NOVANEWS
Joseph Glatzer is president of the Students for Justice in Palestine chapter at Cal State Northridge. He visited Gaza earlier this month. His report:
When we were almost at the Rafah border I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. What shot through my consciousness like a lightning bolt was, “If it’s this hard for people with Western citizenship and passports to get into Gaza, what must life be like for the people there?”
The heartbreaking reality suddenly sunk in: I was about to visit some of the most isolated and oppressed people on the face of the Earth.
Going to Gaza was a truly wonderful and life-changing experience for me. I can say this despite the issues which arose. I never considered getting off the bus for a second. I didn’t care what anyone on the phone said. My focus was consistent from start to finish: the children of Gaza. In this blog entry I seek to share some of the highlights and lowlights of my trip.
When we finally made it to Gaza, I almost couldn’t believe it. I had been dreaming of that moment for so long. It had been about two years since I saw Janeane Garofalo on Real Time with Bill Maher, read the Israel Lobby, and became obsessed with Palestine.
There’s no place in the world like Gaza. It’s filled with contradictions of tragedy and joy, laughter and tears, beauty and devastation.
The Beauty of Gaza City
The air was clean and pure. I wasn’t ready for the palm trees and lush greenery. What kept going through my head is: in a just world Gaza would fund its economy on beachfront tourism.
When I met Gazan Palestinians I found out what made them so dangerous. I saw what the US, Israel, and Egypt worked so hard to conceal…
We Receive a Hero’s Welcome from the People of Gaza
They are some of the most loving, accepting, best educated, and peaceful people in the world. This is dangerous information because if it were to get out, it might become impossible for Israel to slaughter and terrorize them with the US’s full throated support. They are not terrorists.
I was surprised to find many of the Hamas government’s rank in file to be reasonable, intelligent, and generous.
One night Nuha Masri and I got fed up with what we started to feel was “disaster tourism”. Taking pictures of the devastation from a moving vehicle, which we weren’t allowed to get off of, wasn’t exactly what we had in mind when we signed up for the Gaza Freedom March.
I’ve come to learn that numbers don’t move people. They won’t matter to Americans as long as they see basically see Palestinians as terrorists. The only way to change people’s minds in America is to go around their bias straight to their hearts. To me: this means humanizing Gaza’s struggle by bringing back and sharing personal stories, videos, and pictures.
I explained this to one of our Hamas government minders. I told him we need to talk to people and get their stories. We need to put names and faces to the numbers. We need to see the dire living conditions, not just the Gaza Strip’s nicest neighborhoods.
Upon several minutes of intense discussion in Arabic with some other guards, he agreed to take a few of us in a taxi to Khan Younis. As we headed south from the center of Gaza, the scenery began to change. The roads became rockier, and my feeling that “Gaza isn’t doing so bad” began to slip away.
A Street in Khan Younis
I asked him why doesn’t Hamas take us to places like this, and let us talk to regular people in the slums? He replied, “They are just trying to make sure you stay safe, but they go too far sometimes,” he continued, “If it were up to me, I would take you to refugee camps and you would be staying at my home.”
We went on a brief tour of the neighborhood where he himself lives. We stopped at a small store to buy food for the family we were going to visit; the electricity went out in the middle of our shopping.
Next, we ran into one of his friends working at his felafel stand. The friend asked me if our Hamas chaperone was feeding me his opinions about politics. I said, “No, not really.” I wanted to know why he asked, and he told me his neighbor was Fateh. I couldn’t believe it. They started going back and forth in Arabic with Hamas/Fateh jokes; which were occasionally translated to me by Nuha.
I asked our Hamas friend how this was possible. He said, “We don’t like Abu Mazen and Mohammed Dahlan, but there are a lot of good Fateh people. It’s the leaders that have the problems.”
We then visited Mr. Ramadan and his family; one of the poorest in the area. He has nine daughters, and one son.
Two of Mr. Ramadan’s Ten Children
Three of his daughters attend the Islamic University of Gaza, but they don’t have the option of studying over frappucino’s at the Khan Younis Starbucks. He showed us the small table where the family’s 8 university students have to study. It’s also the 10×10 feet room where 11 people have to sleep.
