Rediscovering Safuriyah’s Landscape: The Echoes of Displacement and Ecological Transformation
Words by Ghayad Khatib
“Each tree, each stone had a place in our hearts,” remembered a former resident of Safuriyah, a Palestinian village that once thrived on the rolling hills of Lower Galilee. Before 1948, Safuriyah was a vibrant mosaic of orchards, native vegetation, and wildlife. Nestled in fertile land with a favorable climate, the village was sustained by an intricate relationship between agriculture, natural resources, and local traditions. Orchards of pomegranates, figs, olives, and citrus fruits enriched the community, while the songs of kestrels, hoopoes, and nightingales filled the air.
However, following the Nakba, Safuriyah’s landscape changed dramatically. After the villagers were displaced, foreign pine trees were deliberately planted across the land to conceal the village’s remains. “Where once our olive trees grew, there are now tall pine trees that we do not recognize,” another resident lamented, describing the rapid spread of these new forests, which overshadowed the land and silenced its native diversity.
This article examines how these ecological shifts, driven by afforestation and the introduction of invasive species, transformed Safuriyah’s landscape, reflecting broader patterns of cultural erasure. The replacement of native flora with non-native species mirrored the displacement of the community itself, reshaping both the land and its history. Safuriyah’s transformation serves as a testament to how environmental changes can become tools for rewriting the natural and cultural identity of a place, layering its landscape with the marks of displacement and loss.
The Historical Landscape of Safuriyah: Life in the Heart of Galilee
“Safuriyah was our home, and the land was our family,” remembered one former resident. “Each tree, each stone had a place in our hearts. You couldn’t walk through the village without being reminded of the work and love that built it.” Safuriyah, nestled in the hills of Lower Galilee, was more than a place. It was a legacy passed down through generations who had cultivated, tended, and celebrated its land. Rising about 110 meters above the surrounding plains, Safuriyah’s strategic position not only provided natural protection but also granted a scenic view across the valley, a landscape that connected people as much as it sustained them.
“Safuriyah was our home, and the land was our family, each tree, each stone had a place in our hearts. You couldn’t walk through the village without being reminded of the work and love that built it.”
Before 1948, life in Saffuriyeh unfolded harmoniously in rhythm with the seasons and nature’s offerings. “When August came, the clouds would paint the sky, and as children, we would gaze for hours, imagining shapes like sheep, camels, and even giants,” another villager recalled. This deep connection with the environment defined Safuriyah, from its orchards to its fields, shaping both the culture and daily lives of its people. Villagers like to say that “Safuriyah breathed with us,” and they meant it. Each harvest, each planting season, bound the community in shared memories, a living heritage embedded in the soil and the cycles of the earth.
An Abundant Landscape: Trees, Fields, and the Fruits of the Earth
The fields surrounding Safuriyah were a mosaic of crops and orchards, offering everything from grains and vegetables to figs, olives, and quinces. The land itself, fed by springs and a series of qanat systems, was divided to meet both communal and personal needs. Close to the water sources, farmers planted water-intensive vegetables like tomatoes, cucumbers, and cabbage, while farther from the springs, fields of wheat and barley stretched into the distance. The native soil was generous, and each plant seemed to have a place in the community's story.
One resident remembered the seasonal fruits as markers of time: “Safuriyah was famous for its pomegranates. We would harvest them each year with care, knowing that these trees were gifts from our ancestors. When taken to markets in Nazareth or Haifa, vendors would call out, ‘Safuriyya, oh pomegranates!’ to honor where they came from.” Pomegranates were not the only treasures of Safuriyah’s fields; mulberries, quinces, citrus fruits, and olives were all part of the agricultural richness that sustained life and connected the community to the land. Each tree, each field, was tended with knowledge passed down across generations, creating a self-sufficient cycle that ensured no one went without.
Nature and Culture Intertwined
Safuriyah’s people had a deep understanding of the land’s ecosystem, which was reflected in their cultivation and gathering practices. Wild plants, from edible greens to medicinal herbs, were woven into daily life. Mallow (ملوخية), a leafy vegetable central to village cooking, was sold in nearby markets with a call of “Safuriyya, oh mallow!” Villagers also gathered native herbs like wild thyme (za'tar), chicory, and bitter lettuce, blending them into both food and medicine, as had been done for centuries. This harmony with the landscape made every plant, from olive tree to thyme shrub, a part of Safuriyah’s identity and resilience.
