25 May 2011 By Ramzy Baroud The Palestinian security officer at the Rafah
border was overly polite. He wore a black uniform and
walked around self-assuredly, as he instructed weary
travelers on their next moves before being allowed
back into Gaza. On the other side of the border, in
Egypt, there was much anxiety, fear and anticipation. ‘Things will get better,' said a Palestinian
engineer from Gaza, who once studied and now works in
a Swedish town south of Stockholm. What he meant was
that things will get better at the border crossing, in
terms of the relationship between Gaza and Egypt.
Without a decisive Egyptian decision to reopen the
crossing – completely – Gaza will continue to reel
under the Israeli siege. Others agree, but Gazans have
learned not to become too confident about political
statements promising positive changes. However, the Egypt of today belongs to an entirely
different political category to the Egypt of Hosni
Mubarak's leadership. Palestinians, especially those
trapped behind the shut borders in Gaza, are well
aware of this. Still they are cautious. ‘Inshallah' –
God willing, they say, ‘May Allah bring good things.' For now, things remain difficult at the border.
When Egyptian border officials collect passports for
examination, and return a few hours later to read
aloud the names of those allowed in, a large crowd
gathers around them. Tensions soon escalate to
yelling, and occasional tears. ‘Go back or I will not give any his passport back,'
shouted a large Egyptian officer with some disdain.
The veins on the side of his face suddenly bulked up.
The crowd disbanded, only to return seconds later. The
officer looked exhausted and clearly fed up. The Gaza
travelers had already moved beyond the point of
humiliation. They simply wanted to get from here to
there, and back. A young woman with a contorted back trotted behind
her mother. Her pain was apparent on her face. ‘Yallah
yamma,' – hurry, daughter - urged the mother. ‘They
might close the gate any minute.' The girl, in her
twenties, paused, closed her eyes tight, as if
summoning whatever strength remained in her frail body
to carry on for a few seconds longer. The gate of the Egyptian border point was very
wide, but only a small gap of a few feet was open.
When it opened, early Thursday, May 19, hundreds tried
to rush in at once. Large bags were tossed over
people's heads, children cried in panic, officers
yelled, and a few dared to yell back. ‘Just open the
gate, the big one,' someone said. A white-haired
little man, in an oversize, ancient suit, stood back
and shock his head. ‘It's a tragedy,' he said. Soon,
he too was forced to lose his civility and push
against the mass of desperate humanity. Later, I saw
him inside the border point, circling around nervously
and intently puffing on a cigarette. Here at the border, everyone is nervous, even those
who have no reason to be. The Egyptian officers are
edgy, as if their fate too is being determined
somehow. Both sides know that the Gaza-Egypt border is
undergoing an important transition. Egypt's new
foreign minister, Nabil al-Arabi, had already promised
a breakup with the past, thus an opening of the border
between his country and Gaza. There is much trust
among Palestinians that the new Egypt is genuine, but
also a fear that a politically vulnerable Egypt might
be forced to compromise on its early stances. But the Egyptian people seem determined to keep
their government in check. Palestine is a major theme
now in large protests. Hundreds of Egyptian activists
were arrested, and many were wounded as they rallied
near the Israeli embassy in Cairo, which was closed
for few days before re-opening again. An Egyptian call
to march to Gaza, in commemoration of the Palestinian
Nakba of 1948 – the Day of Catastrophe – was aborted
after the Egyptian army sealed much of Sinai. Tanks
still dot the highway leading from Cairo to Gaza via
the Sinai desert. The soldiers are very polite,
though. The Egyptian driver who took me to Rafah in a
very late hour seemed happiest with the revolution in
his country, simply because he is now treated with
respect by men in uniform. ‘Officers used to treat us
with so much disrespect,' he said with a retrospective
sense of grief. ‘Now, we are like brothers.' The
driver extended his hand for an unnecessary handshake
with a noticeably short solider, wearing a pair of
slippers. The sense of joy, however, hasn't made it to the
Gaza border yet. The hope and anticipation that Gazans
feel towards the changes underway in Egypt can only be
understood after a degree of investigation. The
distance between Cairo and Rafah is long and arduous.
It will be no easy task to translate political will in
the former into meaningful policy in the latter.
Still, the Egyptian people are keeping up the
pressure, and Palestinians in Gaza remain hopeful. At the end, no one was turned back. Everyone made
it into Gaza. The man with the very old suit was still
smoking and cursing for no apparent reason. The girl
with the hurt back was still in terrible pain, but
also happy to be home. The Gaza-Swedish engineer had a
crowd of young cousins waiting for him. In Rafah, I
found myself invited to a lunch followed by Arabic
coffee with many men I didn't know, most of whom were
called Mohammed. They all seemed happy. ‘So, Egypt has changed, right?' asked one Mohammed
with a knowing smile and a nod. Everyone seemed to
agree, although they didn't pinpoint exactly how that
change has affected Gaza so far. Palestinians in Gaza
survive largely because of the 500 or so tunnels that
connect the impoverished, besieged Strip to Egypt.
Now, they feed on hope and cheap cigarettes, much of
it also coming from Egypt. ‘Ramzy Baroud,' called out an older officer loudly.
‘Welcome home, son,' he said, as he handed me my
passport and waved me in. No words could possibly have
been sweeter at that moment. After seventeen years of constant attempts to visit
Gaza again, I am finally here. I am in Gaza. I am home. - Ramzy Baroud (www.ramzybaroud.net)
is an internationally-syndicated columnist and the
editor of PalestineChronicle.com. His latest book is
My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza's Untold Story
(Pluto Press, London), available on Amazon.com. Comments 💬 التعليقات |