Category: Gaza

Christmas in Gaza

by Ruqaya Izzidien

24 December 2011 | Al Akhbar English

(Photo: Ruqaya Izzidien, Al Akhbar English) – Click here for more images

This Christmas marks the third anniversary of the 2008-2009 Israeli war on the Gaza Strip; a winter in which 19-year-old Ramy El Jelda saw his home bombed just two days after Christmas. He returned to the site a couple of days later to find his Christmas decorations scattered across the road.

“The baubles and bells were on the floor. The tree had been blown out of the house and was in the street. We cried. That is how we celebrated Christmas in 2008.”

Today the small number of Christmas trees that grace Gaza are primarily plastic and limited to Christian households, hotel lobbies and uptown restaurants. The Israeli blockade leaves Christmas tree fairy lights in a ghostly darkness during the daily eight-hour rolling blackouts.

For Ramy and the 3,000-strong Christian community in Gaza, festive Christmas celebrations go hand-in-hand with isolation and travel restrictions to Bethlehem, despite Israeli public claims to the contrary.

But this year holds hope for a happier occasion, despite the obstacles that Palestinian Christians in Gaza continue to face.

“Christmas helps children remember they are young,” explained Ramy, describing the traditions of the Greek Orthodox community, which celebrates Christmas on January 7. “On Christmas Day we go to our grandmother’s house and my whole family has lunch together. It is a small Eid (feast) but we celebrate for three days, visiting each others’ homes.”

Jaber El Jelda, a distant relative of Ramy, is the director of the Orthodox Church, one of Gaza’s few churches, along with the Baptist Church and Holy Family Catholic Church. He explained how the Orthodox Christian community marks the occasion.

“We organize a party on the first of January and offer children gifts, celebrating Christmas with songs and folklore and the traditional Palestinian dabka dance. We, and members of the Baptist and Catholic churches celebrate in each others’ celebrations. We’re like one.”

Although Christmas in Gaza bears a resemblance to its portrayal in other countries, the echoes are overwhelmingly superficial, as Ramy explained, “We put up a tree in the home and decorate it with bells. We put candles and holly around the house and children receive gifts of money, called eideyya.”

Ramy considers Christmas in Gaza to be disconnected to festivities outside of the siege. “Christmas in Gaza is different; it is a local celebration, not connected to Christmas outside. We don’t really ‘do’ Santa and it’s not like I’ve seen Christmas celebrated in the movies.”

Bethlehem off-limits: Israel’s Facade of Tolerance

Christmas for Gaza’s Palestinians entails far more complications than complex wrapping and tree decorations. As a small minority in the coastal enclave, the Gaza Christian community would traditionally visit Bethlehem, Jerusalem or Ramallah for the festive season, joining their families and communities in a full celebration.

Ramy described how all Christians used to be permitted by the Israeli government to visit the West Bank for Christmas. “Now they only give permission to a few people and you must be over 35 or under 16. Invariably, if parents receive permission, the children don’t and vice versa.”

It is a loophole that many Palestinians believe is being exploited by the Israeli authorities. The Israeli authorities have advertised that 500 Christians are allowed to celebrate Christmas in their holy sites as a ‘goodwill gesture.’ But in practical terms, very few of those eligible are granted the right to make the fifty mile trip from Gaza to Jerusalem, and those who do have to sacrifice a Christmas with their families.

Jaber has given up requesting permission because his sons are at university and therefore will automatically be denied travel rights. “My uncle and cousins live in Ramallah, but I can’t celebrate Christmas with them because my children are over 16 and are therefore too old for permits. How could I go out of Gaza to celebrate Christmas if I can’t take my children? It’s ridiculous.”

Even the process of receiving permission is unreliable, Jaber explained. “My brother is 52 and wanted to go to the West Bank for Christmas, the Israeli authorities just told him that ‘although we know you aren’t a terrorist, we don’t want you in Israel.’ He had worked in Israel for about 25 years.”

For this reason, Ramy considers the Israeli publicity machine to be exploiting the Christian community, “The Israeli government does this to benefit from us, so that they can say that they allow Christians to go to Bethlehem for Christmas, but really we can’t practically go. They exploit us to improve their image.”

