I have no intention of selling my farm to a private farmer or even to a family.
I want to sell my land to a public farmer who will take it over.
I don’t want to live in a state of fear or poverty.
I will do whatever I can to make sure that my land is given to the right people.
I’m not afraid to speak out.
I am a self-proclaimed farmer and I am part of a group of Palestinians living in Hebron.
I am proud of my farming and my farming skills.
I have seen firsthand how farmers from different communities are able to live side by side.
I was a farmer for 25 years, and my farm is full of fruits and vegetables.
I have the utmost respect for my land and I’m determined to protect it.
But I have decided to stop farming and focus on my business.
The only reason I am still alive is that I was able to keep it going, I had enough to eat.
I want to start a small business, a bakery or an agricultural production and retail business in the future.
I think it will be better for the country if there are people like me.
I grew up with the values of the Palestinian people.
I learned from my father, who was a Palestinian soldier.
He worked in the fields, and I remember he was the kind of man who would not leave his home.
He didn’t want anyone to forget him.
I remember him saying, “My son is like a rock.
He will always stand up for the land and the Palestinian family.”
He was my father.
My family has been in the village since the early 1900s.
My father was the youngest of nine children.
His mother was an illiterate housewife.
My parents worked together, and they taught me everything they knew.
I grew up in an atmosphere of fear.
I learned from the Palestinians, I grew to respect them.
They were very kind.
I wanted to be like them and they wanted me to be their son.
They taught me that I had a duty to defend them, that they were my brothers.
I started selling fruit and vegetables in Hebra.
I did not know what I was doing, but it was the beginning of a very fruitful and fulfilling life.
It was the first time I was selling anything and I started to get very interested in the business.
I got the idea to make my own bread.
I sold my first loaf and made more.
It was a great experience.
I bought land and began growing vegetables and fruits.
I also worked as a shepherd, and a young shepherd was born on my land.
We were both very proud and happy, and we decided to start our own family business.
We bought a plot and started cultivating tomatoes, onions, lettuce, herbs and peppers.
In the early 1990s, I was offered the chance to start my own family farm.
I turned it down.
It would have been a very good experience, but I had to leave.
I felt so guilty because I felt guilty about the way I had treated my Palestinian neighbors and the Israelis who had taken over my land for so long.
I didn’t like to leave my land, but the way it was treated was wrong.
I had no choice.
The Israeli government made it impossible for me to leave Hebron and to start the business, so I ended up moving to a small town in Jordan.
I found work in a bakery and eventually decided to sell fruit and produce.
I would still sell vegetables, but there was a certain type of produce that was difficult to find in Hebror, especially because the market was very crowded.
I began to see that this market was a place of joy for Palestinians.
People would come to buy their produce and they would also bring home their kids.
I realized that I would love this market.
I was born into a Palestinian family and I came to Hebron with my mother, father and brother.
I saw them in the market.
They would come in and buy their vegetables, and when I asked them how they lived and how they loved their land, they would say, “I love the people in Hebrol.
They’re our people, they are our brothers and sisters.”
I would go to the market, buy my vegetables, buy fruits and flowers, and give to the people.
The Palestinian people gave me everything I needed and gave me hope.
The first time that I saw my own children, they were little and I saw that they also loved the people and that they cared about the land.
They saw that it was a beautiful place, and the place was theirs.
I knew that they would be able to do well here, but for the first year or so, they had a difficult time.
They didn’t have a job, they couldn’t afford to eat, and sometimes they would fall sick.
I never understood how they managed to survive.
They lived off of the kindness of their neighbors and I had little contact with them.
I still remember the days