The neighbors across the way
GIDEON LEVY
Ha'aretz, 11 February 2005
In contrast to the private villas - tin shacks. In contrast to a 'secure' road - suffocation. In contrast to international attention - total disregard. The 8,500 Palestinians of the Muasi region are the Palestinians no-one has heard of.
There is "Upper" Gush Katif, whose residents move freely about their area, accompanied by unparalleled security, and who are the focus of worldwide attention. Some of the residents live in pleasant, spacious homes, go to programs at community centers and are transported to schools and afternoon enrichment activities; all of them enjoy complete freedom of movement and most of them are well off. They are new to this area. Now they are the victims who have to be generously compensated, and treated with compassion and sensitivity.
And there is "Lower" Gush Katif, whose inhabitants are a mirror image of them. Everything the inhabitants of Upper Gush Katif have, the residents of Lower Gush Katif do not have - although they do have far more seniority on this beautiful and fertile piece of land on the shores of Gaza, between Dir al-Balah, Khan Yunis and Rafah. They are imprisoned as nobody else is in the territories, they are poverty-stricken, some work for the neighbors under conditions of shameful exploitation, and nobody takes an interest in their fate. And when it comes to being victims, they have been in the business longer. Some of them are refugees from Israel's 1948 War of Independence, all of them have been living under occupation since the 1967 Six-Day War. Only the numbers are similar: There are about 8,500 people here, which is somewhat more than the population of the neighboring settlers.
One can barely see them. A trip along the Kissufim Road that leads to the Gush Katif settlements is a journey in a land of suppression and disregard. There is no other region of settlements in which the feeling is so Israeli: a land without Arabs, in the region with the highest density of Arabs in the world. The concrete walls, the fences, the overpasses and mainly the "exposed" areas where Arab homes and fields were destroyed for security reasons, keep the Arabs out of sight, to the point where every traveler has the impression that he is driving on the roads of the Sharon, between Ramat Hasharon and Herzliya.
Khan Yunis beyond the wall? Dir al-Balah beyond the wall? Rafah beyond the fence? The Abu Khuli checkpoint beneath the overpass? Who sees them? Even the endless traffic jam in Abu Khuli is hidden from view. As opposed to the West Bank, no checkpoints are in evidence here, no unpleasant sights of people being delayed, no Arab villages along the way. Nothing. It's a straight, unbroken route from Tel Aviv to the settlement of Morag in the southern Gaza Strip, with barely a single Arab along the way, barely a single checkpoint; one that is, of course, completely open to Jews. One nation in one country.
Only one ugly stain spoils things. What are these ramshackle houses that suddenly appear at the side of the road? How can it be that these miserable tin shacks have not yet been "exposed"? What mistake was made here, which left thousands of refugees in place? What about "security"?
This is the Muasi region, with thousands of farmers and fishermen, a third of them Palestinians refugees from 1948, a third Bedouin (some of them refugees from the Negev) and a third old-timers, surrounded and suffocated from all sides. There are Gush Katif settlements to the north, south and east. To the west is the sea - access to which is also blocked by a fence, with a few hallucinatory houses of settlers on the beach that used to be theirs - and there is one checkpoint leading to the main cities of the region: Rafah and Khan Yunis. Passing through it is like crossing an international checkpoint between two countries at war. Try bringing a sack of onions from the field in Muasi to the market in Khan Yunis, around the corner. Not to mention an expectant mother or a sick person.
***
In the dark sits a fisherman repairing his net. He is not allowed entry to the beach opposite his house, a distance of a few hundred meters, where there is a fence and settlers. In other places he is allowed entry, but not with a boat. The enlightened occupation allows him to enter the sea with an inner tube, and to fish only from the tube - but not on his beach. One can't exactly say that in Muasi there are signs of excitement about the anticipated evacuation of the uninvited guests who were planted in front of them and in front of their lives. Maybe they don't believe, maybe they don't want to develop expectations; mainly, they are apparently afraid to say what they think, as long as the settlers are around.
