather than traveling back and forth daily from their permanent home in Aqraba. Working at a steady pace for the last month, Musleh and his wife bore the load of the labor while their children attended school during the day. Musleh projected that they needed ten more days to finish the picking.

With their identities obscured and large weapons in hand, Musleh was invariably at the mercy of these Hebrew speaking men. Told they did not have the right to be on this land any longer, Musleh's family was given three days to vacate the area. Otherwise, their lives would be in jeopardy.

This kind of night terror perpetrated by settlers from the outpost of Itemar settlement has not happened since the international presence was established in Yanoun. At one thirty that same morning, the International House in Upper Yanoun was targeted by those same masked gunmen, who made their presence known with a series of rocks thrown at the windows. Petrified by the unknown intentions of the settlers, the Ecumenical Accompaniers stayed low to the ground and waited out their night visitors.

Israeli police and military officials were contacted, the threats were not taken seriously and no immediate action to protect the family or to punish the settlers was taken.

Resolute to complete the olive harvest, with both their lives and livelihood now under threat, Musleh and his family continued to hastily pick and collect their olives for the next three days. Accompanied and aided by other local Palestinians, several Ecumenical Accompaniers and international volunteers, and a couple dozen Israeli activists, all of their trees were picked in time and without further incident. But, perhaps according to plan, the groundwork for instilling fear once again in the villagers of Yanoun has been laid.

Karin Brown
Team 24 Yanoun
EAPPI