Foragers: A Film about Palestine
Tonight I went and watched a film called FORAGERS, which was shot and created by Jumana Manna, and follows the ongoing practice of indigenous Palestinians in foraging ‘Akkoub and za’atar, plants and herbs that are native to the land. The film is a blend between documentary, fiction and re-enactment in a way that is so compelling, and also is shot in a way where the land feels like a character, and we see it being caught between the Israeli land laws and the indigenous Palestinian people.
‘Akkoub and Za’atar are native to Palestine, and are herbs and plants that Palestinians have cooked with and built a relationship with for generations. The film opens with a group of Israeli businessmen talking about wanting to sell Za’atar and ‘Akkoub to Arab people, and make a profit. The idea seems laughable to one of them, and they ask how are they possibly going to be able to sell Za’atar to Arabs who already have a long history of cultivating these herbs themselves, and when it grows so abundantly throughout the land. They explain what they’ve already done: made laws that don’t allow for the export of Palestinian Za’atar or ‘Akkoub to cross the borders, and simultaneously created laws that prohibit Palestinians from cultivating these plants while also labeling both of these as a ‘protected’ because they are endangered in the wild after not being cultivated enough.
One of the next scenes is of a Palestinian man being taken into custody after having foraged these plants, and talking to an Israeli law officer, trying to explain his point. The Israeli law officer is telling him that he’s hurt the wildlife and violated laws because he’s picked a bag of ‘Akkoub. The man responds, “I am nature. How can I hurt myself?”
This sets up the dilemma that Palestinian’s face: these plants, which are culturally significant to their people, are not allowed to be picked in the wild or cultivated by them. The only access point to buy these plants is to buy it directly from Israeli companies that manufacture it.
The film tells us so much: that because of the high demand of these plants as well as the laws prohibiting people from being able to access them, picking these plants are treated as akin as to harboring drugs or illicitly selling guns, with fines between $750-$6,000 shekles for picking a few bags. That some of the repeat offenders of picking these native plants are sentenced to jail time. That the majority of the population of people who buy Za’atar or ‘Akkoub are Palestinian and not Israeli. And that people who are trying to practice their ancestral traditions of foraging food are routinely policed, humiliated, and treated differently to Israeli people who forage the same plants in the wild.
What also struck me about the film was about how all of the foragers who filmed were elderly Palestinian people. There was such a heartbreak to watching older Palestinian people being policed for their relationship to the land.
The end of the film is an interview with a Palestinian man with an Israeli law officer after he has been picked up for picking ‘Akkoub and he says something along the lines of “can we get over this so I can get back to picking ‘Akkoub? I will always pick ‘Akkoub just like my ancestors before me. And fifty years from now, my grandkids will be picking ‘Akkoub still.”
What is incredible about the interviews is that many of them are shot as fictional re-enactments, but the language is taken from actual court documents.
It really made me think about the ways that so many laws are—at best, arbitrary and, at worst—racist, violent and made to uphold oppressive structures. And how laws don’t ever account for the indigenous traditions of the land or indigenous land cultivation but are actually so often created to suppress indigeneity, and how awful it is to watch these laws be enacted.
After we watched the film, there was a talk back with everyone who watched, which was really beautiful. One person said that the film made them think about the extent of what genocide means, that it’s not just relegated to the killing and displacement of humans, but that it also extends to the killing of culture, the separation of a people from the land in which they have spent generations caring for and growing in close practice and proximity to. It extends to the way that herbs and plants that people use in their cooking are made inaccessible to them. It extends to the way that they can be free with the land, can interact with it without the fear of being penalized or policed.
The same person also talked about the line that the Palestinian man says at the start of the film—I am nature, how can I hurt myself? And how much harm we do to ourselves when we separate ourselves from the land around us, from the idea that we are nature.
It reminded me of this tweet I saw by beloved Shira:
Here is an article that Jumana, the director of the film, wrote called “Where Nature Ends and Settlements Begin.”