After all, there are 120 farmers who work for the settlers, for a whole NIS 5 an hour, and there are also economic ties with them that are complex and not always clear, such as the sale of cucumbers and onions that the settlers buy for pennies and sell in Tel Aviv at city prices, illegally. They are not allowed to do business with the settlers, who are the ones who set the price. Now it's NIS 11 for a sack of cucumbers.
The residents have a little freedom of movement along the sandy paths, and there are also the homes that have not been destroyed. The Israel Defense Forces have hardly "exposed" a single house here, so there's still a lot to lose. Maybe that's why this imprisoned region is quiet, and those living there make do with the crumbs thrown to them by the occupation and the settlers.
The fisherman sits, surrounded by friends, inside the divan, the meeting place of Muasi-Khan Yunis. A tin ceiling is held up by plastic walls and one brick wall. There's Muasi-Khan Yunis and there's Muasi-Rafah, and the settlements embrace both of them. Nobody here wants to be identified by name; fear dictates everything. They are afraid to walk around with us in the sandy alleyways, for fear the soldiers will see them with us, and they are afraid to travel in our car, for fear they'll get into trouble. "The soldiers know everyone in Muasi, and if they suddenly see someone with eyeglasses, we'll have problems." Where are the soldiers? There on the tower and here on the tower, in every direction; they see everything.
The fisherman has not gone out to the open sea to fish for four years, but he is repairing his net. For 65 straight days the checkpoint was closed; they couldn't leave their pen to go anywhere. In any case, they haven't been allowed to leave by car for four years. Only on foot. Merchandise, pregnant women, only on foot. All you can use here is a toy car or a scooter without a motor. On a good day they are only allowed to travel between Muasi-Khan Yunis and Muasi-Rafah, a matter of a kilometer or two in each direction. Crossing at the Tufah checkpoint, the only exit to the Gaza Strip, is allowed only on foot.
At the checkpoint you have to wait for hours, they say. The soldiers allow groups of five through, and usually no more than five groups a day; 20 to 25 lucky people, out of a population of 8,500. People under the age of 35 are not allowed to leave at all. That is one of Israel's major gestures to Palestinian Authority Chairman Mahmoud Abbas (Abu Mazen): Until he came to power, the minimum age for leaving was 50. Now, in the name of enlightenment, coexistence and easing the closure, they have lowered it. The checkpoint is not always open. One time the x-ray scanner is broken, and another time there is no dog on duty. Without a dog, there's no crossing. "It's for security," they explain in the divan.
Here is the honorable sheikh who has just entered the divan. He went to the checkpoint this morning at 5:30 to reserve a place, and now, at 2:30 P.M., he has arrived home. He tells about it with a smile. It was cold and rainy, there's no shelter to speak of at the checkpoint, there is no bathroom, but everything is for the good.
There is no high school in Muasi, and anyone who wants to study goes to Khan Yunis and rents an apartment there, alone, because there is no chance of crossing the checkpoint every day. One day it's open, another day it's not, and anyway it always closes at 4 P.M. at the latest.
Muasi is a suburb of Khan Yunis, closer than Ramat Aviv is to Tel Aviv, but to go there you need a permit. You won't find any bitterness here, except for the young man who told us about what happened last Thursday. At 5 A.M. soldiers came and ordered all the members of the Hanoun family to go outside. About 80 people were forced to leave their homes in the cold, the 19 men were forced to strip and to remain in their underpants in the freezing cold. They were stripped and dressed twice, interrogated and then released after 13 hours. One remained in detention. But it's usually quiet here.
Smoke fills the divan, from the fire they have lit to warm the air a little, and to prepare coffee. The wind beats on the plastic walls. The old-timers earn NIS 70 a day in the settlements, but there are few of them. They have a permit, which says: "Work permit for the Gaza Strip settlements and the Erez industrial zone. Must exit via the Ganei Tal crossing where entered. Is not permitted to do shift work. Is not permitted to drive any type of vehicle." A precious work permit for three months - for work that pays NIS 5 per hour.
