Gaza Border 'Opening' is Just Rhetoric:
Played Over And Over Again
13 June 2011
By Ramzy Baroud
For most Palestinians, leaving Gaza through Egypt is
as exasperating a process as entering it.
Governed by political and cultural sensitivities, most
Palestinian officials and public figures refrain from
criticising the way Palestinians are treated at the
Rafah border.
However there is really no diplomatic language to
describe the relationship between desperate
Palestinians - some literally fighting for their lives
- and Egyptian officials at the crossing which
separates Gaza from Egypt.
"Gazans are treated like animals at the border," a
friend of mine told me.
She was afraid that her fiance would not be allowed to
leave Gaza, despite the fact that his papers were in
order.
Having crossed the border myself just a few days ago,
I could not disagree with her statement.
The New York Times reported on June 8 that "after days
of acrimony between Hamas and Egypt over limitations
on who could pass through the Rafah border crossing
between Gaza and Egypt, Hamas said Egypt had agreed to
allow 550 people a day to leave Gaza and to lengthen
the operating hours of the crossing."
And so the saga continues.
A few weeks after an official Egyptian announcement to
"permanently" open the border - thus extending a
lifeline for trapped Palestinians under siege in Gaza
- the Rafah border was opened for two days of
conditional operation in late May and then closed
again for four days.
Now it has once more "reopened."
All the announcements are proving to be no more than
rhetoric.
The latest "permanent" reopening has come with its own
conditions and limitations, involving such factors as
gender, age, purpose of visit and so on.
"Everyone has the right to leave any country,
including his own, and to return to his country,"
states Article 13(2) of the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights.
This universal principle, however, continues to evade
most Palestinians in Gaza.
I was one of the very first Palestinians who stood at
Rafah following the announcement of a "permanent"
opening.
Our bus waited at the gate for a long time.
I watched a father repeatedly try to reassure his
crying six-year-old child, who displayed obvious signs
of a terrible bone disease.
"Get the children out or they will die," shouted an
older passenger as he gasped for air.
The heat in the bus, combined with the smell of
trapped sweat was unbearable.
Passengers took it upon themselves to leave the bus
and stand outside, enduring disapproving looks from
the Egyptian officials.
Our next task was finding clean water and a shady spot
in the arid zone separating the Egypt and Palestinian
sides.
There were no toilets.
A tangible feeling of despair and humiliation could be
read on the faces of the Gaza passengers.
No-one seemed to be in the mood to speak of the
Egyptian revolution, a favourite topic of conversation
among most Palestinians.
This zone is governed by an odd relationship, one that
goes back many years - well before Egypt, under Hosni
Mubarak, decided to shut down the border in 2006 in
order to aid the political demise of Hamas.
The issue actually has nothing to do with gender, age
or logistics.
All Palestinians are treated very poorly at the Rafah
crossing and they continue to suffer even after the
toppling of Mubarak, his family and the dismissal of
the corrupt security apparatus.
The Egyptian revolution has yet to reach Gaza.
When the bus was finally allowed to enter about five
hours later, Palestinians dashed into the gate,
desperately hoping to be among the lucky ones allowed
to go in.
The anxiety of the travellers usually makes them
vulnerable to workers at the border who promise them
help in exchange for negotiated amounts of money.
All of this is actually a con, as the decision is made
by a single man, referred to as al-Mukhabarat, the
"intelligence."
Some are sent back while others are allowed entry.
Everyone is forced to wait for many hours - sometimes
even days - with no clear explanation as to what they
are waiting for or why they are being sent back.
The very ill six-year-old held onto his dad's jacket
as they walked about, frantically trying to fulfil all
the requirements.
Both seemed like they were about to collapse.
The Mukhabarat determined that three Gaza students on
their way to their universities in Russia were to be
sent back.
They had jumped through many hoops already to make it
so far.
Their hearts sank when they heard the verdict.
I protested on their behalf and the decision was as
arbitrarily reversed as it was originally made.
Those who are sent back to Gaza are escorted by
unsympathetic officers to the same open spot to wait
for the same decrepit bus.
Some of those who are allowed entry are escorted by
security personnel across the Sinai desert, all the
way to Cairo International Airport to be "deported" to
their final destinations. They are all treated like
common criminals.
"I can't watch my son die in front of my eyes,"
screamed the father of 11-year-old Mohammed Ali Saleh,
according to Mohammed Omer of the IPS news agency.
He was addressing Egyptian troops days after the
border was supposedly permanently reopened - for the
second time in less than a week.
Such compelling needs as medical treatment, education
and freedom keep bringing Palestinians back.
The Israeli siege has choked Gaza to the point of near
complete strangulation. Egypt is Gaza's only hope.
"I beg you to open the crossing... You brothers of
Egypt have humiliated us for so long. Isn't it time we
had our dignity back?" said Naziha al-Sebakhi, 63, one
of the many distressed faces at the Rafah border,
according to Omer.
As they crossed into Egypt, some of the passengers
seemed euphoric.
The three Russian students and I shared a taxi to
Cairo.
A tape of Umm Kulthum's Amal Hyati (Hope Of My Life)
played over and over again.
Despite everything, the young men seemed to hold no
resentment towards Egypt.
"I just love Egypt. I don't know why," said Majid
pensively, before falling asleep from sheer
exhaustion.
I thought of the six-year-old boy and his dad.
I wonder if they made it to the hospital in time.
- 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.
©
EsinIslam.Com
Add Comments