A Bed and Study Materials on the Floor of the Kitchen
On average, Federal Prison cells in the US are 8×10 feet. There was a blanket on the floor in the kitchen, which is also someone else’s bedroom.
I asked one of the daughters about her life in Gaza. Her arms crossed, she spoke at a rapid pace. I got the feeling she hadn’t had many opportunities to express her feelings of disgust at the injustice of it all. She told me, “Life in Gaza is very difficult. We lack the basic needs of life because of the occupation. There are no jobs. The blockade has affected all aspects of life: politically, economically, spiritually. It has left people without jobs. Unemployment is increasing horribly.”
I asked her what she wanted to tell Americans, “The United States is the most powerful country in the world; so they should pressure Israel to stop settlements in the West Bank, pressure Israel to withdraw from the West Bank, and open all the crossings and borders with the Gaza Strip.”
Living under incredible poverty; she still thought of her brothers and sisters in the West Bank. Israel’s policy of separation hasn’t worked.
Misery and shame were written on Mr. Ramadan’s face; he hasn’t been able to find a job since the 2nd Intifada. He is only 45, but his hair is totally white and he looks more like 60. Robbing a man of the ability to provide for his family robs him of his dignity and self-respect.
Mr. Ramadan said, “The current situation in Gaza is much worse than the crisis of 1948. Without the American assistance through the CHF, we would die.” He lamented the loss of the pre-1948 life of Palestinians providing for themselves, and working their own land, “The Policy of the US and the UN is to keep people poor. When people are poor, they will only be able to think about barely surviving, not obtaining their rights.”
He has a broken bone in his chest, but he can’t even get medicine to relieve the pain, let alone surgery to fix the problem. He said he wanted more Americans to come on convoys to Gaza, so they can understand the situation, and send back reports to the US to tell the truth to Americans.
He said his dream is for peace, justice, and freedom to come to Gaza, “We want to establish peace with Israel, with any country. We do not deny the existence of Israel. Israel has a nation, and Palestinians have a nation. Our conflict is not with the Israeli people; our conflict is with the Israeli government.”
I asked him what Americans should know about Gaza and the Palestinians, “You are American, and I am Palestinian. We are in one room, we love each other, we are friends. I hope you will feel at home among us in Gaza. We are a civilized nation. We don’t hate other nations of the world. We are not religious fundamentalists, everyone has their own religion. My religion doesn’t prevent me from shaking hands with you, or letting you stay at my place. This is our religion. You must convey this message to the American people.”
I’ve never seen poverty as desperate as that of the Ramadan family. America’s poor live like kings compared to the poor in Gaza. But, I also learned something about Palestinian resilience. They never give up. As one of the guys from the Islamic University told me, “We are the people of hope.”
On a happier note, the New Year’s Eve, Gaza City hip hop party was one of the funnest nights of my life.
Partying in Palestine on New Year’s Eve at the Commodore Hotel in Gaza City
It was the night I got to meet two of my Gazan friends I had talked to on Facebook for months: Ahmed Hashem of the Islamic University of Gaza and Jehad Abu Saleem of Al-Azhar University of Gaza.
Jehad Abu Saleem, Me, & Ahmed Hashem
This was also the night I stopped seeing Palestinians as simply victims I was there to help. I started to see Palestinians as full human beings; they were my equals who happened to live in difficult and unjust circumstances.
It was the first time I talked to Gazan Palestinians the same way I would any of my friends back home. Palestinian college students talk about girls, text message, and watch Hollywood movies; just like college students anywhere else.
Another highlight of my trip was visiting the Al-Amal Institute for Orphans. Hamas had been tightly controlling our every move, so it was a welcome relief to have this opportunity. When we arrived, the children were gathered into boys and girls clusters.
A few of us didn’t wait for official permission, and started walking over to the little girls when we got off the bus.
The girls of Al-Amal Institute for Orphans in Gaza City
These adorable little girls dutifully scurried up to us one by one; shaking our hands with professional precision. You could tell they had practiced extensively for this moment. The taboo among devout Muslims of women shaking men’s hands was broken in the Islamist-ruled Gaza Strip. We had a great time hanging out with the kids.
Poya Pakzad Plays Basketball with the Boys
Sitting down with the children for our meal was a really special experience for me. There were 1 or 2 Marchers surrounded by 3 or 4 children at each table.
