Conditions terrible in Gaza
Today I had an experience I didn’t think I’d ever have. I had the opportunity to travel to Gaza. Friends I work with had applied for a permit and had added my name to the permit list. Entry into Gaza is almost impossible. The only people who are allowed in are those who apply for a permit under the name of a recognized international agency. I was able to get in under the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem.
The four of us left at 8 a.m. from St. George’s Cathedral in East Jerusalem. It took about an hour to drive to the Erez Terminal, the northern entry into Gaza. The only other entry point is to the south, at Rafa, on the border with Egypt.
The new terminal just opened last week and even the first glimpse from the parking lot was intimidating. Inside gave the feel of a large warehouse or air terminal.
We approached a line of passport checks, much like you’d find in an international airport. We waited behind a Palestinian woman and her four children.
Even though the children didn’t appear to be more than 8 or 9 years old, they each seemed to know their responsibility. Each carried or dragged a suitcase, bag or sack filled with personal possessions.
They were eventually ushered towards the check-in booth, and after being turned back once, were allowed through. One of the little girls giggled at us and smiled our way and we smiled back and gave her teasing looks. She was a delight.
We were motioned through one at a time, asked the reason for our visit, where we lived, how long we’d be staying.
We all got through. Next we walked down a long walkway and through a turnstile. We found ourselves in a small fenced in area, with no idea how to get out. All exits seemed to be locked.
We waited and then a metal doorway slid open and allowed us through. We helped the children carry their sacks and bags as we walked the very long passageway before us.
The little girl smiled and walked with us. We eventually turned a corner, only to be faced with another long walkway. At the end was another turnstile.
We helped the others get their possessions through and were finally on the Gaza side. One more check of our passports and then to the parking lot and our awaiting van.
We spent most of the day at the Ahli Hospital, visiting with the director and touring the facility. I was amazed at how warmly we were received by the patients in the wards.
They nearly all smiled and greeted us and even allowed us to take pictures. We had lunch at the hospital and then were taken on a tour of Gaza City and a nearby refugee camp.
Since it was Friday, the shops were all closed and the streets were quiet. I was surprised by the many donkey-pulled carts that were in the streets.
Everywhere we looked we could see the rubble of buildings that had been hit by Israeli missiles last summer. We drove through the Islamic University grounds and saw the burned buildings that were the result of last week’s in-fighting between Fatah and Hamas.
We heard that the refugee camp was home to 70,000 Palestinians living in a 10-square-kilometer area. 50,000 of these refugees are children.
Gaza, with a population of 1 1/2 million, is the most densely populated area in the world.
Unemployment is 60 percent; poverty is 70 percent. They live in a virtual prison, with no way out. It’s a pressure cooker waiting to explode.
Our trip back through the checkpoint was more involved than the entering. We backtracked down the same long passageways, but this time were ushered through three sets of turnstiles and doors.
The most intimidating part was the glass booth that we each entered, one at a time. We stood with our legs apart, feet positioned on footprints on the floor.
We were made to raise our arms above our heads and then were encircled by what seemed to be an X-ray machine.
At no time was there any human presence.
Red and green lights dictated whether we waited or went forward. Another check of our passports, more questions and we were back in Israel.
In no way can I convey in words what we saw or how we felt about our experience. I continue to be amazed at the spirit of these people who live with so little hope.
The humor and the grace is still so evident, but the anger is increasing, especially in the young men who have never known anything other than poverty and violence.
The smile of the little girl stayed with us as we drove back to Jerusalem.
I just pray that a peaceful and just solution will be found soon to this tragedy that will give her and all the children of Gaza a future filled with peace and hope.
A former Uniontown resident, Tina Whitehead is living in East Jerusalem as a volunteer with Sabeel, a Palestinian Christian movement. She’s being supported by churches and individuals of the United Methodist Church, Western Pennsylvania Conference.