Director: Rama Ayasra
Wheat cultivation is getting extinct in Jordan. Farmers wisdom and pastoral culture get unveiled through an activists' quest for food sovereignty.
In the Jordanian countryside, little rain reaches Abu Tareq, an elderly shepherd who farms a land that he rents and doesn’t own, with unique wisdom and spirituality. As the best lands for agriculture lay in the middle of the city. Rabee and Lama, work with families and friends to farm fields between buildings in Amman, facing the obstacles of urbanization and governmental policies that led to the dependency on imported wheat. The two activists are on a mission to bring Jordanian wheat back to the tables, before its near extinction.
Their friend Mohammad leaves his job as an engineer in America to become a farmer and gathers funding for them from abroad, to open the first mill for local wheat. They start selling the harvest commercially in the market, establishing a community around wheat, of people, bakeries and restaurants demanding food sovereignty. Harvest Moon witnesses a new generation of hope, discovering and reviving authentic culture through connection to the land.
The film explores the spiritual, poetic aspects of the culture of growing wheat, with the Harvest Moon as a witness of the events that push the story forward, like an ancient observer from a heavenly point of view. My grandfather was a farmer, but I have never met him as he died before I was born. Abu Tareq reminds me of my grandfather, even in the way he looks. Because I see my ancestors’ heritage in him and his world, I want to make this film. Words like ”food security” and “climate change” have become repetitive terms that people my age have been hearing everywhere all the time. Yet, I was shocked to learn about this crazy irony: the fact that Jordan, my country, is home to the fossil of a 14,000 years old piece of bread. Which means that humanity started wheat agriculture here! This was the moment I started working on this film with the activists, and this was when I met Abu Tareq. I am a grandchild of farmers, and I believe this magical relation to wheat runs in our blood.