The village mullah’s gentle call to prayer drifted through the pre-dawn air, a subtle signal that daylight was approaching. Lying awake on a patio under a canopy of stars in rural Kurdistan, the vastness of the night sky was breathtaking. Orion shone brightly, shooting stars streaked across the darkness, and even a satellite or the International Space Station might have made an appearance. The distant howl of a jackal punctuated the stillness, a wild counterpoint to the peaceful village sounds. As the first hint of blue tinged the hilltop sky, the household began to stir. The plan for the day: harvesting almonds in the mountains. This was an invitation into a world far removed from city life, a chance to witness firsthand where some of our food truly comes from.
A Village Welcome and the Promise of Almonds
Working at the local school in Kurdistan brings unexpected joys, not least of which are the connections forged with colleagues. Rizo, a friend from work, embodies this welcoming spirit. His invitations to his village were always a highlight, offering glimpses into a simpler, more communal way of life. This time, the trip coincided with the almond harvest, a crucial time for his family. With his father recovering from a broken wrist, extra hands were needed. The village was bustling with family – nieces, nephews, siblings, and friends – all gathered to participate in this annual tradition. Accepting Rizo’s invitation meant stepping into the unknown, trusting in the warmth of Kurdish hospitality and the promise of an authentic experience. There was no need for detailed plans; the rhythm of village life and the call of the almond harvest were plan enough.
Journey to the Orchard: Unveiling the Almond’s Mountain Home
Breakfast was a communal affair, served on a plastic tablecloth spread on the floor. Flatbread, creamy yogurt, and homemade butter fueled the harvesters, all washed down with steaming tea. The air buzzed with anticipation for the work ahead. A neighbor arrived with his pickup truck, transforming into our mountain chariot. I was offered the front seat, while Rizo, his parents, and more family members piled into the cab and truck bed, a joyful, if slightly cramped, procession. The valley was still cool as we set off, the rising sun just beginning to paint the landscape with golden light.
The agreement for the almond harvest was simple: two-thirds of the bounty for the harvesters, one-third for the orchard owner. “Orchard” might be too grand a word for these untamed groves. Here, almond trees grew seemingly wild, nurtured by the land itself, without irrigation or pest control. Nature dictated the rhythm. The harvesters’ task also included preliminary processing – removing the soft outer hull of the almond fruit.
The “road” to the orchard was a narrow dirt track winding up the mountainside. Each turn revealed breathtaking vistas of the valley below, a tapestry of green and gold bathed in the morning sun. Reaching the almond grove, everyone knew their role. Tarps were unfurled beneath the trees, creating collection zones for the falling almonds. Long poles were assembled, ready to coax the nuts from their branches.
The Almond Harvest: A Labor of Community
The beating began. Strong arms swung the long poles, striking the almond tree branches. Almonds rained down like a natural shower, bouncing onto the tarps. My task was to hold the downhill edges of the tarps, preventing the precious nuts from rolling away down the steep slope. Sitting on the tarp’s edge, I joined the rhythmic collection, filling large woven sacks with the freshly harvested almonds. Every single almond was valued. Those that escaped the tarps became the target of a meticulous search, a kind of adult Easter egg hunt amongst the grassy undergrowth. The ground around each tree was carefully combed. Corners of the tarps were lifted, and the collected almonds were gathered into shaded piles, leaves and twigs patiently separated from the harvest.
Around mid-morning, a break for sustenance and connection. Homemade bread, called khulera, juicy tomatoes, pungent onions, sweet cantaloupe, and, of course, strong, wood-fired Kurdish tea. Shared labor fostered camaraderie. Laughter and conversation flowed as freely as the tea, enjoyed in the shade of an oak tree, overlooking the stunning panorama of Kurdistan’s mountains and valleys. The sun climbed higher, warming the air, but the mountain breeze kept it pleasant.
More Than Just a Nut: The Journey of the Almond
This experience in Kurdistan provides a glimpse into the origin of almonds, a nut enjoyed worldwide. But where do almonds truly come from beyond this specific harvest? Almonds have a rich history, with evidence suggesting their cultivation dates back thousands of years to the Middle East and South Asia. Botanically, the almond tree (Prunus dulcis) is related to stone fruits like peaches and plums. It thrives in Mediterranean climates – regions with warm, dry summers and mild, wet winters.
Historically, the ” Fertile Crescent,” encompassing parts of modern-day Iraq, Syria, Turkey, and Iran, is considered the birthplace of almond cultivation. From this region, almonds spread along ancient trade routes to the Mediterranean, North Africa, and eventually, to other parts of the world, including California, which is now a major almond producer.
Today, while California dominates global almond production, almonds are still grown in their ancestral homelands, including regions like Kurdistan. These traditional growing areas often rely on dryland farming, as witnessed in Rizo’s village, where trees depend on natural rainfall. This contrasts with intensive, irrigated almond farming in other parts of the world.
The almonds harvested in Kurdistan are more than just a commodity; they represent a connection to land, tradition, and community. They are a product of a specific place and a way of life that values cooperation and simple living.
Evening Reflections and the Taste of Community
The previous evening, a walk with Rizo to his grandparents’ home had offered a quieter moment of reflection. His grandmother, frail and unwell, lay resting on the patio as his grandfather prayed nearby. Rizo’s gentle attempts to coax her to eat honey, a cherished offering, spoke volumes about family bonds. Later, Rizo confided a sense of spiritual dryness, a feeling of distance from his faith. Sharing words of encouragement about returning to faith and forgiveness felt inadequate, highlighting the complexities of human connection and the limitations of words alone. That night, sleep came with prayers for this kind and generous family.
The almond harvest in Kurdistan was more than just collecting nuts; it was an immersion into a culture, a landscape, and a way of life deeply connected to the origins of this humble yet nutritious food. It’s a reminder that even something as commonplace as an almond has a story rooted in place, people, and tradition. To truly understand where almonds come from, it’s essential to look beyond the supermarket shelf and appreciate the journey from tree to table, often intertwined with rich human stories and ancient landscapes.