In this abundance, birds played an important role, and villagers grew up with the songs of local species filling the air. “Every dawn, the nightingales would sing from the almond trees,” one resident remembered. “The goldfinches and hoopoes, too, they were like family to us, returning to the same branches each season.” The birds were more than just background sounds; they symbolized the village’s unity with nature and their reliance on the stability of this shared environment.
Life Rooted in Tradition and Memory
Each family, field, and grove had a story. The village paths led from one neighbor’s home to another, winding past cactus walls and ancient olive trees. “Our path to the Khalidiyyat took us west past the Rashads’ house, then past the homes of the al-Aziris and the Abu Shaqras,” a villager recounted. “We knew the land around each bend, each grove of trees by heart.” Safuriyah was not merely a village but a network of families interwoven with the landscape, where each neighbor was as familiar as the fruit trees they tended. Fields and grazing lands, like the pond area near Abu Sahn and the fertile ground of al-Duwar, were shared spaces, where seasonal gatherings and agricultural events marked time and bound people together in communal memory.
Safuriyah’s culture was steeped in traditions that celebrated both the land and its people. The olive harvest each autumn was a communal event, bringing families together to press oil that would sustain them through the winter. “Each autumn, we would gather to harvest the olives, using our hands to pull them down from the branches, and it felt as though we were bringing the year’s worth of work to a beautiful conclusion,” another villager shared. The olive press was a place of gathering, laughter, and stories, where villagers shared not only the work but the wisdom passed down from those who came before.
The Village and Its Strategic Role in Galilee
Safuriyah’s location on the trade routes connecting the Galilee to coastal cities made it an economic hub – a place where goods, stories, and people converged. From as early as the Roman and Byzantine eras, the village had served as a point of transit, with its own amphitheater, Byzantine basilicas, and storied roads. This centrality only deepened under the Ottoman Empire and British Mandate, as Safuriyah grew into one of the largest villages in the Nazareth district, where farmers, artisans, and traders lived in close connection to the land and one another. The village’s geographic and economic importance bound it not only to its local terrain but to the broader history of Galilee, a place marked by centuries of civilization.
The Vegetation of Safuriyah: A Landscape Transformed
Before the Nakba, Safuriyah’s fields and orchards were not only a source of food but a testament to the village’s deep-rooted connection to the land. The fertile landscape supported a self-sustaining community, where generations of farmers grew fruits, vegetables, and grains, each crop a legacy of knowledge handed down over centuries. Orchards of olive trees, some said to be hundreds of years old, stretched across the hillsides, while figs, pomegranates, quinces, and citrus trees provided seasonal abundance, their fruits cherished locally and sold in nearby markets. These trees held special meaning, their annual harvests representing both sustenance and continuity. “When we shook the olive trees each autumn, it felt like we were reaching back through time,” one villager remembered. “We harvested as our parents did, as theirs did before them. It was our way of honoring the land and each other.”
Vegetables like molokhia, tomatoes, and cabbage grew in the rich soils close to Safuriyah’s springs, while farther from the water sources, villagers planted fields of wheat and barley. The practice of rotating crops maintained the soil’s fertility, a tradition that demonstrated the villagers’ ecological knowledge and respect for the land’s natural rhythms. Safuriyah’s residents used natural fertilizers and organic waste, ensuring that each season’s yield was as healthy as the last. “Our land was good to us,” said a farmer from Safuriyah. “With just our hands, the soil, and the rain, we had everything we needed.”
Beyond its cultivated fields, Safuriyah was rich in wild plants, which played a vital role in daily life. Villagers gathered herbs like wild thyme and sage, mallow, and chicory, using them in cooking and as traditional remedies. These plants were woven into every aspect of life in the village, offering flavor, healing, and connection to the natural world. The native flora not only enriched the soil and provided habitats for birds and insects but were symbols of resilience. In Safuriyah, the land’s diversity was seen as a blessing, an intricate balance between cultivated and wild spaces that defined the village’s character.
