Sand and Sky t was as close to heaven and as far from hell as I could get Ithat day, an isolated stretch of beach just two and a half miles from the misery of Gaza City, where waves roll up on the shore as if to wash away yesterday and leave a fresh start for tomorrow. We probably looked like any other family at the beach— my two sons and six daughters, a few cousins and uncles and aunts—the kids frolicking in the water, writing their names in the sand, calling to each other over the onshore winds. But like most things in the Middle East, this picture-perfect gathering was not what it seemed. I’d brought the family to the beach to fi nd some peace in the middle of our grief. It was December , , just twelve short weeks since my wife, Nadia, had died from acute leukemia, leaving our eight children motherless, the youngest of them, our son Abdullah, only six years old. She’d been diagnosed and then died in only two weeks. Her death left us shocked, dazed, and wobbling with the sudden loss of the equilibrium she had always provided. I had to bring the family together, away from the noise and chaos of Jabalia City, where we lived, to fi nd privacy for all of us to remember and to strengthen the ties that bind us one to the other. > e day was cool, the December sky whitewashed by a pale winter sun, the Mediterranean a pure azure blue. But even as I watched these sons and daughters of mine playing in the surf, looking like joyful children playing anywhere, I was apprehensive From “I Shall Not Hate” by Izzeldin Abuelaish. Excerpt courtesy of Walker & Company. 616g.indd 1 21/10/2010 15:14:37 about our future and the future of our region. And even I did not imagine how our personal tragedy was about to multiply many times over. People were grumbling about impending military action. For several years, the Israelis had been bombing the smug- glers’ tunnels between the Gaza Strip and Egypt, but recently the attacks had become more frequent. Ever since the Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit had been captured by a group of Islamic militants in June , a blockade had been put in place, presumably to punish the Palestinian people as a whole for the actions of a few. But now the blockade was even tighter, and the tunnels were the only way most items got into the Gaza Strip. Every time they had been bombed, they had been rebuilt, and then Israel would bomb them again. Adding to the isolation, the three crossings from Israel and Egypt into Gaza had been closed to the media for six months, a sign that the Israelis didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. You could feel the tension in the air. Most of the world has heard of the Gaza Strip. But few know what it’s like to live here, blockaded and impoverished, year after year, decade after decade, watching while promises are broken and opportunities are lost. According to the United Nations, the Gaza Strip has the highest population density in the world. > e majority of its approximately . million residents are Palestinian refugees, many of whom have been living in refugee camps for decades; it is estimated that percent are living in poverty. Our schools are overcrowded, and there isn’t enough money to pave the roads or supply the hospitals. > e eight refugee camps and the cities—Gaza City and Jabalia City—that make up Gaza are noisy, crowded, dirty. One refugee camp, the Beach Camp in western Gaza City, houses more than eighty-one thousand people in less than one half of From “I Shall Not Hate” by Izzeldin Abuelaish. Excerpt courtesy of Walker & Company. 616g.indd 2 21/10/2010 15:14:37 a square mile. But still, if you listen hard enough, even in the camps you can hear the heartbeat of the Palestinian nation. People should understand that Palestinians don’t live for them- selves alone. > ey live for and support each other. What I do for myself and my children, I also do for my brothers and sisters and their children. My salary is for all of my family. We are a community. > e spirit of Gaza is in the cafés where narghile-smoking patrons discuss the latest political news; it’s in the crowded alleyways where children play; in the markets where women shop then rush back to their families; in the words of the old men shuffl ing along the broken streets to meet their friends, fi ngering their worry beads and regretting the losses of the past. At fi rst glance you might think everyone is in a hurry—heads down, no eye contact as people move from place to place—but these are the gestures of angry people who have been coerced, neglected, and oppressed. > ick, unrelenting oppression touches every single aspect of life in Gaza, from the graffi ti on the walls of the cities and towns to the unsmiling elderly, the unem- ployed young men crowding the streets, and the children—that December day, my own—seeking relief in play at the beach. > is is my Gaza: Israeli gunships on the horizon, helicopters overhead, the airless smugglers’ tunnels into Egypt, UN relief trucks on the roadways, smashed buildings, and corroding infrastructure. > ere is never enough—not enough cooking oil, not enough fresh fruit or water. Never, ever enough. So easily do allegiances switch inside Gaza that it is sometimes hard to know who is in charge, whom to hold responsible: Israel, the international community, Fatah, Hamas, the gangs, the reli- gious fundamentalists. Most blame the Israelis, the United States, history. From “I Shall Not Hate” by Izzeldin Abuelaish. Excerpt courtesy of Walker & Company. 616g.indd 3 21/10/2010 15:14:37 Gaza is a human time bomb in the process of imploding. All through there were warning signs that the world ignored. > e election of Hamas in January increased the tension between Israelis and Palestinians, as did the sporadic fi ring of Qassam rockets into Israel and the sanctions imposed on Palestinians by the international community, as a result. > e rockets, homemade, most often missing their targets, spoke the language of desperation. > ey invited overreaction by the Israeli army and retaliatory rocket attacks from heli- copter gunships that rained down death and destruction on Palestinians, often defenseless children. > at in turn set the stage for more Qassam rockets—and the cycle kept repeating itself. As a physician, I would describe this cycle of taunting and bullying as a form of self-destructive behavior that arises when a situation is viewed as hopeless. Everything is denied to us in Gaza. > e response to each of our desires and needs is “No.” No gas, no electricity, no exit visa. No to your children, no to life. Even the well-educated can’t cope; there are more post- graduates and university graduates per capita here in Gaza than in most places on earth, but their socioeconomic life does not match their educational level because of poverty, closed borders, unemployment, and substandard housing. People cannot survive, cannot live a normal life, and as a result, extrem- ism has been on the rise. It is human nature to seek revenge in the face of relentless suff ering. You can’t expect an unhealthy person to think logically. Almost everyone here has psychiatric problems of one type or another; everyone needs rehabilitation. But no help is available to ease the tension. > is parasuicidal behavior—the launching of rockets and the suicide bomb- ings—invites counterattacks by the Israelis and then revenge From “I Shall Not Hate” by Izzeldin Abuelaish. Excerpt courtesy of Walker & Company. 616g.indd 4 21/10/2010 15:14:37 from the Gazans, which leads to an even more disproportionate response from the Israelis. And the vicious cycle continues. More than half of the people in Gaza are under the age of eighteen; that’s a lot of angry, disenfranchised young people. Teachers report behavior problems in schools—conduct that demonstrates outward frustration and a sense of helplessness in the face of war and violence. Violence against women has escalated in the last ten years, as it always does during confl ict. Unemployment and the related feelings of futility and hope- lessness create a breed of people who are ready to take action because they feel like outcasts—like they have nothing to lose, and worse, nothing to save. > ey are trying to get the attention of the people outside our closed borders: those who make decisions about who is welcome and who is not. > eir rallying cry is “Look over here, the level of suff ering in this place has to stop.” But how can Gazans attract the attention of the international community? Even humanitar- ian aid organizations depend on permission from Israel to enter and leave the Gaza Strip. > ere is a blatant abuse of power by people given the title of border patrol offi cer and a uniform, but who may not even understand the implications beyond a simple list of rules dictated by ego-driven leaders. > ey are disconnected from the common ground with others who are fellow human beings. > e acts of violence committed by the Palestinians are expres- sions of the frustration and rage of a people who feel impotent and hopeless. > e primitive and cheap Qassam is actually the most expensive rocket in the world when you consider the consequences—the life-altering repercussions it has created on both sides of the divide and on the Palestinians in particular.