Gideon Levy On Nakba Day, Gazans Faced a Choice: To Mourn Their Dead, or Go Out and Protest .
On Nakba Day, Gazans faced a choice: To mourn their dead ... - Haaretz
On Tuesday, the tires burned on both sides of the fence that imprisons the residents of the Gaza
Strip. Thick black columns of smoke rose into the air a few hundred
meters apart, dispersing with the shifting winds, blackening the skies
of the Strip and of what’s called the Gaza “envelope” – the Israeli
communities along the border – blotting out the landscape.
Fires raged in the fields of
Philistia, on both sides of the border fence. In both cases, it was
Palestinians who lit them. On their side they burned tires, elevating
their protest skyward in the form of dense smoke. Toward the Israeli
side they sent their burning “fox tails,” the fire kites, no less
primitive than the fire started by Samson in the Bible story (in Judges
15).
One of the kites set a field
ablaze and also ignited a few terrifyingly large truck tires which for
some reason were stacked next to the entrance of an Iron Dome missile
defense battery somewhere in the fields of a kibbutz near the Gaza
border, sending dark, acrid smoke wafting up. A soldier from the Israel
Defense Forces Spokesperson’s Unit strode, distraught, through the black
plumes of smoke, trying to stop us from photographing the flames that
were almost licking the launcher’s base. “It will be Hamas’ victory
photo,” he cried out, “Iron Dome burning.”
The fire was finally extinguished right next to
the fence of the launch zone. A few hours earlier, when we had first
passed by the site, a female soldier was ensconced in the guard post,
dozing in the warm sun, a cap draped over her face. Now the fire reached
the edge of her position. Firefighters and soldiers worked hard to
douse it, but shortly afterward it flared up again, on the surrounding
sand mounds.
It was a late fire, a revenge fire, if you will – of black smoke that evoked Black Monday, a day earlier, when some 60 people were massacred
and about 1,200 wounded by live fire at the hands of IDF soldiers. We
reached the fire at the same time as a yellow army fire engine.
The flames spread rapidly,
consuming fields of thistles. The fields of the Gaza envelope were
stained with black splotches, carpets of soot that a short time earlier
were fields of wheat and grassy stubble, now completely burned. But the
disaster is of course immeasurably more terrible on the other side of
the fence. The “kite terror” is as nothing in the face of the siege, the
sniper fire and the bombs.
Tuesday, Nakba Day,
was intended to be the peak of the March of Return, which had begun six
weeks earlier and had already taken the lives of more than 100
demonstrators and left thousands wounded. But the shock of what happened
in these fields the previous day apparently had its effect.
The area abutting the fence
on this day, Tuesday, was fairly quiet. Gaza was burying and grieving
for its dozens of dead. Perhaps the demonstrators were afraid to return
to the barrier; perhaps they were prevented from doing so, or they may
have been too occupied with mourning. A photograph taken by Agence
France Presse shows a mother hunched over the body of her infant son,
wrapped in shrouds, on her way to the grave. That image spoke louder
than words, and likely shocked many people around the world. In Israel,
people were still busy celebrating the U.S. Embassy ceremony in Jerusalem and the Eurovision contest.
A field of sunflowers at the edge of the Kibbutz
Nahal Oz farmlands. The yellow flowers all point eastward, as though
turning their back and diverting their vision from the events to the
west, in the Gaza Strip. The sunflowers don’t want to see what’s going
on in Gaza, just like the Israelis who tend them. The field of
sunflowers extends almost to the fence, with its host of protective
devices and the earth ramparts on which the snipers are perched. The
pomegranate grove of another kibbutz, Nir Oz, far to the south, also
reaches not far from the barrier. The pomegranate trees are now giving
off their scent and above all displaying their flowers and first fruits.
Late morning. Behind the fence two fairly small bonfires of tires are already visible, a demonstration of presence. A large Palestinian flag
flaps in the breeze, and a few people can be seen in the sandy area
that runs down to the fence. The view of the Gaza prison always stirs
grim thoughts, which are made even grimmer on a day when so many are
being laid to rest. The smoke hides the houses of the Strip, behind the
area of the demonstrations. From afar the Gaza Strip looks normal; up
close, nothing is normal there.
In the pine grove next to
the Black Arrow monument, commemorating a 1955 revenge operation against
the Egyptian army in Gaza by the Paratroops Brigade, are the war
correspondents of the world – both those who are fearful of entering the
Strip and those who are not allowed in. It’s a long way to the border
fence from here, but this is the only place that the IDF allows media
people to be, not including those who can find their way to the fence
through the many paths in the fields here. Female soldiers from the
Caracal Battalion, armed with knee protectors, are something of an
attraction for the foreign reporters. A Knesset member, Haim Jelin (Yesh
Atid), who lives in the area, hardly misses a camera; these are his 15
minutes of fame.
The weirdest place in the sector is the Kerem
Shalom crossing, at the southern edge of the Strip, near Rafah. It’s
here, in days long gone by, that we would pass on the daily bus to Cairo
that departed from Tel Aviv and crossed the Suez Canal, believe it or
not. It’s also the last crossing point for merchandise between Israel
and Gaza that’s still open: Karni passage was closed in 2007, Sufa in
2008, Nahal Oz in 2010 and the Karni conveyor in 2011; and Kerem Shalom,
too, was closed last week for a few days after the Palestinians set
fire to the Gaza side.
The place is desolate. On
Tuesday, Israel decided to renew the passage of goods through Kerem
Shalom, so it was reported, but only about half-a-dozen idle trucks were
in the large parking area: a few fuel and gas tankers of Ephraim
Burstein, and two trucks bearing signs, “Gan Eden [Paradise] 2014 Ltd.,”
and “Pandoor doors: A sign that you didn’t cut corners.”
Paradise or not, corners cut
or not, the passage to Gaza is deserted. Far more abandoned than the
crossing to Egypt. Ruined buildings, torn signs, rundown facilities, and
only a dense barbed-wire fence and Egyptian flags on the other side. An
Egyptian armored vehicle passes across the way, and the soldiers look
at us. This is a trilateral crossing point – Israel, Egypt, Gaza – and a
double point of evil, of Israel and of Egypt: one the source of Gaza’s
troubles and the other, the one that cuts it off from the world.
At the exit from this surrealistic site, where
not a soul is to be found – certainly not one is visible, plus there’s
no one to stop us from wandering around freely – a tattered road sign
still lists the traffic symbols that are in use in Israel.
Welcome to Israel. This was
once the southern gateway into the country for those coming from Egypt.
The letter “S” in the word “Shalom,” on the large sign above the
concrete wall, “Kerem Shalom Crossing,” tilts forward, wrenched from its
place.
An equally forgotten reality
is projected by signs along the way here that direct one to the “safe
passage” between Gaza and Hebron, created in the wake of the 1993 Oslo
Accords. How many discussions were held about the traffic arrangements
and how few vehicles ever traveled the route, before Israel canceled the
arrangement and severed the Strip completely from the West Bank, long
before Hamas took over Gaza.
An object in the sky, opposite the Black Arrow
monument. Is it a terror kite or a bird of freedom? Only birds and the
planes of the Israel Air Force can move here without being shot at,
between Gaza and Israel, between prison and liberty. A flock of birds
with snow-white wings flies directly over the fields, moving from side
to side, birds without borders. We are following the black smoke and the
IDF’s yellow fire engine to the fire that’s liable to damage the Iron
Dome battery and give Hamas its “victory photo.”
On the other side, the first fatal casualty of the day is counted.
Gideon Levy
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