Urban professionals overcome violence with a community-based agricultural project
Text: Témoris Grecko.
Photography: Manuel Ortiz
Saida, Lebanon. November 26, 2024.
Nabatiyeh is a town of cats and dogs. Until September, in this Lebanon that has not had a census since 1932, it was estimated that there were about 80,000 inhabitants. But almost all of them have left, forced by evacuation orders issued not by this country but by another government, Israel, which makes them convincing by means of bombing. Almost one in four Lebanese has had to leave his home. In the regions suddenly isolated, as in a fairy tale, pets are now the sovereigns of the territory.
It is southern Lebanon that Israel wants to depopulate in order to turn it into a security buffer, according to some of its leaders. Others have openly been enthusiastic about the idea that almost the entire Middle East, from the Nile to the Euphrates, was promised to them by God and that after annexing the West Bank and ethnically cleansing Gaza, they want to take over this small country.
On the way to the coast, the road is lined with buildings destroyed in recent weeks. There are hardly any vehicles because, having exhausted all the targets they had defined, the drones are busy blowing up anything that moves. Although the only group of people we see is trying to put out the fire of a car that seems to have been attacked while it was parked. There is talk of an imminent ceasefire but while it is being applied, the violence continues. The explosion also knocked down a pole: suddenly a thick electricity cable crossed our car as it moved. But we did not blow it up because, luckily, an ambulance got tangled up with it before us, leaving the line at the height of our windscreen, so it slid onto the roof and was left behind.
The people hit in this clip are relatives of the Palestinian family from Tire currently staying with me. Killed by drone while fishing in the morning on the Levant's most beautiful beach as was their habit. Terror in Tire, terror in Beirut. https://t.co/XvMs3BvKJs
— Sylvain Perdigon (@sylvain_anthro) November 23, 2024
On his way out, our Lebanese colleague Mahmoud receives the news that some fishermen from the city of Tyre, whom he knew because they used to sell their catch to visiting journalists, have just been killed by an Israeli drone on the beach, for no reason.
Just fifteen minutes away by car is Saida, the seafaring city that in ancient history was Phoenician and was called Sidon. On a small street, we find a house that has been converted into a community center by the Sikka organization.
It is a happy place. The conversation inevitably turns to the offensive against Lebanon, the ethnic cleansing in Gaza, the genocide. But these people offer a beautiful example of the resilience characteristic of this people, who have suffered a cascade of conflicts but continue to move forward, determined to find solutions that allow them to create a nation, consolidate their state and ensure peace and development.
The founder is Layal Khatib, a web developer, with her husband, Mohammed Ghamloush, and brother-in-law, Ahmad. Over the course of five years, they have added collaborators, such as Tarek Abadi, a business administration student, descendant of Palestinians who were expelled by Israeli militias from the city of Haifa in 1948, who has specialized in raising chickens. Or Riham Sees, who is pursuing a degree in law but here, with Ahmad, enjoys caring for bees.
Telling these stories is important when all that is said about a place is terrible, focused on the spectacular nature of the huge explosions and the praise of technologically advanced capabilities to kill and terrorize. The individual and collective struggles of people who do not let themselves be crushed must receive attention, because they set an example and motivate us. Narratives of endless fights with no solution demobilize. Narratives of resistance inspire.
Sikka has a three-dunam (three thousand square meters) plot of land that these urban professionals, who have learned agricultural techniques here and there, have divided into mini-plots where they grow everything: lemons, chard, broad beans, pomegranates, coriander, parsley, zaatar, cabbage… even amaranth.
Beyond the impact that the war has on each of them, the project has been affected by the lack of supplies that they used to get in the south, half an hour away, in the villages that have now become ghost towns.
But for them, Layal and Mohammad stress, it is very important to move towards a circular economy, which they mean self-sufficient: that their farm produces everything it needs.
Tarek has made progress in this area: with the manure from his chickens (plus three geese and a turkey), he grows algae in a pond that serves to fertilize the soil and also to feed his birds.
Sikka also has a strong vocation for social service and solidarity. She has opened some of her spaces to accommodate people who have had to flee the violence in the south, and she also regularly prepares meals that feed dozens of displaced people who are sheltered in other parts of Saida.
Back in Beirut, despite the painful journey through the areas depopulated by the Israeli invasion, we felt happy and excited: not that we doubted that in conflicts there are always people who look for the best way to get ahead, in community and with generosity.
But seeing it and seeing it (and in this case, smelling it and knowing it, because Tarek kept giving us vegetables that he grows for us to try - all without artificial substances, he emphasized) is still food for the spirit, for hope.
Contrary to what is shown on television, we can feel - and bring to the eyes of those who follow and support us - these basic fabrics of humanity, those that have allowed us to survive... and that should teach us to exist without destroying. Without destroying ourselves.
You can learn more about Sikka at your website, Instagram and Facebook.
A collaboration of Open world with Peninsula 360 and Social Focus.
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