Gaza
There are two road crossings to Gaza City, the Erez crossing point and Al Mintar or Karni crossing point. Another two crossings are in the south plus the Rafah crossing into Egyptian Sinai. Those wishing to enter Gaza via the Erez checkpoint need written permission from the Israeli government. It requires about five working days. No permission is needed from the Palestinian Authority. The other possibility is from Egypt at the Rafah crossing for foreign representatives of recognized international organizations, perhaps the Trust can organise that. You also need a permit from the Palestinian Authority for that route.’
‘What about flying in?’
‘Impossible Gaza Airport has been closed for the last five years on Israeli orders, and for that matter the sea port is also closed.’
Gaza was a huge camp, sealed off by the sea on one side and on the other three by a high fence with watch towers and guards. Before the Israelis left it had been cut into three sections by Tsahal. The Gaza Strip was as the name suggests a strip of coastal land forty five kilometres from north to south between the two main crossings points, the Erez crossing with Israel at the northern end and Rafah terminal with Egypt at the southern end.
People from Rafah or Khan Younis, in the south of Gaza, had to spend anything up to five hours at checkpoints going to Gaza City, but the complex of sheds, collection points and walled walkways were abandonned. The route to Gaza, once jammed with vehicles, was empty and the deeply potholed road covered with piles of rubble and sand.
They took the south bound Highway 4 passing the cities of Ashdod and Ashkelon and were dropped off by their driver at the Erez crossing point – between Israel and the Gaza Strip – a heavily fortified concrete structure standing on the surrounding wasteland. There were few people at the crossing and they walked to the checkpoint gates, past concrete blocks and metal detectors to the passport control cabins where they handed their papers and permits to the grim faced guards. O’Connelly with Laura had obtained Israeli Government Press Cards, which they presented with their passports to the Israeli border authorities.
The no man's zone between the Israeli and Palestinian checkpoints was about one hundred metres overlooked by the heavily armed Israeli Defence Force. They were then unsmilingly dispatched into a concrete walled corridor, lined with cameras and divided by railings, a wire fence separated it down the middle, and it was covered with a plastic roof transforming it into a greenhouse in which the heat was already stifling, then through a series of turnstiles, it was as though they were being led to cattle pens or worse. Only a year before a twenty-one year old Palestinian girl wearing a bomb unsuccessfully tried to blow herself up before the cameras at the gate.
They then arrived in another broad corridor like area, almost half a kilometre long covered with a corrugated iron roof at the end of which was the dismal empty Palestinian control point where their passports and visas were examined. After registration with the Palestinian police and a few brief formalities they left the checkpoint and were in Gaza, at the exit there was an odour of stale urine and the floor was scattered with refuse.
Waiting to greet them was Tim Collins, the correspondent of the International Herald with his stringer who led them to the Toyota Landcruiser parked at the exit, it bore large door stickers marked Foreign Press in English and Arabic. They driver opened the back door for their bags and where they saw flack jackets and helmets as well as a sizeable first aid box.
‘Just in case,’ said Tims with a forced laugh.
‘Do you ever need them?’ asked Laura anxiously.
‘Yes, there could be an air strike at any time. A lot of Palestinian militants have been killed in air strikes as well as bystanders.’
‘Is there a warning?’
‘No, if the Israeli’s fire a missile, don’t move as they may fire again, normally they know who they are firing at! A lot of people have been killed or wounded, including journalists, when they fire again when rescuers arrive.’
‘Oh!’
‘Keep away, curiosity can kill! If your mobile phone is working normally it means the helicopters have left.’
‘How long has it been like this?’
‘Always, but more recently since the Second Intifada.’
‘Who started that?’
‘Sharon, when he said: The Temple Mount is in our hands and will remain in our hands. It is the holiest site in Judaism and it is the right of every Jew to visit the Temple Mount.’
‘Why!’
‘He went there to investigate the work on the Haram. The Waqf had started excavation works in Solomon's Stables to build another mosque, an underground mosque. The rubble was dumped in the Kedron Valley. Truck loads of rubble and stone from their building excavation work. The Israelis tried to block the entrance of construction materials and when Sharon arrived the Arabs bombarded him with stones. Then Arafat made some inflammatory speeches and the riots became more violent with shots being fired and several Palestinians were killed.’
