In the Valley of Memory
Writing in the Margins 2025 photo honourable mention After a lifetime of connecting to homeland through food and story in the diaspora, I finally walked my ancestral lands of Lebanon last summer. I was eager to engage with the land, trees, food, and plants for their rooted, life-giving spirit, but also their politicized and sentimental associations. The 2024 war on Lebanon caused mass displacement, disrupting the olive harvest season for many, including my great uncle/honourary jiddo in Qaraoun, Beqaa Valley. The olives remained unpicked, he told us, as we drove through the landscape in 2025 to visit his 200 olive trees planted in patches decades ago. Lamenting that it was not olive season yet, we walked through one of the orchards—all of us cousins taking his lead as jiddo harvested handfuls of figs to share with the family, like my mom had done before me. I beamed at the taste, savouring the ritual and the shade of the trees. A small blue oasis was visible from where we stood: Lake Qaraoun. We learned that the lake was the lowest it had ever been and what was once a destination for fishing and picnics was now polluted. Down the road, the community well was empty and the canal which usually flows water from the Litani River to Lake Qaraoun was vast and dry. The effects of climate change, rising temperatures, and record-breaking drought were seen and felt. In other areas—particularly the South—this was compounded with ongoing Israeli occupation, white phosphorus attacks, and the destruction of more than 60,000 ancient olive trees, as well as fruit trees and grapevines. I use photography in other parts of Lebanon to story the land and trace interconnected histories through collective terms in the struggle for liberation and justice as the people face ecological mismanagement/assault, government neglect, and the Zionist entity. By last summer, half of the villages in Beqaa Valley had already experienced damage. As aggression ramps up through 2026, the struggle for food sovereignty and land sovereignty remain a root concern. This work of autoethnographic documentary photography captures familial relationships with land to explore agricultural intimacies and find my way through an unknown home. Traversing the land reflects my emotional landscape, searching for answers, wandering while being led. Analogue film captures quotidian gestures through a nostalgic lens, imposing stillness and remembrance. The use of long looking and diaristic recording approaches small moments as monuments of becoming, honouring the fruits and trees—which have tangibly become more precious in all of Lebanon, as farmers report low yields, violence continues, and access to one’s land is not always possible. Unripe Olives, 2025. Dry Canal, 2025. Harvesting Figs, 2025. Walking to the Trees, 2025. To learn more about Israeli agricultural attacks on Lebanon and how artists in South Lebanon are responding, read Christina Hajjar's article, "Holding Olives: Preserving Culture in Times of War.” *This photo essay was the honourable mention of the photography category of our 15th annual Writing in the Margins contest, judged by Joshua Best. We gratefully acknowledge the financial support of the Regina Public Interest Research Group (RPIRG) for this year’s contest.
Black News 
Writing in the Margins 2025 photo honourable mention
After a lifetime of connecting to homeland through food and story in the diaspora, I finally walked my ancestral lands of Lebanon last summer. I was eager to engage with the land, trees, food, and plants for their rooted, life-giving spirit, but also their politicized and sentimental associations.
The 2024 war on Lebanon caused mass displacement, disrupting the olive harvest season for many, including my great uncle/honourary jiddo in Qaraoun, Beqaa Valley. The olives remained unpicked, he told us, as we drove through the landscape in 2025 to visit his 200 olive trees planted in patches decades ago. Lamenting that it was not olive season yet, we walked through one of the orchards—all of us cousins taking his lead as jiddo harvested handfuls of figs to share with the family, like my mom had done before me.
I beamed at the taste, savouring the ritual and the shade of the trees. A small blue oasis was visible from where we stood: Lake Qaraoun. We learned that the lake was the lowest it had ever been and what was once a destination for fishing and picnics was now polluted. Down the road, the community well was empty and the canal which usually flows water from the Litani River to Lake Qaraoun was vast and dry. The effects of climate change, rising temperatures, and record-breaking drought were seen and felt.
In other areas—particularly the South—this was compounded with ongoing Israeli occupation, white phosphorus attacks, and the destruction of more than 60,000 ancient olive trees, as well as fruit trees and grapevines. I use photography in other parts of Lebanon to story the land and trace interconnected histories through collective terms in the struggle for liberation and justice as the people face ecological mismanagement/assault, government neglect, and the Zionist entity. By last summer, half of the villages in Beqaa Valley had already experienced damage. As aggression ramps up through 2026, the struggle for food sovereignty and land sovereignty remain a root concern.
This work of autoethnographic documentary photography captures familial relationships with land to explore agricultural intimacies and find my way through an unknown home. Traversing the land reflects my emotional landscape, searching for answers, wandering while being led. Analogue film captures quotidian gestures through a nostalgic lens, imposing stillness and remembrance. The use of long looking and diaristic recording approaches small moments as monuments of becoming, honouring the fruits and trees—which have tangibly become more precious in all of Lebanon, as farmers report low yields, violence continues, and access to one’s land is not always possible.
Unripe Olives, 2025.
Dry Canal, 2025.
Harvesting Figs, 2025.
Walking to the Trees, 2025.
To learn more about Israeli agricultural attacks on Lebanon and how artists in South Lebanon are responding, read Christina Hajjar's article, "Holding Olives: Preserving Culture in Times of War.”
*This photo essay was the honourable mention of the photography category of our 15th annual Writing in the Margins contest, judged by Joshua Best. We gratefully acknowledge the financial support of the Regina Public Interest Research Group (RPIRG) for this year’s contest.