Transformation of the Landscape Post-1948: The Introduction of Pine Forests and Loss of Native Species
The events of 1948 marked a stark divide in Safuriyah’s environmental history. Following the village’s depopulation, efforts to reshape the landscape began, reflecting the broader colonial strategy to alter the land’s identity. Indigenous trees and fields were replaced by non-native pine forests, rapidly planted to cover the ruins of Palestinian villages and alter the land’s historical continuity. This afforestation was not merely an ecological transformation but a cultural one, erasing the landscape’s former identity to impose a new order over it.
These pine trees, unfamiliar to the Mediterranean environment, were chosen for their rapid growth, quick ground cover, and aesthetic resemblance to European landscapes. As the pine forests spread, the familiar sight of olive groves and the sweet-smelling herbs that once filled the air of Safuriyah’s fields were replaced with dense, tall pines. These new forests, while visually imposing, were ecologically foreign, introducing changes that would affect the soil, water, and even local wildlife. The soil, once fertile and sustaining a variety of native plants, began to lose its richness as the pines altered its pH, reducing the ground’s ability to support the flora that had thrived there for centuries.
The Ecological and Cultural Impact of Invasive Species
The introduction of non-native species didn’t stop with the pines. Over the years, other invasive plants, such as acacias and eucalyptus were introduced, each species further straining the delicate balance of Safuriyah’s ecosystem. Unlike the native flora that required careful tending, these invasive species adapted too well, draining local water resources and dominating native plants. The eucalyptus, for example, consumed large amounts of groundwater, intensifying water scarcity and further altering the land’s natural systems.
The disappearance of native plants led to cascading effects throughout the ecosystem. Without the indigenous herbs and fruit-bearing trees, many bird species that had once been abundant, such as goldfinches, hoopoes, and sparrows, began to vanish. These birds, which relied on the native plants for food and shelter, were pushed out by the dense, acidic pine forests. The ecosystem, once a harmonious blend of cultivated and wild spaces, became inhospitable for the animals and plants that had lived alongside Safuriyah’s people for generations.
In their place, resilient yet disruptive species like the myna bird began to take hold, filling the ecological gaps left by the disappearance of native flora and fauna. These species were a visible reminder of the transformation that had taken place, not only of the land but of the life it supported. The ecosystem was now marked by homogenization and imbalance, where the richness of diversity had once been the hallmark of Safuriyah’s landscape.
The Broader Implications of a Transformed Ecology
The changes that swept through Safuriyah’s land post-1948 were not isolated events but part of a broader colonial practice of reshaping landscapes to erase indigenous presence and claim ownership over them. The introduction of pine forests served as both a physical cover and a symbolic one, replacing the intimate, varied landscape of Safuriyah with a uniform, imposed one. These trees, fast-growing and resilient, symbolized an imposed identity that masked the memory of what had once been.
For the people of Safuriyah, the loss of their native landscape was a profound displacement, one that affected not only their physical ties to the land but their cultural and historical identity. The vegetation that had once sustained them, both practically and spiritually, was replaced by an unfamiliar ecology, redefining their homeland in ways that erased their connection to it. The transformation of Safuriyah’s vegetation reflects a larger story of erasure, where landscapes are rewritten to serve a new narrative, leaving the memories of native plants, trees, and the lives they sustained buried beneath an unfamiliar canopy.
Shifts in Fauna: The Birds and Wildlife of Safuriyah
Before 1948, Safuriyah’s hills and fields were filled with life—a place where birds, animals, and villagers coexisted in a carefully balanced ecosystem. Native birds, like the kestrel, hoopoe, and nightingale, were constant companions, singing from fig branches and olive groves. “The goldfinches used to fill the air with song,” one former resident recalled. “We woke to their music, watched them fly from tree to tree. They were as much a part of our home as the land itself.” These birds held a cherished place in the community, their presence woven into daily life, marking the seasons with their migration patterns and contributing to the natural rhythm of the village.
The village’s thriving orchards and native flora provided ample food and nesting grounds, sustaining a wide array of species. Small mammals, insects, and reptiles lived alongside the villagers, filling each season with color, sound, and movement. The villagers knew each species well; they could identify a bird by its call and knew which plants attracted certain insects. This intimate knowledge was part of the heritage passed down from generation to generation, rooted in a respect for the land’s natural rhythms and an understanding of the interconnectedness of all life.