The driver headed along Salahadeen Road past the industrial zone, about eight kilometres before turning right and another couple of kilometres into Gaza City. The Gaza strip as it had been described was exactly that, a strip of land about forty or so kilometres long and six to fifteen kilometres wide, a vast refugee camp in grey dust covered concrete. The total population of Gaza was 1.3 million people living in an area of 360 square kilometres, a quarter of those lived in Gaza City itself. O'Connelly made a quick calculation, Paris intramuros, that is inside its circular ring road, was about half of that area with a population of two million.
The traffic was light on the streets of Gaza City and few people seemed to be in the shops, armed groups of men seemed to be everywhere. The economy of Gaza had almost come to a halt, food being supplied by the many international aid agencies present.
They were booked at the Windmill Hotel on United Nations Street where before anything else they were handed a list of recommendations for travellers in Gaza.
Collins had obtained a press card from the Palestinian Ministry of Information for O’Connelly, who since his days as a journalist had always held an up-to-date international press card, an open sesame, which in this case was necessary to facilitate his visit to Gaza.
‘Never go alone without a local escort or translator, even if you speak Arabic,’ warned Tim handing him the card.
‘Can we speak with the locals?’ asked O’Connelly.
‘Normally yes, people are quite open to the press, but it depends who you are talking to. It helps if you speak to them in Arabic, then they become quite communicative, unfortunately my Arabic is very basic, Slimane Saoudi helps me, he’s a journalist and speaks perfect English, he can explain all the local things. One important point, avoid speaking of terrorists or terrorism when you talk of Palestinian militants, here they are freedom fighters, martyrs and heroes.’
‘What happens if we get hurt?’
‘Go immediately to the Shifa Hospital in Gaza City, that’s the main governmental hospital. You’ll get special care, but don’t worry it’s very unlikely anything will happen if you are careful.’
‘Speaking of the hospital have you spoken with Aisha?’
‘Yes, she is working tonight, but we have fixed a meeting with her tomorrow morning.’
‘Excellent, so what’s our programme this afternoon?’
‘It’s up to you, we can show you around Gaza, if that’s what you would like?’
‘What is there to see?’ asked Laura, as ever a keen tourist.
‘There’s the Qasr Al-Basha on Al-Wehda Street, the means the Lord's Palace, because Napoleon stayed their in 1799, and the Porphyrus Church.’
‘It suits us.’
‘Fine, let’s eat then we can show you around.’
They were few people outside, a few men starting to come out after their afternoon siesta. Opposite the hotel there were a couple of SUVs parked in the shade, their drivers still sleeping.
They left the hotel taking the Toyota passing the Old City
with the Great Mosque Al-Omari Mosque with its beautiful minaret, once a church, built by the crusaders in the 12th century. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a small restaurant faced the sea.
‘The owners are good friends of Slimane’s’, said Collins. ‘Nothing luxurious, but food is good, fresh fish.’
It was good, fresh shrimps and grilled fish with beer then Turkish coffee and arak.
‘So what’s the situation in Gaza today,’ O’Connelly asked turning to Slimane.
‘Bad, with the changes,’ he said alluding to the arrival of the Hamas to power, ‘funding from the European Union and US has dried up and tens of thousands of government employees have received no pay.’
‘Yes and the promises from Saudi Arabia and the rich Arab states as usual are slow in coming if ever,’ added Collins.
‘Libya has also promised an unspecified amount, but all we have is chicken feed, the rest is just talk and promises.’
‘What about the Iranians?’
‘What about them? What are we supposed to do? Starve to death?’
‘The problem is that the rich Arab countries fear US sanctions.’
‘Can there be no agreement with Israel?”
‘It depends on the agreement, if it is another Munich then that’s not for us, besides what kind of Israel should we recognise? Look at the map of the Occupied Territories on the West Bank it makes a Swiss cheese look solid! In any no Israeli government has ever given the least sign that they would withdraw to the 1967 borders.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jerusalem!’
‘They want a weak Palestinian government, making a deal with Abbas, it’s Finlandization, bowing to Israeli dictates and American pressure.’
