Letters from Palestine (31 page)

As I finished saying that to myself, I felt
a huge rock falling on top of my head! Monir, is that really how
selfish you have become? Is that all it matters? Is that what life
in America has turned you into? No, I was very wrong! One is never
too far from the knowledge of injustice! And its burden on his
conscience, if he has one!

Because I knew so much from firsthand
experience about the terrible effects of the inhumane siege of
Gaza, you can imagine my sense of guilt and helplessness. So one
day, while I was listening to the radio I learned that you do not
have to be a Palestinian to feel the way I did. Don Bustany was
interviewing two guests, Greta Berlin and Paul Larudee. Listening
to them, I no longer felt alone. They were talking about the
conditions of the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip under the Israeli
siege. I was very impressed, to say the least. They are not even
Palestinians or Arabs, and yet they knew as much, if not even more,
than me about what was happening in Gaza.

They were talking about an organization they
had been building with a few other humanitarians and peace
activists from seventeen countries to break the inhumane Israeli
siege of Gaza. They called it the Free Gaza Movement. Their plan
was to sail a boat from Cyprus to the shores of Gaza to show their
solidarity with the 1.5 million Palestinians in the largest
open-air prison in the world! Among the participants was an
eighty-three-year-old Jewish Holocaust survivor, Heidi Epstein, who
did not know how to swim. Being able to swim was a precondition to
be accepted on the Free Gaza boat, so she hired an instructor to
learn.

When I heard that story, my decision was
made. I knew I had to be on that boat. I wanted to be Heidi’s
swimming partner in case the Israelis decided to shoot and sink the
boat. I wanted to be part of speaking out against injustice.

So I joined up, and they welcomed me as the
first Gazan-born Palestinian from America. We did a couple of
fundraisers and speaking engagements to help collect the money to
buy the boats. I said “boats” because at that time we had more
volunteers than one boat could carry. The boats were chosen and
were purchased with the money we had raised and docked in a secret
location because of fear of Israeli sabotage. (The Israelis had
already sabotaged a ship that was to sail to Haifa Harbor in 1984
by blowing a hole in it before its departure.)

There were lots of dirty politics played by
the Israeli government to discourage our trip, too. When the
Israelis were first informed of it, they had a very sarcastic
response: “If those leftists want to spend their vacation in
Hamasville, let them!” They did not believe we were serious. We
worked up a thirty-second ad to be aired on Al Jazeera. After it
was accepted and scheduled to be aired, they mysteriously changed
their mind. From the day it was supposed to air, they ceased
contact with us. Finally, after many calls and a worldwide email
campaign, they replied to us. We were told that the decision was
out of their hands but our ad could not be aired. No real reason
was given to us, only excuses. Later, we learned that Israel and
the U.S. had been putting pressure on Al Jazeera.

In any case, the date was now set to meet in
Cyprus around the end of August 2008. I flew from Los Angeles to
Larnaka, Cyprus. We all met at the University of Nicosia, where we
had arranged to stay until our boats were ready to sail. The new
university buildings were all made of solid, thick concrete. The
rooms were simply furnished: single student beds, a wooden desk,
and a chair, and a closet with a built-in sink and a mirror. That
was it.

The most challenging part was the lack of
air conditioning. There was a noisy fan on the concrete ceiling,
but the temperatures were over a hundred degrees in the daytime
with very high humidity. The worst part was that the heat did not
go away with sunset. It was retained by the concrete walls and
dispersed at night. Showers were communal but they were lifesavers!
But do you know what? We did not even care. We did complain among
ourselves, but I don’t think any of us really minded!

Our departure to Gaza was initially set for
September 5 or 6. We were to spend one week in training for the
various scenarios that the Israeli navy might confront us with.
This training would also help us to get acquainted with each other
(there were now about twenty-eight of us—eventually, there would be
forty-four passengers). We were also to use this time to make
contact with our Palestinian counterparts in Gaza; write and send
out press releases; set up media and press conferences; and do
personal interviews with radio, TV, and newspaper reporters. In
addition, we were to go to our embassies to keep them informed of
our whereabouts in case we were abducted by the Israelis We also
received first-aid and medical emergency training.

During our second week there, some problems
began to develop. To begin with, we started to receive threats to
our lives and that of our families via phone calls and emails. The
more media coverage we got, the more threats we received. For
another, our second boat, an older one, required more work to make
it seaworthy, so that forced a delay. Finally, the Israeli
government, finding that it had to respond to all the attention we
had received, announced it would not allow anyone to enter its
territorial waters and stated that they would shoot any ship that
attempted to sail onto Gaza’s shores.

We countered through the media that we had
no intention of entering Israeli territorial waters. We said that
since Israel had withdrawn from Gaza in 2005, it is a free
territory. If that was the case, then we would not be sailing in
any Israeli waters and would keep our vessels in international
waters until we reached internationally recognized Palestinian
waters before entering Gaza. They came back at us by insisting that
Israel had the right to patrol up to twenty miles south of its
borders, which it considered as a security zone, in order to
interdict terrorists and arms smugglers. We responded that we were
a group of international peace and humanitarian activists who
wished to express their solidarity with the 1.5 million
Palestinians in Gaza and to deliver much needed humanitarian
aid.

After the Israelis realized we were serious
and determined to sail, they made it clear that they would not
allow any ships to come to Gaza, and that would be their final say
on that matter, and no more comments would be issued.

Meanwhile, we continued working on our
logistics and boat repairs. By now, however, our original departure
date of September 5 had come and gone. More delays ensued. Some
people had to leave, and new ones arrived. I had figured my time
and obligations based on the departure date of the fifth or a few
days later. By now it was the twelfth of September. We just got the
word that there were more difficulties with the second boat and
that it would now be one more week or even more before we could
leave.

