“The middle class has largely been wiped out,” Roy said.
Even the deliberate sinking of a ship carrying an estimated 500 passengers—many of them Palestinians from Gaza, the vast majority of whom are presumed to have drowned—off the coast of Malta last month hasn’t stemmed the mass migration from the Strip via clandestine tunnels.
In August 2012 the United Nations issued a report studying whether Gaza would be a livable place in the year 2020. But Gaza’s unlivable reality is already here.
The Electronic Intifada, October 14, 2014, http://bit.ly/1qwbrKw
Editors’ Afterwords
Re-humanizing Gaza
Laila El-Haddad
We Palestinians from Gaza are frequently spoken of as heroes. We’ve grown accustomed to pats on the back and praise for our courage and bravery. But speak to average people in Gaza and chances are they’ll roll their eyes. Not because there isn’t indeed a spirit of steadfastness in Gaza; historically, it has been a thorn in the side of any army that dared to invade it. But because such reductionist characterizations, good-intentioned as they may be, assume no frailty and thus, no humanness. Even this most basic of human characteristics, undesirable as it may be, is denied the Palestinian of Gaza.
Such depictions further the dehumanization of Palestinians. By failing to see Gaza as a polity with many debates raging, many views being aired, we ourselves contribute to the dehumanization or un-humanization of Gaza. If the blockade persists, we think, “But they can handle that, right? They’re Gazan!” If the borders close we say, “But they must be used to this by now; the border always closes.” Instead of viewing Palestinians as human beings, we see them as abstractions.
We have turned Gaza into a legend before the story has even ended.
The simple truth is, people cope because they have to. In desperate and impossible times, people either survive or perish.
Granted, the conditions Gaza is subject to are more extreme perhaps than any other on earth. It is a territory more surveilled, more enclosed, more perversely de-developed and debilitated than any other.
One can’t help but wonder then, is it something about Gaza that makes it unique, where other peoples might have long perished or at the very least acquiesced? Are there some core values or social bonds that enable them to react the way they do?
There are. And its precisely these things that Israel’s ongoing blockade intends to fracture: normality, basic freedoms, sustainability, entrepreneurship, prosperity.
But Palestinians insist on existing, and simple everyday acts, like going to school or cooking traditional meals become acts of resistance.
In 2010, I met a farmer in Gaza’s ravaged northern village of Beit Hanun, the breadbasket of Gaza, gently planting row upon row of olive samplings in his land, after taking a break and drenching himself with the hose. We talked briefly, touching on the debate regarding sustainably grown rain-fed agriculture like olives vs. water-intensive cash crops. “I could have left this land and given up. But I’m planting these trees for the third consecutive time. Three different times, the Israelis have demolished my farm, and cleared it of its fruitful trees. But if I walk away, if I decide one day to stop replanting those trees, fruitless as they may be, then I have nothing. I’ve lost.”
So it’s no wonder we react in awe.
But Palestinians in Gaza say, time and again, we don’t want your sympathy, we want your sanctions! We don’t want your anger, we want your action!
Feeling horrified or sad or even proud of Gaza is not going to help anyone. Speaking and building bridges with students, who comprise more than half the population and who are categorically banned from traveling to pursue their higher educations, just might, as does supporting young entrepreneurs, whose prospects are blocked from every angle could.
How can we support and sustain that strength and those networks—and not merely reconstruct infrastructure—when the guns fall silent? How can we invest in re-building a generation of young people, in healing the wounds that go far beyond the visible scars and amputated limbs, instead of reconstructing buildings?
There are no easy answers, but the quest begins by asking the right questions and knowing where to look. Perhaps this book provides a starting point. We hope to have provided you a starting point in this book.
In eastern Shija‘ia, school children pass through neighborhoods reduced to rubble (November 16, 2014). Residents were displaced to temporary camps, which provide no shelter from the winter cold.
Photo by Mohammed Asad.
When Will We Go Back Home?
Refaat Alareer
I Will Be Back. I Promise.