‘Most Arabs see the US as an imperialistic power, whose only goal is to impose its will and steal Arab oil and Arab rights,’ said Collins.
‘The truth of the matter is that Israel is nothing more than a puppet state, a surrogate of American money and power, our land is under foreign military occupation, nothing more than a vast prison camp.’
‘Well, times have changed and the Palestinians with it. Before there was hope for a united Palestine, that seems difficult now. They want us to recognise Israel, impossible!’
‘Gaza is being slowly strangled, and we have been divided in the hope that we recognise Israel the only alternative is starvation! ‘They are pushing us into civil war! The Fatah against the Hamas, while Israel looks on gloating and saying, ‘we told you so, they are incapable of managing themselves, they are killing each other.’
The next morning Slimane left for the Shifa Hospital to pick up Aisha Barghut, where after completing medical studies at the Sackler Faculty of Medicine at Tel-Aviv University she was an intern working in the emergency service. It was eleven when she joined in the hotel coffee shop with Slimane. Aisha was about twenty six or twenty seven, tallish with long black hair, attractive but rather serious.
She sat down and excused herself for being late but during the night there had been fighting with Hamas and Fatah supports with several of the fighters seriously wounded.
‘It’s very kind of you to meet us Aisha.’
‘I was told you wanted to speak of Assad Areyda?’
‘That’s right, I met his father a few days ago in Daliat El-Carmel.’
‘A good man.’
‘Yes, Assad’s death was a great loss for his family.’
‘We were good friends, but he was a Druze and me a Sunni, in our country that makes life complicated.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She smiled sadly, ‘Me too.’
O’Connelly explained the story of the Temple and how he was interested to know about Assad’s work.
‘Assad had a brilliant future, his death was a tragedy. He was working on the hydraulic system and underground water storage cisterns of the Haram esh-Sharif.’
‘Do you know much about his work?’
‘I’m not an archaeologist….’
‘Ah,’ said O’Connelly unable to hide his disappointment.
‘But I type the draft of his thesis.’
O’Connelly sat up, his eyes lit up with new hope.
‘What happened to his work?’
‘I have kept it, it is all that I have of him with some photos.’
That evening Aisha returned with a cardboard box containing Assad’s thesis and his notes. She had agreed to put it into O'Connelly's care in return for any publishing rights that she would use for the benefit of Palestinian children suffering from the effects of the conflict.
‘This is all I have Mr O’Connelly. You know Assad worked with another person, somebody who had been helping him with research work in London or Paris.’
‘Do you remember his name?’
‘I think his name was Isaac.’
‘Did he work with him in Jerusalem?’
‘No he met him in Masada, then returned to France.’
‘Isaac did not have the possibility to go to London to do research at the Palestinian Survey or something like that.’
‘So Isaac did that for him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, look Aisha, I will read everything here, its mostly in Arabic or English I hope?’
‘There are some notes and references in Hebrew.’
‘Okay, I get that translated. In any case I’ll look after everything. It’s very, very, kind of you to leave this with me.’
‘I trust you Mr O’Connelly and you must trust me, my only objective is to help these children and in the memory of Assad. We have so many problems with the fighting between the Fatah and Hamas factions. Every day we have injured in the hospital and they even fight in the hospital itself.’
‘You can count on my help, once we are back in Paris by one means or another we will get help for the children.’
‘Thank you. You know since the Hamas won everything changed. In spite of the elections being democratic Israel closed its border and no Palestinian could go out or come in…as you know I am an Israeli citizen working here for a cross-faith humanitarian organisation. Before a lot of our medical supplies came from the West Bank. On top of that they have withheld tax revenues and to make matters worse foreign aid has been blocked.’
‘Some of the hospitals doctors are driving taxis to get money, they haven’t been paid for months. They’ve got no choice, they have to feed their families. The civil service, no longer functions, they are driven into poverty, garbage is uncollected, sick people are not being for!
‘It’s really bad.’
‘To make things worse the Hamas supporters have been given weapons and uniforms for a new security force and they even have armed guards the hospital.’
‘And you…?’
‘I have to stay here, it’s my duty to help our people, whatever side they’re on.’
72
Flight from Gaza
The Legacy of Solomon Page 72