In this land… A Song of Culture “Nineteen”

In the land of olive trees,

where the food tell’s centuries of stories,

each scent a testament,

to rich traditions, to passions that run deep,

like the veins in the hands of their grandmothers,

kneading dough, making bread,

baking history into every bite.

The aroma of za’atar,

its wild essence mingling with the morning air,

a scent that awakens not just hunger,

but memory,

of fields untamed,

of hills where thyme grows free,

like their spirits.

The warmth of freshly baked bread,

saj rolling out like ancient scrolls,

whispering the language of their ancestors,

each fold a chapter,

each tear a testament,

to lands tilled by hands calloused,

by labor, by love.

Hummus, creamy and rich,

a symphony of flavours,

garlic and lemon, tahini and chickpeas,

blended into a harmony,

that sings of gatherings,

of laughter echoing in the courtyards,

of children’s hands dipping,

learning heritage through taste.

Mansaf, the pride of their feasts,

a dish heavy with tradition,

lamb tender from hours of patience,

rice golden from saffron’s kiss,

a meal that speaks of hospitality,

of doors always open,

of hearts as generous as the servings.

In the sweetness of knafeh,

there is the bittersweet,

a balance of textures,

like the stories of their people,

crisp on the outside,

soft and resilient within,

drenched in the syrup of perseverance.

Their food, a tapestry,

woven with threads of land and time,

a culinary map of exile and connection,

of longing and belonging,

where each dish tells a story,

of villages past,

of families gathered,

of a people unbroken.

From the simplest bowl of lentil soup,

to the grandest spread of makloubeh,

they eat not just for sustenance,

but for celebration,

for the tastes of home,

for the flavours that define them,

in the face of adversity,

they share their identity,

with every meal,

with every bite,

they are here with us,

they endure for us.