For three years, I have dreamed of Gaza. I want to be there to sit among some of the most generous and brave people I know. The Palestinians of Gaza are not special, but because of their long history of isolation and deprivation, like other populations that have known too much war and violence, the society has learned to persevere and thrive. They maintain their dignity.
The Lancet has been studying the effects of stress on the Palestinian population of Gaza and the West Bank for the last three years. A report conducted with women who gave birth during Operation Cast Lead and with midwives who helped them during this time observed:
The women and midwives described childbirth during the bombings, with dead and injured people around them; and how they coped with the violence, fear, uncertainty, and the loneliness and pain of waiting for labour to begin, for the baby to be born, and to be reunited with their loved ones. As one woman said “nights were like ‘ghouls’…I was not thinking like other people in face of death or shelling…but was only thinking of my case! What would happen if I had labour pains at night? How will I manage? They were shelling even ambulances! Nights were like nightmares. Each morning I breathed a sigh of relief that daylight had appeared.” ... Women came to terms with what they had lived through by focusing on everyday life...and by looking after the survival of their families, which seemed to be essential for reconstructing their fragmented existence.
I keep in touch with friends in Gaza and keep promising them that I will be there soon. The Israeli siege of Gaza makes that promise hard to keep right now, but I am with them in prayer and spirit each day.
Last summer my friend Joan, a brilliant filmmaker who lived in Gaza for many years in the 1980s, visited Gaza for the first time in over a decade. I spoke to her on the phone for hours upon her return. Here is what I wrote after we hung up the phone:
I couldn't be a journalist
I didn't write one word
There were 50 people sleeping in the house
And with only six hours of electricity each day
I forgot to charge my camera battery
I cry easily
but I was surprised
by all the crying I witnessed
Ahmed's sister's house was full of bullet holes
the refrigerator remains full of holes
"Why replace it when it could happen again?"
At the beach, on the weekends
you could sense people's relief
Eating bizir and corn
the sound of the waves as background
people laughing...
Maybe things will be normal again one day.
I wish that I was on that small French boat making its way to Gaza now. I know the passengers will be greeted as long-lost friends. Welcome to Palestine! Ahla wa Sahla!
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