Shadow of Resistance

Chapter Seventeen

Days passed, and Gaza began to be rebuilt with the help of other countries. Our lives returned to normal, and I started going out with my friends again. My father also began teaching me how to drive as he promised, which turned out to be a lot of fun.

Today is a very important day. It is harvest time where most Gazans go to olive farms and help in harvesting the trees. Olive trees have a very special place in the heart of every Gazan.

Olive trees are really ancient here in Palestine.In the past, we used to trade olive oil for anything we wanted; it was like our currency. These trees alone could be enough proof that land is ours, that's why Israel always tries to destroy our olive farms and cut our trees but the olive trees are strong and persistent and grow back again that is why we love these trees. These days more than 80 percent of the cultivation lands in Palestine are olive farms.

When it is time to harvest, children are allowed to take a break from school and even adults can take a day or two off to come and help in harvesting. We do that to reduce the number of workers needed, thereby lowering the expenses which decreases the selling prices of the end products.

My family and Sarah's are going to the same place on the same day. This is not a coincidence. We have been convincing our families for a week to do this. My family knows Sarah and her family knows me but they know that we are just friends and that is the truth. Although both of us are sure that we have feelings towards each other, we haven't actually confessed to each other until this moment.

We arrive, and my family starts harvesting while I search for Sarah. I spot her wearing a bright pink sundress, her long brown hair glowing and flowing in the breeze. She walks toward me with her parents following behind. I try to act normally in front of her parents but it was really hard with her fascinating look.I greet her parents then Sarah and I drift away, leaving them.

I grab a huge sac and a thin blue sheet and we walk to a tree. I spread the sheet below the tree and we start harvesting together with our hands and throwing on this sheet. I didn't harvest a lot as I wasn't able to take my eyes off her beautiful face. When she catches me looking at her, she laughs her adorable infectious laugh. We keep talking and collecting olives until it is about 5 PM.

"I think this year is Masia." she says looking at the trees around us.

Masia is a term we use to refer to an abundant year, and its opposite is Shaltonia.

"Yeah I think so. Look how much we got." I say pointing to our mattress.

"Yeah 'we' sure." she says and laughs "Like you weren't so busy doing something else."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

I'm not sure, but I am probably blushing from this awkwardness. "We have to put the olives into the sac to get it to the presser at time." I say trying to change the topic.

I carry the huge sac after we filled it with the olives.

"Is it heavy?" she asks while she walks beside me to the olive press.

"Nooo" I say trying to look strong while I am actually hardly carrying it.

We put our sac and put our names on it so that we take our share of the olive oil. Every one helped in harvesting doesn't take money, but takes his share of olive oil according to how much he collected. She picks her phone and takes a picture of our names on the sac.

"Why don't we take a picture together?" I ask.

She immediately flips her camera and takes a picture of us.

We then start walking to watch the whole process. The olives enter the sink where it gets washed by water from dust then they are milled and gritted so that the partitions tear with their seeds and produce the oil. After that, the mixing and combining stage to make large oil drops to ease its absorption. Then all the residuals are extracted before the final stage which is the separation. In the separation, the oil gets separated from the water to be ready to be put in the glass bottles.

Before the oil is poured into the bottles, I place a piece of pita bread directly under the oil tap to savour the freshest olive oil ever. I take the first delicious bite and glance at Sarah, expecting her to do the same, but she doesn't.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask.

"I don't know, I've never tried it before," she says.

"Are you kidding?" I reply in surprise. "Every Palestinian loves this fresh oil sandwich. Here, try it," I say, giving her part of my sandwich.

She takes a small, hesitant bite, and as soon as she tastes it, her eyes widen in delight. "Wow, this is actually really good," she exclaims.

"You see!" I say with a grin.