The last time my niece Raneem, 4, saw her Dad was when the Israeli shells were falling on the heads and houses of more than one hundred thousand Palestinians in Shija’ia. My brother Mohammed took the time to help guide many families to shortcuts in a desperate attempt to escape the flying shrapnel and debris.
Mohammed kept close to his wife, his son Hamza, 1, and his daughter Raneem. “I will be back. Soon,” he assured his weeping kids and worried wife. “I will be back. I promise.” Bringing his family and many others to a relatively safer place, he thought he should go back to help others evacuate.
My brother Mohammed never came back.
He never came back. Not because he did not keep his word, but rather because the Israeli occupation has developed a policy of destroying people and their relationships. Israel made sure my brother Mohammed and a couple thousand Palestinians would never get to see their family members ever again.
Ever since, Raneem has been asking about her Dad. “When will Dad come back? Why does Baba not come back?” she keeps asking. Only watery eyes and pained hearts answer her quizzical looks. However we try to distract her, nothing replaces a father, let alone a loving father who made his small family his own world.
I Wish I Had Not Come
We thought that taking Raneem to see the pile of rubble that was once our house might help her understand something until my elder brother’s nephew, Mohammed, 6, went to see the house with his father. Mohammed kept nagging for more than a month. He wanted nothing but to go to Shija’ia and see our house. When he was there, when he saw all the destruction and ruins, little Mohammed dangled his head and said, “I wish I had not come.”
Taking Raneem and the little ones to see the pile of rubble our house was turned into is now out of the question. We are only counting on a speedy reconstruction process that will mitigate the pain and return the kids to their house.
I Hate Dad. He Never Comes Back!
A month after the Israeli onslaught, Raneem must have realized that her Dad would not be coming back again. She approached my mother and said, “Teta, I dislike my Dad. He does not come back.”
My mother has not recovered from Raneem’s remark. It was like her son was killed twice. But I can only imagine the psychological damage that has already caused Raneem, who has developed a tendency toward absent-mindedness, to talk to herself. Two months ago her Mom found her giggling and mumbling. When asked what she was doing, Raneem said, “My Dad gave me candy.” Her tiny fist remained clenched for a long time.
Why We Stayed
But why did so many stay behind? Why did the people of Shija’ia refuse to leave despite Israel’s propaganda warning? This issue is not as simple as Zionist parrots and trolls suggest. A Palestinian man’s house is his castle. Literally. Leaving was not an option when in 2008–2009 most of the people Israel murdered were in the city center where Israel suggested they go. Leaving was not an option because Israel wanted more than 150,000 people to leave their houses and go to the streets and schools, where Israel also targeted them.
Leaving was not an option because we still remember the 1948 ethnic cleansing massacres against the Palestinians. Because leaving for Israel means that Palestinians never come back. People stayed because it’s their lands and their houses, and because we refuse to be dictated to by an occupier and a mass murderer.
Peopl
e stayed because simply finding peace and protection in one’s own house is a very human act. And for that Israel sought to punish the whole Gaza Strip. It was clear for us that Israel was tracing mobile signals and destroying houses where mobile signals emitted even if the signal came from a mobile phone whose owner forgot it at home in the rush to escape Israeli shells.
The Shija’ia Massacre
When I read the comments that Israel was planning to carpet bomb Shija’ia like it did to some areas in South Lebanon in 2006, I thought people were kidding. But it turned out Israel had this childish, though hateful, grudge against Shija’ia since the fifties. Shija’ia was the last area to fall under Israeli occupation in 1967. Shija’ia has always produced fighters and civil servants and defenders of human rights. Shija’ia was a thorn in Israel’s throat in the first and second intifadas.
