Iraq's Ancient 'Palm Climbers' Struggle for Survival

Iraqi farmers inspect palm trees in Iraq's southern port city of Al-Faw. (AFP)
Iraqi farmers inspect palm trees in Iraq's southern port city of Al-Faw. (AFP)
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Iraq's Ancient 'Palm Climbers' Struggle for Survival

Iraqi farmers inspect palm trees in Iraq's southern port city of Al-Faw. (AFP)
Iraqi farmers inspect palm trees in Iraq's southern port city of Al-Faw. (AFP)

Under the autumn Iraqi sun, Abbas Abbud expertly scrambles up the ragged trunk of the palm tree. His mission? Picking the juicy dates overhead, and keeping this ancient profession alive.

At 48, he is the last of several generations of "palm climbers," the nickname given to the community that has harvested southern Iraq's date palms for the past 6,000 years.

But decades of back-to-back wars, climate change and little support for farming communities have turned Iraq's iconic date palms and their harvesters into a rare breed.

"We spend more than ten days on one palm field, but in recent years the numbers of trees and fields have decreased, affecting our jobs," says Abbud.

Every year, from October to December, he climbs into a harness, machete in hand, to slash dates from palms up to 23 meters (75 feet) tall.

Cutting one palm earns him a mere 2,000 Iraqi dinars, or less than two US dollars.

With poverty rates expected to reach 40 percent this year, Abbud can't afford to skip the date season in Iraq's farming heartland of Diwaniyah province.

One of his biggest clients is the Kariz family, which owns some 4,000 palms of different varieties.

"Ever since I can remember, we've had vast date fields," says Herban Kariz, 69, the family patriarch.

He strolls through rows of palms, under which workers have placed large stretches of tarp to catch the bouquets of yellow and caramel-colored dates cut from tree tops.

"We always held reunions for the harvest -- it's been a family tradition since childhood," he tells AFP.

Dates in danger
Under former ruler Saddam Hussein, the Iraqi state purchased dates from farmers at a price higher than the market rates, then packaged, marketed and exported them as far afield as the United States.

The era is remembered as the golden age of Iraq's date industry.

Today, palms number less than half of the 30 million that dotted the country just two decades ago, says Mohammed Kashash, the head of Diwaniyah's farming cooperatives.

He blames the virtually ceaseless armed conflicts in Iraq, a struggling economy and insufficient government support.

"As the state doesn't support us, production and sales are down," Kashash tells AFP.

Iraqi farmers say they can no longer compete on the world market, where mass-produced dates from the Gulf packaged as luxury items are sold for around $3,500 per ton.

With local production so low, Iraq is faced with a reality its farmers would have never imagined: imported dates.

Varieties from the Gulf or Iran have flooded Iraq's markets, frustrating local producers and pickers.

"We demand the state establish new processing plants and revive the old ones to package the dates," Kashash says.

For palm climber Abbud, the important thing is being able to climb, cut and return to the ground safe and sound.

Last year, his father died after falling from a palm tree, but Abbud chose to carry on the family tradition as a cutter, even as the industry falters.

Now, sitting comfortably atop a date tree, he looks out over a golden sun setting over endless Iraqi palms -- and perhaps on his inherited livelihood.



Israel's Bedouin Communities Use Solar Energy to Stake Claim to Land

This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert Photo: Menahem KAHANA
This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert Photo: Menahem KAHANA
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Israel's Bedouin Communities Use Solar Energy to Stake Claim to Land

This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert Photo: Menahem KAHANA
This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert Photo: Menahem KAHANA

At the end of a dusty road in southern Israel, beyond a Bedouin village of unfinished houses and the shiny dome of a mosque, a field of solar panels gleams in the hot desert sun.

Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's Negev desert is the home of the Tirabin (also spelled Tarabin) Bedouin tribe, who signed a contract with an Israeli solar energy company to build the installation.

The deal has helped provide jobs for the community as well as promote cleaner, cheaper energy for the country, as the power produced is pumped into the national grid.

Earlier this month, the Al-Ghanami family in the town of Abu Krinat a little further south inaugurated a similar field of solar panels.
Bedouin families have for years tried and failed to hold on to their lands, coming up against right-wing groups and hardline government officials.

Demolition orders issued by Israeli authorities plague Bedouin villages, threatening the traditionally semi-nomadic communities with forced eviction.

But Yosef Abramowitz, co-chair of the non-profit organisation Shamsuna, said solar field projects help them to stake a more definitive claim.
"It secures their land rights forever," he told AFP.

"It's the only way to settle the Bedouin land issue and secure 100 percent renewable energy," he added, calling it a "win, win".

For the solar panels to be built, the land must be registered as part of the Bedouin village, strengthening their claim over it.

Roughly 300,000 Bedouins live in the Negev desert, half of them in places such as Tirabin al-Sana, including some 110,000 who reside in villages not officially recognised by the government.

This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert
This aerial view shows solar panels at an electricity-generation plant for the Bedouin community in the village of Tirabin al-Sana in Israel's southern Negev desert Photo: Menahem KAHANA
Villages that are not formally recognied are fighting the biggest battle to stay on the land.

Far-right groups, some backed by the current government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, have stepped up efforts in the past two years to drive these families away.
A sharp increase in home demolitions has left the communities vulnerable and whole families without a roof over their heads.

"Since 2023, more than 8,500 buildings have been demolished in these unrecognized villages," Marwan Abu Frieh, from the legal aid organization Adalah, told AFP at a recent protest in Beersheva, the largest city in the Negev.

"Within these villages, thousands of families are now living out in the open, an escalation the Negev has not witnessed in perhaps the last two decades."

Tribes just want to "live in peace and dignity", following their distinct customs and traditions, he said.

Gil Yasur, who also works with Shamsuna developing critical infrastructure in Bedouin villages, said land claims issues were common among Bedouins across the Negev.
Families who include a solar project on their land, however, stand a better chance of securing it, he added.

"Then everyone will benefit -- the landowners, the country, the Negev," he said. "This is the best way to move forward to a green economy."

In Um Batin, a recognised village, residents are using solar energy in a different way –- to power a local kindergarten all year round.

Until last year, the village relied on power from a diesel generator that polluted the air and the ground where the children played.

Now, a hulking solar panel shields the children from the sun as its surface sucks up the powerful rays, keeping the kindergarten in full working order.

"It was not clean or comfortable here before," said Nama Abu Kaf, who works in the kindergarten.
"Now we have air conditioning and a projector so the children can watch television."

Hani al-Hawashleh, who oversees the project on behalf of Shamsuna, said the solar energy initiative for schools and kindergartens was "very positive".

"Without power you can't use all kinds of equipment such as projectors, lights in the classrooms and, on the other hand, it saves costs and uses clean energy," he said.

The projects are part of a pilot scheme run by Shamsuna.

Asked if there was interest in expanding to other educational institutions that rely on polluting generators, he said there were challenges and bureaucracy but he hoped to see more.

"We need people to collaborate with us to move this forward," he said, adding that he would "love to see a solar energy system in every village".