Gaza On Departing

Gaza City, May 6, 2002)The makeshift tank barricade on my street is gone. The twin piles of sand were probably never meant to do much more than provide area residents like myself with some sense of security. I think it only had the opposite effect on me, however. And while the removal of some defensive barriers in Gaza City could be an indication of better times ahead, the majority still remain, ringing the area. The most pathetic perhaps, are the four-foot sand walls lining the beaches along the Mediterranean.

But one can not deny a sense of relief in Gaza. The unannounced blockade of goods and food imposed at the Israeli controlled entry points has been eased. When I’m found at a store buying bundles of vegetables, it is no longer taken as a sign of a foreigner with foreknowledge of an impending invasion. Conversations on the issue have waned, giving way to speculation about what the West Bank will end up like. These are my final days in Palestine.

I feel the guilt of leaving pressing down on me. I can do things my friends here cannot. It has nothing to do with how hard I’ve worked, how wealthy they are, or what dreams any of us have. I can leave Gaza and they cannot. In a few days I’ll be quaffing beers in a Brussels pub and a little after that immersing in a Wisconsin spring brooding over my credit card debts. They will still be here.