Jaber stressed how the Christian community in Gaza suffers at the hands of the Israeli authorities at other times of year too. “Our Greek priest and archbishop face problems getting to Gaza, even though they have diplomatic passports. They have to enter through Israel but sometimes access is denied.”

Muslim-Christian relationship

Ramy studies at the Hamas-run Islamic University, like a number of Christian students in Gaza. He was offered a place at Birzeit University, but he was forced to continue his education in Gaza, as Israel forbade him from studying in the West Bank.

Despite this, he enjoys his time at the Islamic University and says he is exempted from certain classes, like Quran study, to accommodate his beliefs. “All my friends are Muslims. I don’t care if my friends are Christian or not. My Muslim friends here in Gaza also wish me Merry Christmas and come to visit me at Christmas. So what the media says about Arabs and intolerance isn’t true.”

Jaber agrees that the relationship between Muslims and Christians is very good in general, although his church has experienced infrequent targeting. “Fourth months ago the cables for our church bells were cut, but now everything is good. The government told the community to leave us alone and this helped.”

He stressed that such attacks are unpleasant but not representative of Gazan Muslims as a whole, “It’s a minority of people who create problems; most people understand us and believe that we have our religion, and they have theirs.”

Rana Baker is a Palestinian Muslim who studied at the Catholic Holy Family School in Gaza City. “It was a great experience; at school, my Christian classmates fasted Ramadan with us and we celebrated Christmas with them. We had Islamic books and they had Christian books. I never saw any discrimination and, as a student, you were judged solely on your academic merit.”

Rana remarked that, however small the celebrations, the festive season is one that is marked and enjoyed in Gaza, even for Muslims. “I really love Christmas, I like to hang out with my Christian friends at this time of year. I wish them a happy Christmas and they do the same for me on Eid.

“The relationship between Muslims and Christians in Gaza is really good. Palestine is one of the few places left where Muslims and Christians are really close. We are brothers and sisters.”

Farming with a grain of salt

22 December 2011 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

Farming on land that has become almost impossible to farm is now daily reality for 62 year old Naeem El Laham, also known as Abu Mohammed. Together with his wife, 6 sons, 5 daughters and grandchildren he lives on his farm west of Khan Yunis.

“Our farming land stretches out over 2 dunums. My sons help me with the work on the land, just like I helped out my father on the land when I was younger,” says Abu Mohammed.

On his land he has small palm trees, beehives, 6 sheep, some olive trees, and a few vegetable plants. At first glance this looks like any small farm. It is only when you take a closer look at the plants and hear the story of Abu Mohammed, that you realize this farm is under serious threat.

“Until eight years ago we were able to buy water from a source nearby. However, that became too expensive.” Like many other farmers in the Gaza Strip the family is struggling for an affordable water supply, they dug their own water well in 2003.

“About four years after digging the well I noticed an increasing salinity in the water coming from our well” says Mohammed. “The plants deteriorated, as did the harvests. We used to plant vegetables on the land for our own consumption but since they only received salty water, these crops have stopped growing. Since 2003 we were growing lemon trees. When the salinity in the well water rose, the trees turned yellow and produced only small lemons with a salty taste.”

In 2010 Abu Mohammed decided to cut the lemon trees as they were no longer productive. He planted several dozen palm trees instead, as they are apparently more adaptable to the high salinity in the water. “It will take a several years for the trees to have a considerable size and even then, the dates that they produce will not be as profitable as the lemons we used to grow,” sighs Mohammed.

Until two years ago the family drank the water coming from the well, which made them ill. Mohammed explains how “most of our family members had kidney problems and the younger children were taken to hospital many times for kidney stones and vomiting. The doctor in the hospital convinced us to stop drinking water from the well and to buy treated water. This has put another big burden on our already stretched family budget.” Abu Mohammed describes how during Operation Cast Lead white phosphorus landed approximately 1.5 kilometers away from his farm. The smoke and fumes reached his farm and he noticed that his olive trees have stopped growing since.

Abu Mohammed and his family have tried everything they can to continue working the farm, but it seems to become more and more impossible. “We need help to replant our lands”, says Abu Mohammed as he speaks of his wish to continue the family tradition of farming.

