may 30: "welcome to gaza"

HOLY CRAP, WE ARE IN GAZA!

And Gaza is amazing.

Okay, let me back up. This day feels about three days long. It's hard to believe that this morning we were in El-Arish, not knowing whether we would get through the border, not knowing whether the truckload of bright pink playground equipment would be let in, or that less than twelve hours ago, we were still in the no-man's-land of the cavernous Rafah border terminal. It has been such an amazing day and there have been so many experiences to process in such a short time.

First, I must say that we owe a huge, enormous debt to the three delegations who went through the crossing ahead of us. They had some scary moments (being surrounded by riot cops at a checkpoint) and headaches (five hours spent waiting because one member had some out-of-date paperwork) but there is absolutely no doubt that the relative ease with which we passed through the border was due entirely to them, and to the other delegations who have been persistently chipping away at this border in the past few months.

We were cautiously optimistic when we cruised through the first Egyptian military checkpoint on the road from El-Arish to Rafah (the one where the aforementioned riot cops descended). But we knew that we could be turned back at literally any moment, so everyone was just a tiny bit on edge (and sometimes more than that) for the entire day. There were four checkpoints in all, then we approached the gate on the Egyptian side of the border. I was on the first of three buses, and we got through the gate in just a few minutes' time--far faster than organizers said previous delegations had been allowed in.

The Rafah border terminal looks kind of like a vast airline terminal waiting area. It's quite large and modern, and could probably be quite efficient if it were allowed to be open. But when we arrived it was deserted.

Our spirits rose another notch when the truck of playground equipment rolled through the gate, but then took an immediate hit when we learned that the last bus had been stopped and two Egyptian citizens were not being allowed in. (Other than Palestinians, Egyptians have one of the hardest times getting into Gaza.) Everyone had known from the start that it would be difficult to impossible for them to get in. After intense negotiations, we were unable to get them in and they were turned back--but the rest of us were allowed to proceed.

There was much debate about whether there was anything more we could have done to try to help them get in, and whether some members of the delegation should stay back and try to help them get in the next day. Some people were angry that we decided to leave them, but I think the organizers made the right call. After all, their responsibility is to the delegation as a whole and to the people of Gaza. Their judgement was confirmed when we received a call from the two Egyptians telling us unequivocally that we were to go into Gaza and they did not want anyone to stay out and wait for them. The whole incident was just a reminder that, unfortunately, we're not all equal when it comes to borders--and that we, as Americans, have even more of a responsibility to use the privilege given to us by an American passport as a weapon against injustice when we can.

After about three hours of waiting (a VERY short time compared to what Palestinians have to face on the rare occasions this crossing is open--currently two days a month if you're lucky) we received the all-clear to proceed down a long hallway to the other side of the terminal. It was then onto a bus (15 Egyptian pounds) that literally drove us across a parking lot to the gate on the Rafah side. As we waited for everyone to board, we could just see a Palestinian flag welcoming us, half hidden behind a tree.

When the last gate finally opened, what a feeling! There was a whole contingent of UNRWA folks waiting for us at the passport control point with huge smiles. We were so overwhelmed with joy to finally reach Gaza that customs became a rather haphazard affair, but no one seemed to care in the least. ("Don't worry, it's not like the other side of the border," one of the customs officials told us jovially when people had questions about a form.)

We had yet another moment of delight in store for us on the Gaza side of the border. Linda, one of our delegates from Canada, met her Palestinian fiance face-to-face for the first time. They met on the internet and had sustained an eight-year long-distance relationship through phone, email, instant messenger and webcam chats, and today they will finally get married in Gaza. Her goal is to get him to Canada within the next year, where he'll finally be able to meet her five children (from a previous marriage) face to face.

There was quite a lot of Palestinian and international media there to meet us as well, and the emotions were a bit overwhelming. We were thanked and welcomed by everyone available, and no one seemed to mind too much that getting our 64-person delegation to do anything as a group is rather like herding cats.