Executions and Bragging
We all know Salem Shamaly because his execution was caught on camera. There are many Salems in Shija’ia. I know of at least 5 others, 4 of whom are my relatives, who were shot at close range. They were not allowed to leave their houses. Neither the Red Cross nor ambulances were allowed to evacuate them. My distant cousin Samy Alareer tried to leave the house to seek help for his two brothers, Hassan and Abdulkarim, and his son Fathi, who were injured by the random systematic shelling. On his way to fetch help, Samy was shot dead. The other three were found dead in their house with empty bullet cases all over the place.
Israeli officials were quick to brag about the death and destruction they brought upon Shija’ia. Hundreds were slain and injured, many of whom will be disabled forever. Avichay Adraee, the Israeli army’s spokesman in Arabic, bragged on Twitter that the Israeli army dropped 120 one-ton bombs on Shija’ia in the first two weeks alone. Add to that the hundreds of shells and mortars with their huge error radius.
Resistance
I do not have the words to do justice to the unyieldingly valiant, lion-hearted fighters of Palestine. They remained steadfast with what little weapons and strong faith in their rights they have in the face of the most inhumanely heinous occupation the world has known.
However, there is one thing the whole world should know: in face-to-face combat, far fewer Palestinian fighters were killed than Israeli soldiers. The Israeli heavily armed elite troops supported with tanks, planes, and high-tech equipment were squealing when faced with Shuja’iya’s modestly trained and minimally armed resistance fighters who defended their homes and families with skill and determination. Israel’s response was to randomly, yet systematically, destroy houses and shell densely crowded areas. Palestinian fighters rose to the challenge of battle imposed upon them. And they fought honorably and well. They fearlessly stood for their people.
Rebuilding Gaza
The cost of putting up a defense in Gaza is that all Palestinians in Gaza are being punished. Israel has tightened the siege on Gaza. Egypt has tightened its siege on Gaza. The Palestinian Authority has tightened its siege on Gaza. The stupidity those parties are displaying is unprecedented. Collective punishment against Palestinians has never worked. And the rules of logic say doing the very same things and expecting different results is foolishness. But Israel in its arrogance, the PA’s Mahmoud Abbas in his cravenness, and Arab regimes in their complicity seem to have agreed that a good Gaza is a starved Gaza.
With the delay of reconstruction and the clear complicity of Abbas and his cronies and the UN and its army of mercenaries living off the Palestinian plight, Raneem and Hamza and tens of thousands will never get to go back to the house where they lived their happiest days ever with the most loving person they will ever meet. Raneem will have to live with the horrible memories of seeing her house become a pile of rubble.
A family returns to its home in Shija‘ia with the few belongings given to them by relief organizations. At the height of the assault, 500,000 Palestinians were displaced; two months later, 100,000 remained in temporary accommodations.1
Photo by Mohammed Asad.
Whitewashing Israel
The likes of my niece Raneem and little nephew Mohammed are purposefully being punished by Israel and the international community—first by destroying their houses and lives, and then by providing Israel with the impunity and excuses it wants, and finally by delaying the process of justice. They want these little kids to live in ruins and destruction. Ironically Palestinian children are expected to grow up and like Israel or see a future where peace can be achieved when the murderers of their parents and destroyers of their houses go unpunished and unaccountable.
Unless Israeli war criminals are brought to justice and the occupation ends, my fear is that these children will grow up feeling that they were betrayed by the world. We owe it to them to change that vision.
Names of the Dead
July 8: Hafeth Mohammad Hamad, 26; Ibrahim Mohammad Hamad, 26; Mahdi Mohammad Hamad, 46; Donia Mahdi Hamad, 16; Fawziyya Khalil Hamad, 62; Soha Hamad, 25; Mohammad Shaban, 24; Ahmad Nael Mahdi, 16; Mohammad Habib, 22; Ahmed Mousa Habib, 16; Amjad Shaban, 30; Khader al-Basheeleqety, 45; Saqr Aayesh al-Ajjoury, 22; Mohammad Ayman Ashour, 15; Riyadh Mohammad Kaware, 50; Hussein Yousef Kaware, 13; Bassem Salem Kaware, 10; Mohammad Ibrahim Kaware, 50; Suleiman Salam Abu Sawaween, 22; Bakr Mohammad Joudeh, 50; Ammar Mohammad Joudeh, 26; Siraj Eyad Abdul-Aal, 8; Rashad Yassin, 27; Abdul-Hadi Soufi, 24.
