Zeit Badodeya Marah Siyam
11:34 North Jersey / Home
7:12 Masjid
“Get ready we are going to pick up the oil.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sure your mom was immensely proud of you. If you ever want to come here and see how your mom and I used to make the olive oil she picked up only a month ago for you, you are very welcome habibti.”
“Mom, it’s a 45-minute drive can’t I just stay home and do homework?” “Get in the car and go tell your Dad to give you a hundred dollars.”
“Thank you Um Khaled, maybe I will next year when the olives are ready.”
“Fine.”
11:34 Grandfather’s Olive Orchard / Golden Heights
12:19 Post Office / Zeit pick up / Central Jersey
“Shams! You’re here, the olives are ready for you and it seems like your mom sent down rain just so that you’ll get the best batch for your first-time making olive oil the traditional way.”
“Salam, what’s your last name?” “Mohammad. We have three tanks.” “Yes, right here, enjoy.”
“Can I use this basket to pick the olives Um Khaled? The flowers on it are so pretty.”
“Thank you, Salam.” “Anytime Khalto. In fact, you are one of the last people to still come and pick up Zeit Badodeya.”
“Of course, you can, it's the same one your mom used to choose because the flowers on it were so pretty.”
“Wow, that’s sad it seems we are one of the last villages to still burn our olives before squeezing the oil.” 2:56 North Jersey / Home “Smell it daughter, it’s as if we can smell the hands of Um Khaled and the fire burning behind her.” “It’s oil mom.” “I need to take you back to see the process with the experience of coming home smelling like burnt olives, then taking off your clothes to air out outside, then eating lunch with everyone that’s been in the fields with you all week. You won’t understand, but you will one day, InshAllah.”
Photo by Aya Saleh
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