This gave me a real problem. You see, my
wife and kids had planned their summer vacation in Amman, Jordan,
to spend with family. (Very nice of them while I am risking my
life, facing the Israeli navy in a small boat at sea. Crazy, I
know!) They were to arrive there on the fourteenth of September.
There was nothing much for me to do in Cyprus but wait, so I
decided to surprise my wife and kids in Amman and spend few days
with them until the boats were ready!

Part II: Amman

The surprise was beyond belief, as it was
very difficult for my wife and me when we had to sign the legal
documents about what was to be done with our bodies if the Israelis
were to shoot us and sink our boats. This was one of the
possibilities we had to face. My wife did not want to hear that
when I called her and asked her about the choices: either flying my
body home, assuming they could even find it, or just burying me in
my birthplace, Gaza, next to my mother. So for her to see my face
at the airport—since I had arrived the night before they did—was a
great relief, to say the least.

But of course, I kept in touch with my
colleagues in Cyprus to follow the progress of the work on the
boats. By that time, we knew that Al Jazeera had the intention of
sending somebody to cover our story. They had some great
difficulties in giving us the final word for sure, but we remained
hopeful it would work out. Finally, the boats arrived at Larnaka
Harbor on the twenty-second of September (the date had been kept a
secret for fear of sabotage by the Israelis). By now, the boats’
capacity was full—me included—but at that point two journalists
from Al Jazeera arrived in Cyprus. However, this now meant that two
passengers had to give up their places in order to make room for
the journalists.

Heidi had fallen ill that same night, and I
was in Amman. A decision had to be made. I knew that I could get
into Gaza. My chances were better than most of the others since I
had some connections. No guarantees of course, but it was possible!
I decided to take that chance! Of course, I was also very eager to
get to Gaza as my father and family were all awaiting my
arrival.

Anyway, the boats finally departed, and I
was glued to Al Jazeera in Amman, waiting for any news about their
fate. When the boats were close to Israeli territorial waters, they
were intercepted by the Israeli navy and commanded to return. The
captains of the boats stated that they had no intention of entering
Israeli territorial waters and were on their way to Gaza! That went
on for about half an hour or more of Israeli commands and then
threats. But the heroic people on those boats made the heroic
decision of proceeding on their course under any circumstances.

All communication systems had now been cut
off on both boats. Only one satellite phone was still operative,
which the captain was able to use to notify our team in Cyprus. The
Al Jazeera reporters were also able to use it to inform their
station of the situation at sea. The Israelis kept up their
interference with all the technical equipment of both boats for
over four hours, during which time the boats could only move at a
slow speed. And without navigational guidance, they also began to
drift off course.

Finally, when Israel realized that this
situation had now received wide coverage in the media, by Al
Jazeera first then other stations, they decided to save themselves
from an embarrassing international incident. They could not take
the risk of attacking nonviolent peace activists who obviously
posed no threat to Israel. When they saw that they were in a
lose-lose situation, they decided to cease the jamming of the
equipment and let the boats go!

Hurrah! Hurrah! The cheers filled so many
places as the news spread. There were over forty thousand people on
Gaza’s shores anticipating the arrival of some of the people of the
world who had not forgotten them. My own father and sister were
part of the crowed waiting in anticipation, as I had not informed
them that I would not be on the boats. When I called my father and
sister, I had to give them the double-edged news: first, the great
news that the boats had succeeded in breaking the siege; second,
that I was not on them. They were very saddened that their son was
not coming, but yet very happy as Palestinians to welcome those
heroes who had defied the Israeli monster that had been terrorizing
them for decades! Then they, with thousands of others, headed back
to the beach.

The sight was indescribable as I was
watching it on Al Jazeera. The fishermen’s boats loaded with Gazans
and the Palestinian flags filled the waters. Kids started to jump
in the water and swim toward the approaching Free Gaza boats. They
could no longer wait. Tears were filling all eyes at that moment. I
saw all my friends safe on Palestinian soil. I could not sleep that
night.

So, first thing the next morning, I picked
up a small bag—I do not even remember what I threw in it. I ran
downstairs. My wife and kids were not there; they were out having
breakfast. I called my wife and shocked her with the news. The
boats are in Gaza, and I am on my way there. To say the least, she
was happy—and terrified. Happy that I was going to join my friends
and family, terrified that I am going there. She knew that I had to
go through Israel in order for me to get to Gaza! All I had to do
was to let her hear how happy and excited I was for her not to say
much. She wished me luck, and I told her to kiss the kids for me. I
found a taxi, and he took advantage of me as he saw how eager I was
to get to the bridge to cross the river. I did not care; I just
wanted to be there!

Part III: Gaza

It took almost two hours to get to the
border. Then I had to go through Jordanian immigration, which took
another hour, during which time I took the opportunity to call my
cousin to come and pick me up—or interfere, if the Israelis decided
to retain me. I paid a fee, then I had to buy a bus ticket in order
to be transported about 750 yards to the Israeli immigration side
since nobody is allowed to walk on foot.

There, something kind of funny happened to
me—the opposite of what I might have expected. As I walked to the
passport window, I saw that the passport clerk was an Israeli
female soldier. When I handed her my passport, I have to admit I
was kind of tense, not knowing what to expect. When she opened my
American passport, she raised her head and exclaimed, “You are
Monir?”

I was taken aback by her tone, as if she was
expecting me or something. As I was answering, “Yes!” I heard
female voices coming from behind her, and when I looked, I saw
three female soldiers standing behind her. And then in unison they
started to sing, “Moneer . . . Moneer! . . . Moneer . . .
Moneer!”

I looked at them with a fully surprised face
and said, “I was expecting a reception! But not that kind of
reception!”