The village’s proximity to natural springs also meant a reliable water source that sustained both human and animal populations. The spring-fed fields and surrounding wilderness allowed biodiversity to flourish, making Safuriyah a haven not only for its people but for the wildlife that found sanctuary in its hills and valleys.
The Disappearance of Native Birds and Wildlife Post-1948
Following the depopulation of Safuriyah, the introduction of non-native pine forests began to redefine the village’s ecosystem. The pines, while providing quick ground cover, created a dense and shaded environment that disrupted the landscape’s original openness, altering light and soil conditions essential for native plants and animals. This shift had profound consequences for Safuriyah’s native wildlife, particularly its bird species. The familiar olive trees, figs, and wild herbs that had once sustained the local bird populations were no longer there to offer food and shelter. The pine forests – though abundant in number – lacked the variety of vegetation that native species needed to thrive.
Over time, birds like the hoopoe and the nightingale, which once thrived in Safuriyah’s varied and open landscape, began to disappear. These native species were not only displaced but gradually replaced by invasive species better suited to the altered environment. “Our fields used to be filled with life,” said a former resident. “But with the trees we did not know, came birds we did not know.” This transition marked not only an ecological but a cultural loss, as these birds had been deeply connected to the daily lives, traditions, and memories of Safuriyah’s people.
The hoopoe, Palestine’s national bird, was especially missed, as it symbolized resilience and continuity in Palestinian culture. Its call, a familiar sound at dawn, no longer echoed through the fields and orchards, and its absence mirrored the loss of the community that once cherished its presence. The gradual disappearance of these birds reflected a broader displacement of Safuriyah’s natural and cultural heritage, where the land’s original inhabitants, both human and animal, were erased or replaced.
The Rise of Invasive Species: A Changing Ecosystem
In the absence of native flora and fauna, resilient invasive species began to dominate Safuriyah’s landscape. The myna bird, an adaptable and aggressive species introduced to the area either through ecological shifts or urban encroachment, quickly adapted to the new, altered environment. Unlike the native species, the myna bird thrived amidst the pine forests and foreign vegetation, often outcompeting local birds for food and nesting sites. Known for its opportunistic feeding and nesting habits, the myna bird brought new dynamics to Safuriyah’s ecosystem, its presence a marker of the environmental and cultural displacement that had taken place.
“The myna bird is everywhere now, but it does not sing as our birds did,” shared a resident who returned to the village years later. The myna’s aggressive behavior extended to the nests of native birds, often leading to the displacement of smaller, less competitive species. This bird’s proliferation symbolized a homogenization of the landscape, where once-diverse ecosystems were reduced to a limited variety of resilient yet disruptive species.
Ecological and Cultural Implications of Wildlife Displacement
The shifts in wildlife in Safuriyah post-1948 were not simply a matter of ecological change but a reflection of the broader cultural and historical transformation imposed on the land. The decline in native bird populations, the disappearance of small mammals, and the rise of invasive species like the myna bird created a symbolic parallel to the community’s displacement. The animals and birds that had been integral to Safuriyah’s identity were now scarce, replaced by unfamiliar species that lacked the cultural resonance and ecological role of those that had once inhabited the village.
For those displaced from Safuriyah, the loss of these native animals compounded the disconnection from their homeland, as each missing bird or animal served as a reminder of a way of life that had been forcibly altered. The nightingales, hoopoes, and goldfinches that had once been part of every morning in Safuriyah were now memories, lost in the wake of ecological transformation. This change symbolized a severing of ties—not only to the physical land but to the web of life that had defined Safuriyah’s landscape and heritage.
The post-Nakba transformation of Safuriyah’s fauna encapsulates the broader impact of imposed environmental changes, where the replacement of native species with invasive ones reflected an ecological loss that was as much cultural as it was environmental. In this new landscape, Safuriyah’s natural world became a shadow of its former self, its once-rich biodiversity replaced by resilient species that spoke to a different story – one of adaptation, displacement, and loss.
