“My land is my soul, my identity, my home,” this was Umm Rafiq’s response, a farmer from Sinjil currently facing vicious settler violence and depopulation attempts, when we asked her what her land meant to her.
Today marks the 50th anniversary of Palestinian Land Day. Despite the ongoing horrors by Israel and its allies, whether the Israeli Genocide aiming to erase Palestinians, ethnic cleansing campaigns against Palestinians in the rest of Palestine, or further extending military occupation into Lebanon; people refuse to abandon their lands.
In many colonial western contexts, the indigenous people’s relationship to their land is often ridiculed and undermined – it is treated as this nonsensical relationship affiliated with illogical-emotional natives. Yet, how are those with colonial mindsets who for hundreds of years have continuously destroyed, poisoned, and eradicated any form of life so easily expected to understand what land means.
Or as eloquently described by Umm Rafiq, a Palestinian farmer in the West Bank, “If they [Israeli settlers & army] truly care about this land and want it, then why bring all of this havoc and destruction to it? We cultivate our land because we love it, they destroy it because they want us to leave. But we won’t.” Umm Rafiq is one of the amazing farmers we work with, through our partners, in the occupied West Bank as part of our ongoing “Plant a Tree” Campaign. When we spoke with her, she was planting her land with new saplings despite her fear of settlers.
These efforts came as a response to this connection to the land. For the past 38 years, any MECA project made sure to listen to what Palestinian farmers and families want and need, and we did our best to deliver those needs. Accordingly, we have many different projects and programs that support Palestinian farmers, all of which we implement working side by side with our partners on the ground, and based on our partners and farmers guidance, experience, and wisdom.
Another one of these projects is the Ibda’ project; a community-based initiative that supports students in developing leadership skills while identifying and addressing real needs in their communities in the occupied West Bank. These students are encouraged to take ownership of meaningful, hands-on work.
As they deepen their connection to the land, their experience begins to take on a meaning that goes beyond learning by doing. What started as a school project became something more personal and lasting; a sense of belonging, responsibility, and pride. In many ways, their journey reflects a broader cultural understanding often expressed in the phrase, “The land is the soul.”
Through planting, nurturing, and harvesting, the students are not only gaining practical skills, but also building and strengthening a relationship with the land that shapes how they see themselves and their role in their communities and struggles. This connection fosters a sense of care that extends beyond the school grounds, encouraging them to think more deeply about sustainability, self-reliance, and their collective future built on the wisdom of their ancestors and community.
In occupied Gaza, as the Israeli genocide continues and after more than 90% of Palestinian cultural land has been destroyed or damaged, we also do our best to support Palestinian farmers who are literally risking their lives daily to work in what remain of their agricultural lands. As Hassan, farmer from Gaza tells us, “Accessing the land today is risky, lying so close to the yellow line and Israeli tanks, yet I still cultivate it. Right now, I’m planting wheat. Farming is beautiful but demands a heart that is unafraid.”
No Israeli settler or soldier riding their D9 bulldozers and volunteering to destroy Palestinian land will ever understand why Hassan will never abandon his land. “My connection to the land began 30 years ago, when I worked alongside my father in our family land. It’s a legacy we inherited from my grandfather and have passed on to our children. This land is like the blood in my veins; it is life itself, the main artery that sustains us, and my freedom, which I will never compromise,” Hassan told us.
When we spoke with the many Palestinian farmers, and students, who are part of our different programs; all of them used many similar expressions, one of them was “joy”. Imagine that, imagine people who have been suffering for decades under Israel’s settler colonial violence and brutality, currently going through a genocide and ethnic cleansing campaigns; describe being and working in their land as something that brings them joy.
This joy is being passed down from one generation to the next, and while occupiers and settlers will continue to undermine this connection, this connection will always bring Palestinians back to their land.
And we’re here for it.
Photo: Umm Rafiq on her land. Source: Middle East Children’s Alliance.
