Today we went to the
orchard two ways, some of us walked the long way around as the
occupying Border Police had advised. Some of us rode through the
occupying army check point on a farmers tractor. We all got in.
While working I
could see what looked like smoke blowing over the far mountains,
above the rim of the Jordon Valley. But it turned out to be dust
storms blowing up from the valley, the dust precipitating out when
the air expanded after the mountains.
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| dust cloud hanging over the rim of the Jordon Valley on east winds |
After all the
picking we had been doing I finially decided to try the little rakes
which are always in the field but no one seems to use. I found them
very useful. They are not good when the branches are tangled, but
most of the rest of the time they seem to be faster. You need to be
on the outside end of the branch (often not the case when climbing
the tree) because the rakes work stroking away from the trunk. With a
short handle (a 1.5 ft stick) they make the arms reach a lot longer.
But I still found there were times I did not use it.
As we picked we
moved closer to the settlement road. I noticed as we got closer with
each passing car all the Palestinians got alert, and if a car slowed
down they all paused in their work to see if there would be trouble.
The farm family was visibly glad and appreciative that we were able
to finish. It all feels so insidious it is obvious that the three
days they were allowed to be in their olive orchard was not enough
time for them to complete the harvest with out additional help and
then the order specifically band additional help.
In Bunin, on the
hill opposite where we were picking, I asked a Palestinian American
about the high terraces that did not seem to have anything growing on
them (above where we had been picking). He explained that the
settlers had burned or cut the trees off of them. He said, you should
be here in the summer, the settlers set fire to old auto tiers and
role them down the hill, starting brush fires on the hills and
burning orchards.
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| a borro that worked in the orchards with us |
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