July 9: Sahar Hamdan (al-Masry), 40; Mohammad Ibrahim al-Masry, 14; Amjad Hamdan, 23; Hani Saleh Hamad, 57; Ibrahim Hani Saleh Hamad, 20; Mohammad Khalaf Nawasra, 4; Nidal Khalaf Nawasra, 5; Salah Awad Nawasra, 24; Aesha Najm al-Nawasra, 23 (pregnant); Hamed Shihab; Hatem Abu Salem; Amal Yousef Abdul-Ghafour, 20; Nariman Jouda Abdul-Ghafour, 18 months; Yasmin Mohammad Matouq, 4; Rafiq al-Kafarna, 30; Abdul-Nasser Abu Kweik, 60; Khaled Abu Kweik, 31; Mohammad Mustafa Malika, 18 months; Hana Mohammed Fuad Malaka, 28; Mohammad Khaled an-Nimra, 22; Ibrahim Daoud al-Bal’aawy; Abdul-Rahman Jamal az-Zamely; Mazin Faraj Al-Jarba; Marwan Eslayyem; Naifa Mohammed Zaher Farajallah, 80; Raed Mohammed Shalat, 37; Ibrahim Ahmad Abdin, 42; Mustafa Abu Murr, 20; Khaled Abu Murr, 22; Salima al-Arja, 53; Miriam Atiya al-Arja, 9.
July 10: Abdullah Ramadan Abu Ghazal, 5; Ayman Adham Yusef al-Hajj,16; Baha Abu al-Leil, 35; Salem Qandil, 27; Amer al-Fayyoumi, 30; Mahmoud Lutfi al-Hajj, 58; Bassema Abdul-Fatteh Mohammad al-Hajj, 48; Asma Mahmoud al-Hajj, 22; Fatima Mahmoud al-Hajj, 12; Saad Mahmoud al-Hajj, 17; Najla Mahmoud al-Hajj, 29; Tareq Mahmoud al-Hajj, 18; Omar Mahmoud al-Hajj, 20; Suleiman Saleem Mousa al-Astal, 17; Ahmed Saleem Mousa al-Astal, 24; Mousa Mohammed Taher al-Astal, 50; Ibrahim Khalil Qanan, 24; Mohammad Khalil Qanan, 26; Ibrahim Sawali, 28; Hamdi Badea Sawali, 33; Mohammad al-Aqqad, 24; Ismael Hassan Abu Jame, 19; Hussein Odeh Abu Jame, 75; Mohammad Ehsan Ferwana, 27; Raed az-Zourah, 32.
July 11: Sahar Salman Abu Namous, 3; Ahmed Zaher Hamdan, 24; Ala Abdul Nabi; Shahrman Ismail Abu al-Kas, 42; Mazin Mustafa Aslan, 63; Bassam Abul-Rahman Khattab, 6; Abdul-Halim Abdul-Moty Ashra, 54; Mohammad Samiri, 24; Rami Abu Mosaed, 23; Abdullah Mustafa abu Mahrouq, 22; Saber Sokkar, 80; Hussein Mohammad al-Mamlouk, 47; Nasser Rabah Mohammad Sammama, 49; Anas Rezeq Abu al-Kas, 33; Sami Adnan Shaldan, 25; Salem al-Ashhab, 40; Mahmoud Waloud, 26; Hazem Ba’lousha; Mohammad Kamel al-Kahlout, 25; Odai Rafiq Sultan, 27; Mohammad Rabea Abu- Hmeedan, 65; Wisam Abdul-Razeq Hasan Ghannam, 31; Mahmoud Abdul-Razeq Hasan Ghannam, 28; Kifah Shaker Ghannam, 33; Ghalia Thieb Ghannam, 57; Mohammad Munir Ashour, 26; Nour Marwan an-Ajdi, 10; Raed Hani Abu Hani, 31; Joma Atiyya Shallouf, 25.
