In the sun-baked groves of northern Jordan, a centuries-old tradition is facing an existential threat. Farmers are navigating a devastating olive harvest, where extreme heat and prolonged drought have slashed yields by an estimated 70% nationwide, marking the country's weakest season in four decades.
A Parched Legacy: Farmers Confront Barren Branches
Abu Khaled al-Zoubi, 67, surveys his orchard in Irbid with a heavy heart. The earth is dust, and the ancient olive trees he has tended for nearly twenty years show stark signs of distress—split bark and nearly bare branches where there should be a bounty of fruit. "I've never experienced anything like this before," he reports, noting that more than half his crop was lost before the harvest could even begin in early November, weeks later than usual.
His story is echoed across Jordan's olive-growing heartlands in the northern regions of Irbid, Ajloun, Jerash and Mafraq. The National Agricultural Research Centre warns the crisis jeopardises a sector that supports 80,000 families and contributes over $1.4bn (£1bn) to the national economy annually.
The Climate Data Behind the Collapse
Official records detail the severity of the conditions. The Jordanian meteorological department logged a historic 13-day extreme heatwave from 12-24 August, the longest on record for the kingdom. This was compounded by a failed rainy season, with precipitation in northern and central regions at roughly 54% of normal levels—a catastrophe for rain-fed groves.
Mahmoud al-Auran, director of the Jordanian Farmers Union, explains the direct impact: "Temperatures were 10-15C above average... Heat and drought give the trees less water, resulting in smaller fruits and oils of less quality." In the hardest-hit north, output has collapsed to just 10% of the typical 200,000-tonne harvest.
Economic and Cultural Fallout
The dramatic shortage has sent prices soaring. A 20-litre container of olive oil now sells for $190, up from $140, while 16kg tins have seen a 40% price increase. This hits every Jordanian household, as the country has historically met 98% of its olive oil needs domestically.
"Olive oil is woven into the fabric of Jordanian life," states Amal al-Ghawanmeh of the al-Sendyan Land Association. The decline disrupts traditions and family meals, forcing costly imports. The economic damage is profound: small groves facing severe losses, and women harvest workers seeing employment vanish.
In response, the government has allowed limited imports from the West Bank and pledged further action if prices keep rising. Meanwhile, farmers and associations are urgently calling for drought-resistant varieties, better irrigation, and climate-smart practices to adapt.
For Abu Khaled al-Zoubi, the fear is generational. "I fear the day will come when I or my grandchildren will be forced to abandon olive farming," he says, gazing at the struggling trees. "Without real support, these trees may not survive … and neither will our way of life."