Approximately 70,000 people work in the agricultural sector in the Gaza Strip, 25,000 of whom are seasonal workers. The coastal aquifer is their main source of irrigation water for the land. Due to a lack of other resources this aquifer is being over abstracted which leads to seawater and saline water intrusion. Sewage leaking into the ground water has also increased the already high nitrate levels. Advocacy group EWASH has stated; “In the past, agricultural production has ensured household food security for the Gazan population as well as contributed to economic security. Currently, agriculture in the Gaza Strip is barely viable.”

Demonstration in the no go zone, Beit Hanoun

by Nathan Stuckey

20 December 2011

Photo: Rosa Schiano, International Solidarity Movement – Click here for more images

Every Tuesday there is a demonstration against the occupation and the Israeli imposed no go zone that surrounds Gaza, stealing much of Gaza’s best farmland.  Today, it was unseasonably warm, it felt almost like summer.  We started our march from in front of the destroyed buildings Beit Hanoun Agricultural College.  Music played over a megaphone as we marched down the road into the no go zone.  As we got closer to the no go zone the music stopped, it got quiet.  Usually, when the music starts the chanting begins, but not today.  Everyone seemed to be lost in thought, perhaps pondering the green that has recently appeared in the no go zone.  The bulldozers haven’t come for many weeks to kill all life in the no go zones.  Perhaps they were remembering the olive trees, and orange groves that used to be here.  Perhaps they were thinking of the families that used to live in the destroyed houses that we were walking by.  Perhaps they were thinking of the houses that no longer exist, the houses that have been completely erased by the Israeli bulldozers.

We entered the no go zone and went to the flag that we left here several weeks ago.  It flies in the breeze, a reminder that this land is Palestinian, that while the people of Gaza might have been driven from their homes they have not yet been erased by the Israeli military like the orchards that used to grow in the no go zone.  We took the flag down.  We marched further into the no go zone, to land which no one had been to since May of 2000.  We made our way across the no go zone, land scarred dozens of times by the blades of Israeli bulldozers, to a small hill.  We climbed the hill and we planted the flag.  The ground was hard, it has not rained lately, but we found a soft spot and drove the flagpole into the earth.  We piled rocks around its base to strengthen it.  We looked out over 1948, the land which many residents of Beit Hanoun had been driven from 63 years ago.

We began to walk back to Beit Hanoun.  Through the no go zone, on land no one had been to in many years.  As always, when you go new places in Gaza you see new destruction which you had no inkling of before you stumbled upon, but it was always there, another untold story in the crimes of the occupation.  We paused by some rubble that I had seen many times on our marches into the no go zone, I never knew what it had been.  It was a well.  It had of course been destroyed by an Israeli bulldozer, all of the trees which it used to water ground under the treads of the same bulldozer.  The well is dry now.  Perhaps someday it will be repaired and orchards will once again thrive on this land.  Someday, after the occupation finally disappears into the pages of history.  Until then, it stands alongside the hundreds of Palestinian villages destroyed in the Nakba, alongside the thousands of homes destroyed by Israel, as a mute reminder of the crimes of Israel.

Israeli navy harasses Palestinian fishermen off Gaza coast

by Rosa Schiano

21 December 2011 | Civil Peace Service Gaza

Photo: Rosa Schiano, Civil Peace Service Gaza – Click here for more images

The Oliva sailed from Gaza Seaport at 8:15 am. The Palestinian captain and two international observers from CPS staff were on boardAt 8:45 am Oliva reached four hasakas in the north of the Strip, about 2.2 nautical miles off shore (31° 35.40N / 034° 26.29E).

At 9:20 am the crew sighted an Israelis navy vessel moving toward the four hasakas and Oliva at a high rate of speed. The four hasakas and Oliva started to move toward the coast. The Israeli navy vessel continued to run after the hasakas and Oliva reaching 1.5 nautical miles off shore (31° 34.68N / 034° 26.49E) and then hanging back.

At 10:20 am the same Israeli navy vessels approached the four hasakas which were within the area marked by the float located about 2 miles off shore on the northern limit imposed on Palestinian fishing area (31° 35.41N / 034° 26.57E), continuing harassing them and shooting several times in the water.

At 11:00 am the Israeli navy vessels hanged back and Oliva returned to the port of Gaza.