July 12: Ibrahim Nabil Hamada, 30; Hasan Ahmad Abu Ghush, 24; Ahmad Mahmoud al-Bal’awy, 26; Ali Nabil Basal, 32; Mohammad Bassem al-Halaby, 28; Mohammad Sweity (Abu Askar), 20; Rateb Subhi al-Saifi, 22; Azmi Mahmoud Obeid, 51; Nidal Mahmoud Abu al-Malsh, 22; Suleiman Said Obeid, 56; Mustafa Muhammad Inaya, 58; Ghassan Ahmad al-Masri, 25; Mohammad Arif, 13; Mohammad Ghazi Arif, 35; Ghazi Mustafa Arif, 62; Ahmad Yousef Dalloul, 47; Fadi Ya’coub Sukkar, 25; Mohammad Ahmed Basal, 19; Rifat Syouti*; Anas Yousef Qandil, 17; Islam Yousef Mohammad Qandil, 27; Mohammad Edrees Abu Sneina, 20; Abdul-Rahim Saleh al-
Khatib, 38; Husam Thieb ar-Razayna, 39; Ola Wishahi, 31; Suha Abu Saade, 38; Mohammad Edrees Abu Sweilem, 20; Mohammad Abdullah Sharatha, 53; Qassem Jaber Odah, 16; Nahedh Naim al-Batsh, 41; Baha Majed al-Batsh, 28; Qusai Issam al-Batsh, 12; Aziza Yousef al-Batsh, 59; Ahmad Noman al-Batsh, 27; Mohammad Issam al-Batsh, 17; Yahia Ala Al-Batsh, 18; Jalal Majed al-Batsh, 26; Mahmoud Majed al-Batsh, 22; Majed Sobhi al-Batsh; Marwa Majed al-Batsh, 25; Khaled Majed al-Batsh, 20; Ibrahim Majed al-Batsh, 18; Manar Majed al-Batsh, 13; Amal Hussein al-Batsh, 49; Anas Ala al-Batsh, 10; Qusai Ala al-Batsh, 20; Khawla al-Hawajri, 25; Rifat Youssef Amer, 36; Mohannad Yousef Dheir, 23; Shadi Mohammad Zorob, 21; Imad Bassam Zorob, 21; Mohannad Yousef Dheir, 23.
July 13: Qassem Talal Hamdan, 23; Rami Abu Shanab, 25; Mohammad Salem Abu Breis, 65; Hijaziyya Hamed al-Hilo, 80; Ruwaida Abu Harb Zawayda, 30; Fawziyya Abdul-al, 73; Hussein Abdul-Qader Mheisin, 19; Maher Thabet Abu Mour, 23; Moussa Shehda Moammer, 60; Hanadi Hamdi Moammer, 27; Saddam Mousa Moammer, 23; Moayyad al-Araj, 3; Husam Ibrahim Najjar, 14; Laila Hassan al-Odaat, 41; Ezzeddin Bolbol, 25; Haitham Ashraf Zarb, 21.
July 14: Hamid Suleiman Abu al-Araj, 60; Mohammad Yasser Hamdan, 24; Abdullah Mahmoud Baraka, 24; Tamer Salem Qdeih, 37; Ziad Maher an-Najjar, 17; Mohammad Shakib al-Agha, 22; Ahmed Younis Abu Yousef, 22; Kamal Atef Yousef Abu Taha, 16; Ismael Nabil Ahmad Abu Hatab, 21; Atwa Amira al-Amour, 63; Ziad Salem ash-Shawy, 25; Sara Omar Sheikh al-Eid, 4; Omar Ahmad Sheikh al-Eid, 24; Jihad Ahmad Sheikh al-Eid, 48; Boshra Khalil Zorob, 53; Adham Abdul-Fattah Abdul-Aal, 27.
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