Plant an Olive Tree from Palestine

Plant an Olive tree from Palestine

Last year, while I was chatting with my Syrian friend, the long-time star in Syrian Drama, Jehad Sa’d. He suddenly jumped off his couch and said: ” I have a splendid idea. Why don’t we plant olive trees from Palestine everywhere in the world? Israelis uproot your trees, and you can plant them all over the world, not just in Palestine. The Palestine olive tree will be everywhere, at the UN, the Vatican, in parks … ”
Last month, a friend of mine who works for Al Ta’awon, the Welfare institution that works for projects in Palestine, launched the same idea. I thought they stole our idea ). But I was so proud that someone took this to an actual level of implementation.
As Al Ta’awon launched its campaign, I call all those who dream of peace for the people of the uprooted olive trees to share and join . Somehow, there is this power of the olive tree, its strength, and incredible resilience. It’s astounding capacity to adapt …
In many ways like me …
Maybe the paragraph I chose to make the cover of my book can say it all:
“I was like a thirsty tree, a tree with a drained stem whose roots remain alive, holding to the earth, wishing to extend its many branches and provide shade and blossoms. I felt my dryness. I resembled the olive tree in my country. You can uproot it, and yet it continues to grow. You leave it without water, and it is not bothered by thirst. Time and cultures and history pass through, and it continues to blossom steadfastly, giving off an inspiring glow, even though it is not the most beautiful of trees. The world notices when its flowers disappear, giving way to olives anxious to ripen. No beauty distinguishes it, yet it is there and eternal. You see its strength in its stem. Age does not tire it or uproot it or dislocate it. Others see me in much the same way. We cannot know what the olive tree has witnessed and experienced in its long existence—earthquakes and floods and droughts. It appears ordinary. The experiences in my life changed me deeply, and yet they left no trace for the outside world to see. Much like the olive tree uprooted from a land which is guarded by a settler who doesn’t understand that area or know anything about it except its ancient appeal. I imagined men saw me much like an olive tree—beautiful, tall, pleasant. But as soon as a man drew closer, he could see in my eyes a despair that surpassed the tragedies of civilization. The moment he rested in the shadow of my branches, he would think that the olives were easy to pick and ready to eat. I am that tree, and I am also that fruit. That man couldn’t understand the difference. He wanted the shade, the amusement, and the food, all in one place.

Join and plant your olive tree today.

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