La Via Campesina Delegation Visited Palestine in December 2024: Notes from their Daily Diaries [ Part 1 ]

From December 8 to 18, 2024, a delegation of nine peasant-farmers traveled to Palestine, in the West Bank. All their organizations are part of the international peasant movement La Via Campesina, which also includes the Palestinian organization UAWC (Union of Agricultural Work Committees) as a member. For many years, La Via Campesina has stood in solidarity with Palestinian peasants in their struggle against colonization, land and water grabs, and the numerous human rights violations they endure. However, since 2023, the scale of massacres in Gaza and the openly genocidal intentions of the far-right Israeli government have led La Via Campesina to intensify its solidarity work with Palestinian farmers. Organizing a delegation visit to the West Bank thus gradually became an imperative. Due to the obstacles posed by the Israeli state for accessing Palestinian territories, all delegates were European, hailing from the Basque Country, Galicia, Italy, Portugal, Ireland, and France. We, Fanny and Morgan, are both small-scale farmers, based in Ardèche and Brittany, and members of the Confédération Paysanne. The following texts are our journal from these ten days, which profoundly changed our lives and worldview. [ Access all the diary notes here].

Day 1: Entering Palestine
Traveling to Palestine is not a “typical” trip. Starting in September, we held several meetings with the UAWC to prepare for our journey. It was decided that the delegation would enter partly via Amman airport and the Jordan Valley, and partly via Tel Aviv airport.
On Sunday, December 8, Fanny and I met at Roissy airport in France. I attempted to check us in for the flight that morning: I managed to get the boarding pass from Paris to Prague but not from Prague to Tel Aviv. At the counter, airline staff checked our luggage through to Ben Gurion Airport but told us we’d need to go to Prague to find out if we’d be allowed to board for Israel. So, we boarded the first flight, uncertain whether our journey would reach its intended destination.
In Prague, check-in went smoothly. After passing through heightened security screening, we waited for our flight, surrounded mostly by Israeli passengers. A few hours later, we arrived in Tel Aviv at 4 a.m.
As we disembarked, we were greeted by advertisements promoting solidarity between Christians and Jews. Then, in the main terminal corridor, portraits of Israeli hostages were displayed. We walked toward the checkpoint. The vast majority of passengers headed for the counters designated for Israeli passport holders. Only a handful of us moved toward the counters for foreigners. Fanny and I were nervous. Would we get through? Would they send us back?
The interrogation wasn’t very long, but those minutes felt excruciating. The customs officer was suspicious, and we couldn’t say we were going to Palestine. Luckily, we had a hotel reservation in Jerusalem. After several questions, she returned my passport with a visa. Fanny was waiting for me. We collected our luggage, relieved.
Outside the terminal, Saïd was waiting for us. He is a friend of the UAWC and a Jerusalem resident, which allows him—unlike other Palestinians—to enter Israeli territory using a car with yellow license plates. This is a key aspect of the apartheid system in Israel/Palestine. Israelis have yellow license plates, granting them the right to travel in Israel, Jerusalem, and the occupied West Bank. Palestinians have white license plates, which bar them from entering Israel, Jerusalem, and even East Jerusalem, which is supposed to be part of Palestinian territories. However, there is a specific category of Palestinians, residents of Jerusalem, who have yellow plates and a special ID card. A Kafkaesque system of authorized and prohibited roads, barriers, and numerous checkpoints completes this structure.
Saïd drove us quickly along the roads reserved for yellow-plated cars toward Jerusalem. Just before reaching the city, we turned off. Ramallah lies about ten kilometers north of Jerusalem. If not for the Wall, the two cities would touch. We passed a checkpoint without being stopped—easier in this direction—and crossed to the other side of the Wall. The roads became rougher. Dawn was breaking over Ramallah. We had arrived in Palestine.
Saïd took us to the apartment where all the other delegates had arrived the previous evening. It was six o’clock. Quickly, we needed to rest—“tomorrow” began at 7 a.m.

