Syrian Olive Trees Put Down Roots in Kurdish Iraq

Suleiman Sheikho, from Syria's Kurdish Afrin region, is believed to be the first person to introduce the olive oil business to Iraqi Kurdish farmers. AFP
Suleiman Sheikho, from Syria's Kurdish Afrin region, is believed to be the first person to introduce the olive oil business to Iraqi Kurdish farmers. AFP
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Syrian Olive Trees Put Down Roots in Kurdish Iraq

Suleiman Sheikho, from Syria's Kurdish Afrin region, is believed to be the first person to introduce the olive oil business to Iraqi Kurdish farmers. AFP
Suleiman Sheikho, from Syria's Kurdish Afrin region, is believed to be the first person to introduce the olive oil business to Iraqi Kurdish farmers. AFP

Tucked away in the rolling hills of Iraqi Kurdistan is a hidden treasure: tens of thousands of olive trees, thriving in a new homeland after being smuggled from neighboring Syria.

Their branches are heaving with bright purple-black olives ready to be picked.

Their caretaker, Syrian Kurdish businessman Suleiman Sheikho, is proud to have brought the olive oil business to Iraq's autonomous north, AFP reported.

"This year was a good year," said 58-year-old Sheikho, who has been transporting trees from his native Afrin in northwest Syria into Kurdish Iraq since 2007.

"On this farm I have 42,000 olive trees, all of which I brought from Afrin when they were three years old," he told AFP, gesturing to neat rows reaching the horizon.

In early 2018, his mission took on a new urgency.

Turkey, which saw the semi-autonomous Kurdish zone of Afrin on its border as a threat, backed an offensive by Syrian opposition groups to take control of the canton.

The operation, dubbed "Olive Branch," displaced tens of thousands, many of whom had made their living for decades by producing olive oil in the area's mild climate.

Sheikho himself is a fourth-generation olive farmer and had 4,000 trees in Afrin that are older than a century.

The slender businessman, who once served as the head of Afrin Union for Olive Production, sprung into action.

He transported some of his trees legally, but smuggled others across the border, managed on both sides by autonomous Kurdish authorities.

Some of the new transplants joined his orchard, located among luxurious summer villas near the regional capital Arbil. He sold others to farmers across Kurdish Iraq.

Raw olives are a staple on Levantine lunch tables, while their oil is both used in cooking and drizzled on top of favorite appetizers like hummus.

The oil can also be used to make soap, while the dark, sawdust-like residue from olives pressed in the autumn is often burned to heat houses in winter.

- Fertile ground ahead -

Olive trees struggle in the blistering heat and desert landscapes of Iraq, so the yellowish-green oil was long imported at great expense from Lebanon, Syria or Turkey.

A domestic oil industry could change all that.

Sheikho was relieved to find the soil near Arbil as rich as in his hometown, but the warmer temperatures meant his trees required more robust irrigation networks.

According to AFP, there are two harvests a year, in February and November.

He built a press, where the olives are separated from twigs and leaves, pitted, then squeezed to produce thick, aromatic oil.

Dressed in a charcoal grey blazer during AFP's visit, Sheikho tested the quality by drinking it raw from the press, before the viscous fluid was poured into plastic jugs.

"For every 100 kilos of olives, I produced 23 kilos of olive oil," he told AFP.

Olive oil production had not taken root when Sheikho began working there, but has thrived since Syrians displaced by their country's nearly decade-long war began moving there.

According to the Kurdish regional government's (KRG) agriculture ministry, there were just over 169,000 olive trees in the Kurdish region in 2008.

Since then, the ministry invested some $23 million in planting and importing the trees, which now number around four million, it estimates.

There are around a half-dozen olive presses, employing many Syrian Kurds from Afrin.

Sheikho sees more fertile ground ahead.

"The farmers here have great ideas and they are extremely ambitious," he told AFP.

"With the hard work and experience of Afrin's farmers, they are going to create a very bright future for olive business."



Kamala or Harris? How to Thread the Needle on Politics, Gender and Race

Democratic presidential nominee, US Vice President Kamala Harris speaks during a campaign rally at the Alliant Energy Center on October 30, 2024 in Madison, Wisconsin. Harris and her opponent, Republican presidential nominee former President Donald Trump, are currently in a dead heat in the swing state.   Scott Olson/Getty Images/AFP (Photo by SCOTT OLSON / GETTY IMAGES NORTH AMERICA / Getty Images via AFP)
Democratic presidential nominee, US Vice President Kamala Harris speaks during a campaign rally at the Alliant Energy Center on October 30, 2024 in Madison, Wisconsin. Harris and her opponent, Republican presidential nominee former President Donald Trump, are currently in a dead heat in the swing state. Scott Olson/Getty Images/AFP (Photo by SCOTT OLSON / GETTY IMAGES NORTH AMERICA / Getty Images via AFP)
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Kamala or Harris? How to Thread the Needle on Politics, Gender and Race