Background:

Restrictions on the fishing zone are of comparable significance to Palestinian livelihood. This area was supposed to be 20 miles according to the Jericho agreements from 1994 (under the Oslo accords), then it was reduced to 12 miles, to 6 miles and now to 3 miles since January 2009. The marine ‘buffer zone’ restricts Gazan fishermen from accessing 85% of Gaza’s fishing waters agreed to by Oslo.

Israel has been regularly attacking Palestinian fishermen within the purported 3 nautical mile fishing limit. The livelihood of many Gazans relies on fishing and Israel has been using live ammunition and water cannons to prevent fishermen from doing their work.

The Israeli Siege continues after more than 4 years, limiting the sea area available for the Gaza population.

The Civil Peace Services continue monitoring potential human rights violations at the sea in front of the Gaza Strip.

Drones in the shower, F-16s on the street: On leaving Gaza

by Radhika Sainath

20 December 2011 | Notes from Behind the Blockade

I made the long journey out of Gaza last week.  I must say, though I will miss the dozens of people who invited me into their homes, shared their stories, cooked me lunch, put up with my bad Arabic, boiled me countless glasses of rosemary tea and served me thick black coffee in petite rimless cups, I could not get out of there fast enough.

Gaza is not a pleasant place to be.  The Israeli occupation smothers and suffocates, it makes one highly attuned to one’s surroundings in unnatural ways, or ways that were once natural but should no longer be.

I never thought I’d look so forward to coming to Cairo, a congested, polluted city that I had little love for before the revolution. After a long journey though the Rafah crossing, across the Sinai and back to my hotel off Tahrir Square, I jumped in the shower. And then the humming noise started.  I froze, soap bar in hand.

“The drones are really loud,” I said, to no one in particular. They must be quite close.  And then I realized, it was just a malfunctioning bathroom fan.

I continued on with my shower, washing my face. The water had a curious scent to it. It also felt gentle and silky. I continue to sniff it, curious. Why, it was the scent of clean water of course! I had grown used to the salty, contaminated water I had been bathing in for two months; water that caused my skin to itch, my hair to smell like an old towel, and to fall out at greater frequency than normal.

Later in the evening, I met up with a friend for a drink nearby. Oh the joys of electricity! Not that the streets around Tahrir have street lights in the American sense — but the stores are lit. And those lights, in turn, made it possible to see where one was stepping! Not so in Gaza, where one has the pleasure of walking around in pitch blackness after 5:30 p.m., listening to Israeli drones overhead.  Indeed, the latter half of my going away party took place by candlelight.

Back at the hotel, the shifts had changed and Sami the “bill boy” from two months earlier waited outside.

“Oh hello!” he exclaimed. “Your head is very small,” he said in English. “Before, big, now small.” He gestured with his hand for emphasis. Indeed, I had lost a lot of weight. I switched to Arabic and told him I had been in Gaza, and he made fun of my “Palestinian accent,” pronouncing the “j” as a “j” instead of a “g” as they do in Cairo.

The next morning I awoke to the strange-sounding Israeli F-16s outside my window. Many of them. I unearthed myself from under the covers. I was in Cairo.  The Israeli Air Force was not outside, only morning commuters. What a relief! I walked around the city which was filled with things to buy, all kinds of things, spare car parts, stuffed toy camels, circuit boards, Bedouin necklaces, digital cameras and steaming bowls of delicious kushari.

Back in New York City, I found that Gaza had also rendered me unnaturally attuned to the normal sounds of industrial life.

I stepped out of the subway from JFK airport onto the crowded streets of midtown Manhattan in deep conversation about something. A helicopter suddenly flew overhead. I couldn’t concentrate; IAF Apache helicopters meant death. I kept walking past store after store, admiring New York’s creative uses of electricity, knowing full well that Eyewitness News wasn’t going to assassinate anyone, but unable to not keep an eye on it.

So I’m back in the United States, enjoying the luxury of knowing a foreign government won’t shoot at me, kidnap me, limit my electricity or cause my water to be non-potable.  But in the midst of the decorated trees, sparkly lights and mistletoe, I can’t forget that two days after Christmas 2008, Israel launched “Operation Cast Lead”, its 22-day offensive in Gaza, that Palestinians simply call “the War.”