Vacations in Gaza

Vacations in Gaza
August 20, 2002

Hi everyone,

I am starting this week off rested, refreshed, and ready to get back into work in Hebron. You might say I had a lovely time with a lovely group of people, a much-needed respite from the rigors of daily CPT life this summer.

Where, you might ask, was I?

I was asked by a friend who works for Global Exchange to accompany their latest 'reality tour' group to Gaza this past weekend. Global Exchange does a lot of neat things, you should check out their website, when I scrape the money together I should just tell you now my plans are to go on their trips to Cuba and Iran. Although first I am being tempted by the upcoming CPT delegation to Iraq with Voices in the Wilderness. (Let me put in a plug for it now....any takers? You could also be going to beautiful Vieques, Puerto Rico...check the website.) And no paramilitary white settlers to kick you around in any of these places, either.

Anyway. Always, people have told me how desperate the situation in Gaza is. I could see that easily driving around: large swaths of Palestinian farmland are bulldozed clear to allow expansion of the settlements, cutting clear across to the sea. Very few houses are completed, most are seemingly fragile creations of cheap concrete block and cement. Those of you who went with me to Honduras in college know exactly what I mean. Gaza City looks like Tegucigalpa in every way I can think of right now.

But the land is also beautiful, and nobody ever told me that. I fell in love with the place immediately. I would be happy to work there someday. There is a distinctive architecture to the place, which I didn't think to photograph, but when a house is actually completed, they are painted with exquisite detail in Mediterranean colors. Each house is made as unique as the materials allow. The feel of the place is very fluid—by that I mean you feel as if you're floating between the horrors and the beauty. Life is intense and lazy at the same time.

We visited a Palestinian home next to the Kfar Darom settlement in Deir al-Balah. The family there has soldiers on the roof because it's a tall house, the back side is shot up enough to look like Swiss cheese. That's better than the neighbors' houses, which are crumbling and falling over from repeated shellings. The soldiers come into their home at least two nights per week and lock them into one room overnight, often without access to the bathroom. Sometimes they come during the day and lock them into the kitchen. There are eleven family members living in the house. Have you ever had eleven people milling around in your kitchen? All day? On a regular basis?

The house is three stories tall, but they are only allowed to use the first floor. Within the first floor, they can only safely use the kitchen, bathroom, and parlor-which they sleep in whether they're locked in or not. The other rooms will be shot into if they are in there.

Despite this, the family is not vengeful or bitter. Often these days you see people masking their bitterness, but here it seemed to me there was nothing to cover. They invite the settler children daily to visit their home and play with their own children (No takers just yet). They also welcome in a steady stream of journalists and visitors to share their story. They were incredibly articulate in doing so, too. Probably the result of too much practice. The daughter had near-perfect scores on her college entrance exam, and spoke perfect English, but due to the closure and the economic situation, there will be no college for her.

We stayed in a hotel near the coast in Gaza City, dined in a fantastic fish restaurant, and had dessert at a beautiful restored Palestinian mansion on the coast. Our guide was one of the architects. His class re-designed the building. Looking up at the stars and feeling the breeze, it was difficult to believe this was one of the saddest places on earth. It was hard to believe within this tiny strip of land that this place existed alongside everything else we'd seen all day.

I learned quickly that the people in Gaza feel forgotten. After that, they feel underestimated. It seemed as though our hosts and every organization we visited there wanted to prove to us that people in Gaza have desperate circumstances, but are doing beautiful things with the little that they have. They are trying to show their ability to govern themselves under independence, which they never had even under Oslo. I visited an orphanage with meticulously tended gardens, a state-of-the-art deaf school with dynamic programs. The variety of cultural programs and development also are amazing. I think the people are trying to rid themselves of the image of being violent uncivilized religious fanatics. I also think that when the Occupation is over, the tourists will flock in.

We also visited the site of the apartment bombing which killed nine children. Gaza City has one of the tightest population densities in the world. I was suprised that there was as little damage as there was actually, but not suprised at the death toll. It is like the destruction of suicide bomber's families' homes. If the bomber lived in an apartment building with a bunch of other renters, ten families are displaced rather than one. I heard and read a lot of reports about the Hamas leader (Shehadeh) being morally irresponsible for 'surrounding' himself with children. And I thought to myself when seeing the destruction, even Sharon has the right to live with his family. What if someone came and bombed his home? What if bombs started dropping in the crowded slums of south Tel Aviv, targeting the houses of every soldier who killed a Palestinian? Or if the Palestinian resistance began dynamiting their homes? What if? Would it seem more repugnant than it already is?

If you read the team updates, you know about the shooting incident in Rafah. Not much more I can say about that here. I'm going to offer to take special-interest delegations to Gaza if I'm on site when the group comes. One person on our previous delegation called us 'negligent' in not taking every delegation there. I can understand where she's coming from. It is logistically difficult enough not to do so, though. And in some ways, if you don't know what you're looking at, you don't understand what you're seeing.

I ended the weekend strangely enough sipping overpriced beers in the American Colony Hotel garden and cheering the evening with 'Next year in Teheran,' for our two Iranian exiles in the group. Already I've been asked to help lead the next tour. I hope that I do.

Looking forward to coming home next week. Or at least back to the States. I still feel good, and that I'm doing good work. I'm glad we do three-year terms, because after one year I finally feel like I'm a 'good' CPTer. Would hate to have the term half over already.

I suppose the flow of this email fits the flow of life I've described in Gaza. Time to end for now.

Talk to you all soon.
Le Anne