48 Hours in Gaza
by Adriano Contreras | Saturday, January 16th, 2010

The morning after the nightmare in Al Arish in which plain clothes police officers assaulted our convoy, we patched up the wounded and cleaned up our vehicles. We were told we’d be leaving the port despite a feeling that the fight with the police would cost us further delay.

At 2PM on January 6 we were ready to go. At around 4PM the Egyptians decided to start letting us leave the port for the 45 minute drive to Rafah. We were given 48 hours in Gaza, except the fine print read that our allotted time began with the first vehicle to enter Palestinian soil. 20 vehicle mini-convoys were being escorted from Al Arish by the police. Each vehicle took roughly 5 minutes to leave the gate. I sat at Al Arish until 9PM. The first vehicle enter at 5PM.

My massive headache didn’t help ease or admire the ride to Rafah. All I could think about was how terrible my time in Gaza would be if I were to remain sick. But here we were. Staring at the gates of Rafah. Already stamped for exit at Al Arish a simple double check of our passports was required. Then we drove up closer and closer. There it was! The infamous black gates of Gaza. The same one we posted pictures of back in July. The same one hundreds of people try to cross through with little to no success.

“Welcome to Palestine” read the building we drove by as my headache withered away. We were greeted with flowers by locals and they shook our hands and specified, “Welcome to Gaza”. So nice to hear it.

We queued up and waited for the remainder of the convoy before taking off about an hour and a half after crossing the border. The road to Gaza City was pitch black. In the distance you can see some apartment buildings lit or an alley here or there. There wasn’t much of a greeting a long the way. Many were out when the first vehicles arrived at 5PM. But after the previous days murder of 10 Palestinians at a rally at the Rafah border condemning Egypt’s actions against us, I can understand them staying home.

I split with the convoy when I made it to Gaza City. I met up with David’s friend in Gaza, Rasem and stayed at his house. His family welcomed me. His wife Amal offered to clean my dirty laundry and Rasem offered me a shower. Its 3AM in the morning and I’m being offered tea, coffee, and things to eat.

We chatted for a couple of hours, David, Rasem, Amal and I. Rasim speaks good English and his wife has just begun learning. Rasim, a counselor for the UN, tells a story of his brand new television still with spots of mud from the tunnel it came through. Up until that point it seemed like I was just in some foreign country, but the simple fact that the store where he bought his TV gets its merchandise from the tunnels reminded me of where I was.

The next day I met Rasem’s children. I met Amal’s niece Mona and her friends. We conversed in English over delicious Palestinian cuisine. Then I met Rasem’s parents. It was a busy day, everyone wanting to get a chance to meet us convoy folks. When not presented with gifts, we were told multiple times of the appreciation people have for what we’ve done for Gaza.

After seeing some of the destruction and meeting Mona’s friend Areej and her family I returned back to Rasem’s and met more of his family. We put on some Arabic music and I attempted to dance. I could not figure out how to move my body the way Rasem could. He rattled and slithered like a snake on the dance floor.

As the evening drew to a close we sat in the living room and discussed people’s hopes and aspirations. Some of Rasem’s family wished to travel abroad to different countries like the US, Russia, and Sweden. When asked whether they’d move from Gaza if they had the chance, most said they wouldn’t. Gaza is their home.

Before the evening came to a close I went for coffee and sheesha in town. That night I heard the loudest of the bombings. I presume it may have been the one that killed 15 people.

In the morning I grabbed my things from the parking lot where our vehicles were stored and went for breakfast with David, Rasem, and Abdullah (a friend of theirs). Awkward silences filled the gaps between laughter and conversation. The looming time to depart Gaza was on all of our minds. The Egyptians wanted the convoy at the border by noon.

I reorganized my bags at Rasem’s place and hid my tapes and duplicate copy of my footage in different locations, expecting the worse from the Egyptian authorities. Rasem’s son began to cry when he realized we were leaving. Amal made us another round of teas and then we said our goodbyes.

It was impossible to withhold tears in the taxi ride to meet the convoy. I was consumed by anger and frustration. My politics were absent when thinking to myself “how could this happen”. Having developed relationships with these people in such a short period of time and realizing the generosity, intellect, and their desire to live made it seem so unfair that I may never see them again. The chances of returning to Gaza seem so slim. It was hard not to think pessimistically about the situation, even wondering if the Egyptian wall would suffocate Gaza and end the lives of the people I met.

As I composed myself and came to my senses, my anger shifted to the ‘greatest democracy in the Middle East’. If the nature of that state weren’t so blatantly racist we’d have no need for a convoy like ours. If empires weren’t so eager to control the black gold, there be no need to heavily fund Israel and maintain its apartheid. If only Egypt would open the border, I’d be able to come back.

When I met up with the convoy at the Rafah border I met an 18 year old man. His family were the 15 killed the night before. He sat there, normal as can be, and explained what happened. He showed me a picture of his 6 month old sister that was killed. He smiled quite a bit. His composure puzzled me. We sat at the Rafah border for a number of hours and eventually left Gaza behind.

48 hours in Gaza after all that traveling seems like a raw deal. But its not and never was about me or the people on the convoy. It was about breaking the siege. To deliver aid. To draw attention to Egypt’s compliance with Israeli apartheid. And if I had the chance again, I would redo the journey in a heartbeat. Even if it takes another 31 days.

1:55 am. Viva Palestina.