Lunch at Al-Amal Institute Awaits
At first, there were only enough drinks for all but one of us at our table. I tried to give mine up for one of them, but they wouldn’t let me. I was amazed that even the young and orphaned displayed the famous Palestinian hospitality.
Me & Three of the Boys of the Al-Amal Institute for Orphans
The children were so smart and mature beyond their years. One proudly proclaimed his allegiance to Fateh. Several others started commenting on Obama and Abu Mazen in their limited English. These kids were more politically aware than a lot of the people in the Political Science department at Cal State Northridge.
The fun wasn’t to last for long however. The Hamas officials rushed us out of the orphanage with zeal after only one hour. We had something much more important to attend to: Hamas rules soccer.
We arrived at the soccer stadium to play the local Al Jazeera team (no relation to the TV channel). When we got there, they were in the midst of doing warm up maneuvers around the field. They were decked out in soccer shorts and cleats, but we weren’t allowed to go back to the hotel to change into shorts or switch sandals for shoes. No time for proper sports attire, a Hamas photo op awaits!
The internationals playing in jeans and dress pants was quite the spectacle. Was this Hamas’s way of embarrassing us; in retaliation for complaining about our lack of freedom of movement? The motivation behind this strange game is still unclear.
When the women strode onto the field with the rest of us men, one bulky but well dressed and clean shaven Hamas official was irate. He demanded the women not play, because it would “offend the religious men of the home team”. This was a matter of “our religion, our morals, and our values”.
His boots shook with the perils of: “the men chasing after the women instead of the ball”. Is this what Islam is about? Which verse in the Koran preaches the righteousness of segregated soccer matches? Two veiled Muslim women posed these questions; questioning the authenticity of the Hamas interpretation of “Islamic values”.
Nuha Masri, a student at California’s UC Berkeley, vocally challenged the Hamas intransigence. The young, petite Palestinian-American proved a powerful advocate for an integrated soccer match.
Nuha Masri and a Gazan Baby on the Sidelines of the Hamas Soccer Match
She said that she plays sports with Muslim guys all the time back home, and nobody made a big deal about it. The Hamas men retorted, “This isn’t the West Bank”. Apparently, those Fateh fruitcakes are traitors to men! That Abu Mazen and his treacherous integrated sports regime on the West Bank!
A compromise was finally reached, there would be two halves of play. One would be all men. The second would be strictly the internationals; women would be allowed to play. The compromise went up in flames. After the first half there was an extended break to allow time for another photo op, and then it was time for another round of all men’s soccer.
After the game, Nuha gave an interview for what I think was Al Aqsa TV (Hamas’s propaganda channel). She said something along the lines of, “I had a great time, but maybe next time Hamas will let the women play”. Berkeley liberalism meets Palestinian liberation. I was very impressed with her courage to stand up for women’s rights to Hamas. It was one of my highlights of the trip.
On a sadder note, we had left the orphaned children of Gaza for that Al Aqsa TV sideshow. We spent 1 hour at the orphanage and 3 hours at the “game”. Apparently a photo op for Hamas is triply as important as the children of Gaza.
The song playing on the speaker system of the stadium throughout the day was the same song being played on a loop at the March. At first I thought it was just a cool song with a good beat. Later that night at the Commodore Hotel, I learned the truth. As usual, the hotel lobby’s television featured Al Aqsa TV.
First was a segment about us on the soccer field. There we were, the useful propaganda idiots lining up for endless pictures, flag waving, and useless chants of “Free Palestine”. There I am, playing goalie with my jeans on, jumping around trying to stop a goal.
Next, a music video came on which featured the same familiar song I heard earlier. As I looked closer, I saw masked Hamas militants marching with machine guns. Next up for good measure were choice shots of Hamas militants launching Qassam rockets.
Some of the peaceful lyrics are: “Don’t give up. It’s time to answer. So prepare the rockets, prepare…Launch the Qassam rockets, Launch the Qassam rockets, Launch the Qassam Rockets (repeats throughout the song)”
Did I sign up to be the opening act for the Hamas theme song? Should a peace march be associated in tandem with the launching of missiles of death and destruction?