No, there are no problems at all with the settlers, they say. Once there were problems, but there haven't been any for a long time. So coexistence is preserved here as it should be: the settlers on top and the Palestinians down below. Or, as in the very cautious wording of one of them, the mukhtar (chief) of the refugees: "The settlers within their fence, and we within our prison." He immediately adds, automatically: "We don't want to make problems. This is a quiet place. Now we're seeing the light of peace."
Is there a chance?
"Of course, there's a chance. Bush wants it that way. In the end, in the end, peace will win out."
Will you move to Ganei Tal (a Gaza Strip settlement)?
"The lands will be transferred from one government to another. There were the Turks, there were the British, there were the Egyptians, there were the Israelis. It will be transferred from one government to another. If we don't return to Ashkelon, our situation will remain as it was."
Separation?
"Under no circumstances will we separate from the Israelis. The Palestinians and the Israelis are like skin and flesh. It won't separate. There's an illness and there's a cure. Either we're the illness and you're the cure, or you're the illness and we're the cure. But separation is impossible. I have no friends among the settlers, but I have a lot of friends in Israel. I was a contractor for mosaic work, and this guy was a flooring contractor, and this one a contractor for the foundation, and we all have friends. We're all waiting for the moment when there's peace and we can go to make a living in Israel. I think that we have to give a new name to the land Israel: 'a land for everyone.' Including Muasi. On Tuesday I hear there's a major summit meeting. With God's help, it will be a good summit, too."
In response to the question of whether they will celebrate the departure of the settlers, there is extreme caution: "We'll celebrate because of the peace, not because the settlers leave. We are mixed together."
We returned to their daily routine. An expectant mother who leaves in an ambulance to give birth - crossing the checkpoint in an ambulance is allowed - never knows when she will be allowed to return. Sometimes one gets stuck in Khan Yunis for two or three weeks, until the checkpoint reopens. There have been new mothers who were stuck for 40 days, and couldn't return home with their newborns. Every sack that goes from the field here to the market in Khan Yunis has to be x-rayed at the Tupah junction. The wait on line takes hours. In order to invite relatives from the city to a wedding, you have to undergo a complicated procedure: to transfer the names to the coordination and liaison offices, and to hope for the best. Forget about a simple invitation to relatives from the neighboring town for a cup of coffee.
In the room adjacent to the divan stands a refrigerator, a vestige from the days when the residents grew flowers here. They haven't grown flowers and strawberries for export for years, because what flower and what strawberry will last for a few days until the soldier lets it pass the checkpoint? "They put the onions on the conveyor belt and check them on the television screen. It's hard to transfer meat, only chicken. On the holiday we ate a sheep that was especially slaughtered in Khan Yunis, but was delayed for 40 days at the checkpoint and arrived frozen from the refrigerator."
What do they have? They have rabbits, which they raise in their yards. They are not allowed to cross the checkpoint with a watch, or with a cell phone. "A cell phone is dynamite." If your pen sets off the metal detector, you have to return home. You can't just toss it aside. Maybe it will explode? And then you return to the beginning of the line, a matter of another day or two. They say that the wife of the refugees' mukhtar is supposed to return today from Khan Yunis. Her husband has no idea where she is and until now, in the afternoon, she still hasn't arrived. Should I explain once again that Khan Yunis is their city, and that it is located just a little way from their homes?
***
Piles of garbage on the sandy road that leads to the sea. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) collects only the garbage of the refugees here. All the rest rots in the sand. There is no running water in the houses, only in the fields.
One can see everything from the window of every home in the settlements of Neveh Dekalim or Ganei Tal. At the end of the sandy road that goes west, among the houses, there is a fence and it is impossible to reach the waterline. Behind the concrete walls live a handful of settlers, right on the water; soldiers in a watchtower guard them. Our local guide is very nervous as he sits in our car, near the settlers' fence. Don't stop, drive fast. They shoot here. The road south to Muasi-Rafah passes just a few meters from them.
The vestiges of tourist attractions, theirs and those of the settlers, stand in ruins. The beach is beautiful and the sight is saddening. The Hof Ashalim Restaurant used to be open on Shabbat. Now there is only neglect. The road to Rafah is closed, and the road to the settlement of Rafiah Yam is open to Jews only.