Democratic presidential nominee, US Vice President Kamala Harris speaks during a campaign rally at the Alliant Energy Center on October 30, 2024 in Madison, Wisconsin. Harris and her opponent, Republican presidential nominee former President Donald Trump, are currently in a dead heat in the swing state.   Scott Olson/Getty Images/AFP (Photo by SCOTT OLSON / GETTY IMAGES NORTH AMERICA / Getty Images via AFP)
Democratic presidential nominee, US Vice President Kamala Harris speaks during a campaign rally at the Alliant Energy Center on October 30, 2024 in Madison, Wisconsin. Harris and her opponent, Republican presidential nominee former President Donald Trump, are currently in a dead heat in the swing state. Scott Olson/Getty Images/AFP (Photo by SCOTT OLSON / GETTY IMAGES NORTH AMERICA / Getty Images via AFP)

What's in a name? For Kamala Harris, it's a way to assert her own authority, implicitly celebrate her identity -- and blunt attacks by her White House rival, Donald Trump.
The former Republican president persists in calling Harris by her first name at his rallies -- a contrast to how he referred to the former Democratic presidential candidate, Joe Biden, either as "Biden" or sometimes "Sleepy Joe."
The 78-year-old billionaire also makes a point of mispronouncing "Kamala," telling a rally at the end of July that there were "numerous ways of saying her name."
"I said, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter what I say. I couldn't care less if I mispronounce it," he continued.
On the surface, it's just another attack by a politician famous for his belittling nicknames.
But when it comes to a woman and a person of color, Trump's insistence on referring to Harris by her first name -- and mangling it -- takes on a more insidious tone.
"Calling women leaders by their first name is often done to undercut their authority," explains Karrin Vasby Anderson, a professor of communications at Colorado State University.
As for the pronunciation, some believe Trump is attempting to "other" Harris -- and remind his supporters that her father was from Jamaica and her mother emigrated from India.
That impression becomes more pointed when created by a presidential candidate who often deploys racist and violent rhetoric against migrants, especially during an election with a growing gender divide, said AFP.
"It's noteworthy that Trump often mispronounces her name for humorous effect, tacitly implying that the notion of a Black woman with South Asian heritage running for president is worthy of ridicule," Anderson says.
"But it's also interesting that he not only mispronounces it, but he makes the claim that she doesn't know how to pronounce her own name. It's the ultimate mansplain."
'La-la-la-la-la'
Harris has turned Trump's attacks around, however -- making a point of both celebrating her first name and emphasizing how to pronounce it.
When Biden withdrew from the race in July, endorsing Harris, the campaign team's account on X swiftly changed from "Biden HQ" to "Kamala HQ."
At rallies, "Kamala" signs are waved side by side with "Harris Walz" posters, referring to her running mate Tim Walz.
In Washington on Tuesday evening, tens of thousands of people chanted the name as Harris delivered a major address with the White House lit up in the background -- creating a contrast between the solemnity of the moment and an almost affectionate note.
As for the pronunciation, the 60-year-old vice president's two great-nieces took to the stage at the Democratic National Convention in August to explain how it's done with the help of Emmy-winning actress Kerry Washington.
The trio divided the crowd up, with one side chanting "Kama" -- "like a comma in a sentence," and the other responding "la" -- "like la-la-la-la-la."
Some Harris campaign signs even read ",LA" -- a cheeky reference to the pronunciation.
Harris's first name has another version: "Momala" -- the nickname given to Harris by her stepchildren, Ella and Cole Emhoff.
'Madam President'
After Biden's dramatic decision to drop out of the race, Harris entered late and with a lack of notoriety. Making herself known by her first name is one strategy among others to bridge the gap.
It's a trick that has been used often by American politicians to create their public persona.
Progressive US Senator Bernie Sanders is often referred to by his first name, and Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg is widely known as "Mayor Pete" in reference to his former title in South Bend, Indiana.
Going by Kamala also allows Harris to sow hints of her unusual background -- and the potentially historic nature of her presidency.
"She does not need to explicitly remind people that she's a woman or that she's a Black and South Asian woman," says Kelly Dittmar, professor of political science at Rutgers University.
"She represents a kind of approach to identity in political campaigning that ... just doesn't need to be explicit."
As for the mansplaining, Harris's husband Doug Emhoff, who hopes to become the first ever First Gentleman, had a pithy comeback.
"Mr. Trump, I know you have so much trouble pronouncing her name," Emhoff said during a campaign event in August.
"Here's the good news. After the election, you can just call her Madam President."