The Broader Implications of Environmental Transformation
Afforestation and Cultural Erasure: Safuriyah’s Transformed Identity
The transformation of Safuriyah’s landscape after 1948 was a process with layered implications, reaching far beyond ecological changes. The introduction of non-native pine forests to cover the ruins of depopulated Palestinian villages served both practical and ideological purposes. On the surface, the rapid spread of pine trees created a physical barrier, concealing what remained of Safuriyah’s buildings, paths, and cultivated fields. These pines, chosen for their fast growth and suitability for afforestation, symbolized the imposition of a new landscape upon the land’s native character.
More than a change in vegetation, this afforestation was part of a broader policy of reshaping the landscape’s identity, effectively “Europeanizing” it to align with a vision disconnected from the region’s original ecology and history. The pines, standing in stark contrast to the olive and fig trees that once thrived in Safuriyah, came to represent a cultural erasure—a displacement of the memories, stories, and heritage that the land held. “Our trees were like family,” one displaced resident shared. “We had grown with them, and they with us. To see them replaced by trees we do not know, it felt as if a part of us had been taken away.”
These non-native forests, now covering areas that were once productive fields, transformed Safuriyah from a landscape of diversity and community interdependence to one marked by uniformity and unfamiliarity. The new environment did not support the diverse ecosystem that had characterized the village. Instead, it replaced centuries-old cultivation and communal life with a monoculture that disrupted local biodiversity, deprived residents of their ancestral lands, and served as a visible marker of displacement.
Ecological Transformation as a Tool of Cultural Rewriting
In this way, the afforestation of Safuriyah went beyond physical transformation; it was a symbolic act, an attempt to rewrite the land’s history and obscure its Palestinian identity. The new forests visually erased the Palestinian village’s presence, planting over the olive groves and fruit orchards that had connected Safuriyah’s people to their heritage. This environmental change was a powerful reminder of how landscapes can be manipulated to control memory and legacy. The trees that grew over Safuriyah’s ruins were not merely a part of nature—they were a narrative layer imposed on the land, marking it as something it had never been and altering the very essence of what Safuriyah meant to its people.
The process mirrors other instances where colonization has leveraged ecological changes to impose cultural erasure. By manipulating the landscape, colonial powers could claim dominion over both the land and its story, transforming the environment to suit new narratives while disregarding those who had lived in harmony with it for generations. In Safuriyah, afforestation effectively turned a landscape of memory and livelihood into one of concealment and denial, redefining the space into a European-style forest that bore no trace of its former life and vibrancy.
A Comparison to the Columbian Exchange: Shaping Biodiversity and Cultural Identity
Safuriyah’s transformation through afforestation and the introduction of non-native species is part of a longer history of human-induced ecological shifts, where the introduction of foreign flora and fauna has reshaped both the environment and cultural identity. One of the most notable historical examples is the Columbian Exchange, the widespread transfer of plants, animals, and cultures between the Americas, Europe, and Africa following Columbus’s arrival in the New World. This exchange drastically altered the biodiversity of each continent involved, as new species like horses, sugarcane, and wheat were introduced to the Americas, while maize, potatoes, and tomatoes were carried back to Europe and beyond.
Much like Safuriyah’s post-1948 transformation, the Columbian Exchange redefined local ecologies, often at the expense of native species. Indigenous plants and animals were replaced, and the ecological balance that had sustained native communities was permanently altered. Beyond the biological impacts, the exchange also had profound cultural implications. The introduction of European agricultural practices and crops changed indigenous ways of life, economies, and even culinary traditions. In many areas, these changes disrupted indigenous communities’ spiritual and cultural connections to their lands, as traditional practices were gradually overshadowed by new, imposed systems.
In Safuriyah, the introduction of pine forests and invasive species mirrors the lasting impacts of the Columbian Exchange, where foreign species became symbols of an imposed identity, challenging the original landscape and the memories tied to it. Just as the Columbian Exchange signaled a transformation in identity and heritage for indigenous people in the Americas, the new landscape in Safuriyah stands as a testament to the ways colonial and postcolonial powers use ecological transformation as a tool for cultural rewriting. The environmental imposition in Safuriyah did not merely change the scenery—it shifted the identity of the land itself, replacing a landscape of diversity, memory, and cultural continuity with one that obscured, rather than celebrated, the history it held.
