| Gaza, Palestine
28.4
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 |
cairo (2) |
| Gaza, Palestine
28.4
|
|
cairo (2) |
Security, security -- this little border makes the (former) one
between the two Germanies look downright tame. The border with Egypt
is separated by no less than six (6) electric and/or barbed wire fences
at car-width intervals, with some "lanes" undoubtedly mined, and lots of
watch towers and dual remote-controlled gates, all this being on the Israeli
side alone.
Passangers to Gaza International are first shipped to the Israeli checkpoint at Rafah, where their bodies and possessions are combed with a toothpick -- the metallic zipper pulls of my money belt were enough to make their hypersensitive detector beep and I even had to pass my metal-tipped combat boots through the X-ray machine. And now we sit here, waiting for the bus back, which is standing right outside but nobody is being allowed on board...
The it-would-be-funny-if-it-wasn't-reality part is that the sole point of this entire exercise is to rub in the fact that Gaza is not sovereign, but under Israeli control. Remember, after passing through all these formalities you'll still only be in Palestine: the procedure for getting out of Gaza into Israel itself will be at least as grueling -- or simply impossible, for million-plus of refugees who have been languishing in this 40x6 km square since 1967, some of whom have never left the Strip. Israeli restraints on the economy (for a long time it was illegal to start a business that could compete with an Israeli company!) have kept the unemployment rate at 60% and only now, with partial autonomy, are things slowly starting to pick up.
But at least the sight of a Palestinian police officer chatting up a cute Israeli passport control girl shows that there is still hope. A shame that I'd probably get executed if I tried to take a picture...
40 minutes of flight, 3.5 hours of passport control, baggage inspections,
filling out forms and general hassling. Multiply that number by the
365 days in a year and the 35 years that have passed since occupation,
and you may start to understand the Intifadah.
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TV reports and the undeniable reality of 95% of the population aside, Gaza is not all miserable refugee camps -- the downright posh suburb of Rimal is where Palestine's small elite lives and the brand-new Windmill Hotel is just a stone's throw, if you'll excuse the expression, from Arafat's villa. Compared to local incomes the prices are stratospheric, but then again, the place is primarily targeted to siphon off the extra funds of UN apparatchiks and other rich foreigners.
And really, compared to the grubbier parts of Egypt, viewed as a whole Gaza isn't that bad. Much of the foreign aid has been put to good use, with schools and whatnot springing up all over the place. But at least there is one relic of the bad old days: the unique bazaar known as the PLO Flag Shop, where you can indeed buy Palestinian flags, huggable camels and the one and only, the world-famous, the awe-inspiring, the absolutely, positively unique flotation device known as... the inflatable Yasser Arafat.
Imagine a tennis racket made of flat, white plastic. Now adorn the edges of the racket with the black-and-white checkering of a keffiyah (Arafat's trademark headgear), paste a color picture of the familiar fuzzy visage in the middle, and then pump that face full of hot air so it bulges out into a lentil shape.
