The Waiting Game for Gazans

Most of the world has now heard about the siege on Gaza. A small strip of land with around 1.5 million people, simply cut off from the world. Sometimes it's hard to imagine what this actually means for real people, their real lives interrupted by a ridiculously inhumane policy of isolation. Here, I've met a couple of friends who are from Gaza, and I wanted to share a bit about them.

Nizar

Each evening this week, Nizar has said his goodbyes to friends here in Ramallah. Each morning, he has awoken and kept his mobile phone nearby, waiting until around 12 noon to see whether the Israeli army will call him to come to the office and issue him a permission to travel back to Gaza. When the permission does arrive, he will have a 2-3 hour window in which to get to the office, pick up the permit, and leave the West Bank on a straight taxi route to Gaza. Once he arrives in Gaza, he is not allowed to leave. After spending 2 years in the U.S. getting his Masters, he started working for a USAID contractor. Then he went to Jordan to take care of his mother who was getting medical treatment there, and now he has been in Ramallah for a month, in limbo. Even with his education and good job connections, he cannot avoid the effects of this occupation. He is leaving friends and a successful job in order to go to his family in Gaza and take care of them; each day he is on standby, ready to say his final goodbyes.

Asem

Asem is the goalkeeper for the Palestinian national football (soccer) team. His wife and son are in Gaza, and he has not seen them for over a year and a half. He said that in Gaza, playing for teams there can earn him a maximum of about 1,000 shekels per month. Here in the West Bank, for the national team, he earns about $4,000 USD per month. This is the difference that keeps him here, and he sends money to Gaza for his family. The last time he saw his wife and son, he arranged for them to cross through Rafah into Egypt, and he met them there for a week. Now that Egypt has opened the Rafah crossing again, he will try to arrange a similar meeting. He has also tried for months to get a permit for his wife and son to live with him in the West Bank, or at least visit. These attempts are all denied by Israeli authorities. So, Asem is stuck. Just as many Gazans are, stuck without options, either inside or outside their land.

This conflict, and the siege on Gaza, is both unsustainable and completely inhumane. Israel may be trying to starve Hamas out of power, or protect itself from what it sees as a terrorist threat. But isolating millions of people from one another, both inside and outside Gaza, is not accomplishing any of these aims. In fact, it is increasing the suffering of ordinary people and catalyzing even more frustration and anger.

Forcing people to wait, and wait, and wait for life to improve – for choices to come – for the chance to see their families – this waiting is so painful. So cruel and inhumane.