I know that if given the chance any government will manipulate and mislead for its own political purposes. That’s what governments do. But, I wish the trip organizers could have put the brakes on something that totally went against our mission statement of peace and nonviolence. I hate to say it, but I really feel like the Hamas government used the Marchers as political props for its own advantage. When I got home and had an Arabic-speaker translate the lyrics to the Hamas song for me, I was shocked and got a really sickening feeling.
How dare they play a song about launching Qassam rockets at our peaceful Gaza Freedom March?
Everything in Amira Hass’s recent Haaretz article about the trip was true. She told me on the bus ride there, “A lot of people on the left have an idealistic view of Hamas, they are not an emancipatory movement. They are not a popular movement.” At the time I didn’t want to believe it. Now, I know exactly what she meant. I know the people of CODEPINK to be hard working, patient, and generous with their time. When we got to Gaza, they had the thankless job of organizing our trip with a shortened staff. I’m sure some of the decisions were made on the fly without a chance to consider everything.
I still wish they would have put their feet down on the men-only soccer game going forward. Let me add: we were sleep deprived and disoriented. It took us almost a full 24 hours from leaving Cairo to get to our hotel in Gaza. And the way we were being used for photo ops only slowly sunk in. I didn’t play the second round of the soccer game because that’s when it finally was clear to me.
The seeming fetishization of the Neturei Karta anti-Zionist Rabbis/Gaza Freedom Marchers also concerned me. Whenever PressTV, Al-Aqsa TV, or any Arab satellite channel was around, they would always put NK front and center. Some of us were especially bothered that they were featured so prominently at the actual March; instead of any of Gaza’s women. Showing the children at the orphanage that Judaism doesn’t mean supporting Israeli violence against Palestinians was important, but the endless limelight seemed like another sideshow.
Then there was the undeniably well-intentioned older couple from Northern California who let their dog out at the March. Gallivanting around with a tiny dog at a protest march– another sideshow.
Much has been made of the chaos that went down in Cairo on the day of our planned departure for Gaza. 100 of us were on the sidewalk beside the buses, with bags packed, ready to go to Gaza.Then CODEPINK stepped in and made a statement that we shouldn’t get on the busses, because their decision to accept the deal to send 100 marchers was made in haste.
A CODEPINK Official Tells us to Go Back to our Hostels, not to Gaza
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Our hopes, dreams and money were wrapped up in getting to Gaza. We had been protesting and risking arrest and police brutality for days. Only a few hours before, we were told we’re going to Gaza. They really had to know they weren’t going to be able to convince everyone not to go.
Walden Bello tries in Vain to Talk Some Sense into the Crowd; Col. Ann Wright tries to Mediate the Dispute and Avoid Disaster
Hedy Epstein, the 85-year-old Holocaust survivor from St. Louis, was brought out to make a grand speech. She wanted us to know that she was staying and the rest of us should too! In Barnabe Geisweiller’s summary of the trip, Hedy Epstein is quoted as saying: “I’m determined to go to Gaza.”
It was completely confusing. And I don’t know who to blame. There were many CODEPINK people like Rae Abileah, Tighe Barry, and Jodie Evans, who were amazing and worked very hard for us. With this said: most of us who stayed on the bus knew we witnessed an organizational failure that day.
We left Cairo in disbelief of what just happened, and some people were very upset and crying over the names we were called by those who didn’t think we should go. Some of those who had most loudly insisted they would go if they could get on the list were among the angriest in denouncing the bus dwellers bound for Gaza as traitors to Palestine. And some members of this “rejectionist front” later desperately sought to find a way to get to Gaza on their own.
Upon returning to Cairo after 2 days of mixed experiences in Gaza, I couldn’t get my dream to see the rest of Palestine off my mind. I decided to embark on the 8 hour bus ride to Taba, Egypt; so I could cross the border into Israel and make it to the West Bank.
As far as I know I was the only Gaza Freedom Marcher with a “Gaza Stamp” on my passport, to make it through the border into Israel. Following my entry, I was able to visit Jerusalem: West, East, and the Old City; Bethlehem, Ramallah, and Hebron. I feel very lucky I had the rare chance to see all the parts of historic Palestine, including what is now Israel.
In days to come, I will share stories about the rest of my inspiring, life-changing and sometimes heartbreaking journey through Palestine.
