Washington Report, December 2005, pages 20-21

Gaza on the Ground

Out of Sorrow, Celebration—A Divided City Reunites After Israel’s Withdrawal

By Mohammed Omer

Residents of the formerly divided city of Rafah gather at the Philadelphia Corrider to reunite with friends and loved ones (Rafah Today).

KHALIL Mansour jumped from a six-foot-high wall carrying a bucket full of cheese, dry milk and other foodstuffs. For the first time in 38 years, the Israeli army’s withdrawal from the Gaza Strip has meant the unofficial resumption of trade between Egypt and Gaza. It doesn’t matter that the politicians are wrangling over border formalities: Palestinians from throughout Gaza have been finding their way over, around, and through the iron wall that turned Rafah into a divided city for decades. Mansour was still munching a piece of guava as he jumped from the wall. “I came here from Al Arish,” he said, “and last night, I slept at the house of my father, who lives on the Egyptian side.”

Mansour was just one drop of water in an ocean of thousands of Palestinians going toward the Egyptian territories. ”As soon as I heard that the border was open and you could cross without a visa,” said Abu Amjad Abdelwahed, 23, “I raced to eat a fresh fish meal at Al Arish,” an Egyptian town famed for its seafood.

As he was talking, a few feet away Abu Ibrahim, 44, was lining up boxes, electric machines, cartons of cigarettes and a few gallon cans that smelled like petrol. “This is very wonderful,” he exclaimed, “and we hope the road will remain open longer and these checkpoints and walls will be removed. I bought these things in Al Arish and will be able to sell them in Gaza at double what I paid for them,” he added.

This scene of burgeoning commerce is taking place on the once-dreaded Philadelphia Corridor, the razed no-man’s-land that was the scene of so many of the intifada’s tragedies. This wide boulevard, still bearing the marks of Israeli tanks, was once a flourishing, united neighborhood. Then Israel’s treaty with Egypt divided the city of Rafah—and, in many cases, homes and families—in two. As the conflict intensified, the dividing wall grew taller and more heavily fortified, while the razed zone inexorably ate away at Rafah’s border neighborhoods.

Early in the days of divided Rafah, Palestinian families would set sunset appointments to shout their greetings back and forth at a given point in the wall. For the elderly and those with weak voices, this provided a small cottage industry for young people, who for a few coins would shout messages. When the Israeli army finally withdrew from Gaza, families which for a generation had known each other only by voice and name were reunited.

The Egyptian government welcomed the Palestinians entering their country for a few days, considering this a simple gift to help Gazans purge some of the sorrow and frustration left by 38 years of occupation.

Amna Al Masri was beside herself with joy when she finally saw her children and husband. Her children had grown to adulthood and her husband had grown old while trying and failing to get a permit from the Israelis to bring his Egyptian wife into Rafah. Now, she kept touching her children, as if to reassure herself they were truly flesh and blood, not merely a beautiful fantasy.

In May 2004, during Israel’s infamous Operation Rainbow, Israeli soldiers opened seven sniper positions in the iron wall. Upon their departure, Palestinians widened those openings, sometimes with their bare hands, to make the crossing easier for the elderly. During the five years of the intifada, Rafah often has been described as a “dead” city, but now its children realized they could enjoy their own country without fearing the bullets of an occupying army.

Many adults, of course, were concerned with commerce. In the first hours after disengagement, the money-changing stalls in Rafah completely ran out of Egyptian pounds. Soon the petrol stations were empty as well. Through the entire length of Gaza, “Have you been to Al Arish?” was the question on everyone’s lips. The town’s wonderful beachfront restaurants soon ran out of food. Even supermarket shelves were emptied. “People from Gaza bought everything,” one supermarket manager explained. “This was a fully-stocked milk and cheese section. Now…”

He gestured toward bare shelves, but he was grinning broadly.

Many Egyptians were the first to enter Gaza to offer their blessings and congratulations, and to see for themselves the recently emptied Jewish settlements. Interestingly, Gaza merchants are doing a brisk business selling to the Egyptians Western-style “designer jeans”—some of which end up in Gazan souks but are virtually impossible to find in upper Egypt.

So it was a week of wide smiles and tears of joy at the Gaza Egypt border. We must never forget, however, that this is the place where innocents were slaughtered, entire civilian neighborhoods destroyed, and lives and dreams routinely shattered by the occupation. Moreover, as Israel continues to build its apartheid wall in the West Bank, the possibility exists of many more Rafahs. Happiness, hope and wide smiles have been exchanged on the Egyptian border, but still we should remember that this land where the wall is located is Palestinian land, hundreds of Palestinians have been killed and injured on it, thousands of houses have been demolished, and many were killed while they were inside their houses. For people who have endured as much as have the people of Gaza, a celebration certainly is in order—but no one can forget the many killed and injured here as well.

Mohammed Omer reports from Rafah in the Gaza Strip, where he maintains the Web site <http://www.rafahtoday.org>. He can be contacted at < This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it >.