Day 2: Ramallah
We come across piles of rubble, houses destroyed and ravaged by Israeli bulldozers. We visit the ruins of an enormous villa with a basement swimming pool. The atmosphere is chilling. Jamal tells us: “The Palestinian cause is not a humanitarian cause. Palestinians are not poor. We do not want charity; we want justice.”
After barely an hour of sleep, wrapped in heavy blankets, we feel movement next to us—it’s time to get up. At 900 meters above sea level, Ramallah is cold in December, and homes are rarely heated. Morgan and I are far from fresh as we meet the comrades from La Via Campesina with whom we’ll be sharing this large attic apartment.
There’s Ollie from Ireland, Pier and Elisa from Italy, Kelo and Malu from the Basque Country, Dora from Galicia, and Carlos from Portugal. Conversations flow in English with all sorts of accents, and occasionally in Basque, Spanish, or Italian. We share our first breakfast: pita bread, hummus, and za’atar (a mix of roasted sesame seeds, sumac, and oregano) blended with olive oil. The view overlooks sunlit hills covered in imposing white and gray buildings with large water tanks and reservoirs perched on their rooftops. It quickly becomes clear that water is a huge challenge.
Mustapha picks us up in a minibus to take us to the UAWC headquarters.
There, we meet Fuad, the director, and a warm team that includes the incredible Sana, Aghsan, and Tamam, who will accompany us throughout our stay.
Together, we head to meet leaders of civil society organizations united within the PNGO network.
After introductions, the coalition’s director, Amjad Shawwa, speaks to us via video call from Deir al-Balah in central Gaza and explains the situation to us.
75,000 people are currently in the northern part of Gaza, without food or humanitarian aid for the past two months. They have been displaced three or four times. Seventy percent of those killed are women and children. Seventy percent of the hospitals are no longer functioning. The food crisis is unmanageable: in the Gaza Strip, crops such as citrus fruits, oranges, grapes, guavas, and strawberries were previously produced. All these crops have been destroyed, and famine has now taken hold. Before October 7, 700 to 800 trucks crossed the border daily; today, only 30 to 40 trucks are allowed through, which accounts for just 5% of daily needs. NGOs are doing what they can to help the people.
One testimony after another denounces colonization, imperialism, and Zionist racist ideology. Civil society leaders say Palestinians have lost hope in the international community and international law. They appreciate the solidarity expressed by social movements worldwide but no longer trust governments, especially European ones.
They call for solidarity to transform into actionable pressure: “Solidarity should not be charity; it must become action to end your states’ complicity. Change requires a total arms embargo, a boycott of Israel, and strong, firm sanctions.”
There’s also discussion of a potential international conference in support of Palestine and of when delegations like ours might finally be able to visit Gaza to bear witness.
Amjad concludes with: “We demand justice for the victims, and we want to dream and believe that Palestinian land will become green again and that fishermen will once more see the sea.”
In the early afternoon, we meet with the Minister of Agriculture. On the way, we stop by Yasser Arafat’s tomb, where Fuad recounts his journey, the hope he inspired among Palestinians, and the mistakes he made. For Morgan and me, this brings to mind the 2002 visit by La Via Campesina delegates to Ramallah, when some, including Paul Nicholson—a Basque farmer and movement leader at the time—served as human shields for Arafat at his headquarters during an intense Israeli offensive.
Next, we visit a store selling products from farmers supported by the UAWC. I can’t remember the names of all the culinary specialties, but as farmers ourselves, we were all curious to learn the secrets of transforming and preserving foods, like labneh cheese balls in olive oil.

We’re received by Rezeq Salimia, the Minister of Agriculture, along with several officials and representatives.
He explains that Palestine has the potential to be largely self-sufficient in food production, as it once was, particularly in vegetables, poultry, olive oil, and dates. The same was true for fishing, much of which was centered in Gaza.
But the occupation, blockade, and repeated assaults have devastated the sector, which has been entirely inoperative since October 7.
In the West Bank, too, the situation has worsened significantly since October 7, with the expansion of settlements, the confiscation of agricultural lands, blocked access roads, and settlers directly attacking farmers during their daily work. This has forced a shift in agricultural policies to respond to the emergency.
A major challenge is ensuring access to water through small-scale water storage projects and modern irrigation techniques, especially for horticultural production. Improving irrigation efficiency could boost production and reduce the exodus of workers to Israel.
Reforestation projects are also underway to restore greenery to Palestine.
But, as the minister says: “The problem is the occupation—the seizure of land and water, the destruction, and attacks on property and people. Without occupation, we would be ready for food sovereignty.”

But, as the minister says: “The problem is the occupation—the seizure of land and water, the destruction, and attacks on property and people. Without occupation, we would be ready for food sovereignty.”
He reminds us that 65% of agricultural land is in Area C and that every time farmers go to their fields, they face real risks of being stopped, attacked, or even killed. He emphasizes the importance of having international volunteers present to deter violence and enable farmers to work.
The day continues with a meeting with Jamal from the “Stop the Wall” association. He immediately suggests taking us to see the situation for ourselves.

No lengthy speeches are needed when standing before the Wall, facing a fractured landscape divided by massive concrete barriers, watchtowers, barbed wire, and fences stretching over 700 km, separating Palestine and protecting Israel.
The Wall inevitably brings to mind the fall of the Berlin Wall. I remember feeling the significance of that event as a child, naively believing such madness was a thing of the past. We also think of Mexico and the anti-migrant walls in Hungary, Bulgaria, and Calais.
Jamal points to a new settlement on the opposite hill, explaining how the nearby Palestinian neighborhood is completely isolated, ghettoized between the Wall, settlements, and checkpoints.
We see Jerusalem in the distance, so close to Ramallah. Sana explains that she is forbidden from going there and has never been able to visit. Palestinians in the West Bank also cannot access the sea, even though it’s just a few dozen kilometers away.
We come across more rubble and destroyed homes, bulldozed by Israeli forces. We visit the ruins of a vast villa with a basement swimming pool. The mosaic remains intact. The atmosphere is chilling.
Jamal says: “The Palestinian cause is not a humanitarian cause. Palestinians are not poor. We do not want charity; we want justice.”
Amidst the Wall, the ruins, and old and new Palestinian neighborhoods, there are olive trees everywhere, children playing in the sunset, stray dogs, and a few sheep.
At dusk, we wander through a ghost neighborhood near the Wall, where homes, shops, and workshops have been abandoned. Two men descend from a ladder leaning against the Wall. They seem used to climbing over it—more than 8 meters high—probably to work in Israel, risking their lives. If spotted by an Israeli soldier, they face years in prison at best or being shot at worst.
Here, the expression “breaking through the wall” takes on its full, grim meaning in the face of apartheid. In the middle of this collapse, one inhabited house surrounded by greenery stands as a small oasis of resistance. It feels like stepping into a very dark dystopian novel.

Back in central Ramallah, night falls quickly in winter. The slender minarets, like lances pointed toward the sky, glow with a strange green light against the horizon.
We end the day with shawarma at the Palestinian Popular Art Center’s dance school, where Aghsan dances. The director shows us excerpts from their new performance, in which dancers reinterpret traditional choreographies in costume.
With her slender frame, long brown hair, and deep black eyes, Aghsan stands out as the most stunning to me. She embodies a dignified and strong youth, proud of her identity.
TO BE CONTINUED.