After a joyful chaos of retrieving luggage and passports, we were on (cushy, air-conditioned) buses headed for Khan Younis and our official welcome by John Ging, Gaza director of UNRWA.

When one drives into Gaza, the wall is literally the first thing you see. It's a strange world--at first many buildings look completely undamaged, but when you look closer you notice bullet and shell holes in many of the walls. And then, out of nowhere, something will be completely demolished.

Unlike the previous legs of our trip, when we had an Egyptian police escort, we now had UN cars with blue flags fluttering in front of us. We skirted the edge of Rafah and then headed to the Khan Younis Training Center, a UN-run two-year college built in what used to be an Israeli settlement. We learned that the Israelis demolished all the buildings in the settlement before evacuating in 2005. Gazans have begun constructing new homes in the empty area, but construction is only half complete because it's so difficult to import construction materials.

The Khan Younis Training Center is finished, however, and has beautiful grounds. John Ging and the large, incredibly friendly UNRWA staff that is assigned to help and protect us at every possible moment gave us the warmest of welcomes, as is the general rule here in Palestine. When Medea talked about the playground equipment and toys we were able to bring in (after UNICEF was told by Israel that such things were not a "humanitarian necessity"), I swear, John's face lit up like a kid in a candy shop.

After John's welcome speech (which I filmed and will post later), we were treated to an outdoor feast, which we shared with our new UNRWA friends. 98% of the staff of UNRWA (the organization that administers schools and refugee camps in Gaza and the West Bank) are local Palestinians. Everyone who has actually been to Palestine knows that Palestinians have to be the friendliest people on the planet. "Welcome! You can think of Gaza as your home now too," was the first thing one man said to me after introducing himself. After being stuffed to the gills with a vast array of delicious food (including some really yummy custard desert), the organizers cranked up some Arabic dance music on the huge outdoor speakers and the evening ended with a crazy dabke dance party. The enthusiasm with which everyone from the chef to security guys in suits, men and women, got into it was probably the highlight of a really amazing day. To see people so overflowing with life and joy in a place where you'd expect the complete opposite is moving beyond words. This is the reason internationals fall in love with this place.

Of course, it's Gaza, so hope and despair, joy and tragedy are already running right up against each other. Nothing expressed that more than our bus ride to the hotel, on a narrow two-lane road running on a hill above a stunningly beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean--in which we could clearly see Israeli gunboats lurking on the horizon. The same UNRWA folks who had been dancing up a storm half an hour before filled the bus ride with tales of the occupation and of things damaged or destroyed during "the last war," which is what everyone here calls the December/January attacks. This used to be the Israeli settlement that cut Gaza in half, making it impossible to cross from north to south. That used to be an Israeli military prison. We passed the presidential residence, once a beautiful house overlooking the water, now a pile of rubble with one Daliesque staircase ascending into nowhere.

Perhaps the eeriest thing is that you can actually look from the beach road across the flat expanse of the middle of Gaza and see red warning lights blinking in the distance--the border, there to remind everyone just how small this place is, and how closed in.

I am spending the night in the incongruously swanky seaside Commodore Hotel, since the Marna House, where we will be staying the rest of the time, is still mostly full with the student delegation that is leaving tomorrow morning. It is really surreal to be sitting in the marble lobby of a luxury hotel in Gaza City.

The UN folks have planned a really amazing (and jam-packed) itinerary for us. We've already seen so much in just the few hours that we have been here, it's almost unreal. We are so incredibly happy to be here, and everyone we have met has been so friendly, open and welcoming and happy that we are here. "Gaza good?" asked the guy who absolutely refused to let me carry my bags up to my room. "Yes, very good!" I replied enthusiastically, and he beamed.

P.S. Apparently over 10,000 people have signed Codepink's petition calling on Obama to visit Gaza when he comes to the Middle East in early June--and you should too!