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A Day in
Rafah*
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Israel uses tanks and Apaches to fire warning shots at demonstrators. |
Last
night I tried to sleep. It was a hopeless task. The adrenalin still
charged through my body with the events in Rafah still fresh in my
mind. The adrenalin had been pumping from the minute we made the
decision to break for the border, to go to Rafah.
Rafah,
scene of the largest Israeli military incursion since the start of
the Intifada, is a packed town and refugee camp with narrow streets
between each of the tiny concrete houses.
At
the bottom of
El-Bahare street
we saw a small number of demonstrators beginning to gather – maybe
one hundred people. We all hoped that the number would stay small
and insignificant. We went to another area near what is called the
Selahadeen Gate. The same scenes of emptiness greeted us. As we
stepped carefully across the Selahadeen road, mindful of the IDF
watchtower looming over us, we listened to the sound of the
“drones” above. These unmanned Israeli planes can apparently
take real time images of what is happening on the ground and pass it
to military commanders; consequently, the IDF is very informed about
each operational decision it takes.
It
took only seconds for the news to reach us: the
demonstration had been hit. |
|
We
walked around for some time. I saw the desolated petrol station. On
my first trip to Rafah I had spoken to the owner who told me that he
had been forced out of his home and that soon he expected that his
business would be destroyed, located as it was at the center of one
of the key friction points. Now his prophesy had been fulfilled: it
was gone. We could hear the noise of a crowd developing a short
distance away from us; it was obviously the protest which had grown
in size (we now know it was 3000 people). At least three Apache
helicopters hovered above. One began firing. First, it fired 14
heat-seeking decoys over the crowd. Then we heard a thundering burst
of gunfire and tucked ourselves up against a wall, unsure of the
source or direction. We watched another Apache turn and head in what
seemed to be our direction. Then three loud explosions, clearly and
distinctly, shelling coming from the direction of the protest. It
took only seconds for the news to reach us: the demonstration had
been hit. In disbelief, we ran back to our car to go immediately to
the scene of the destruction.
The Israelis have now stated that the events yesterday involved a
number of possibilities. Firstly, they argued that the area was
“saturated with explosive devices” planted by Palestinian
militants. This is a particularly cowardly and feeble excuse. Then
later they claimed that they were firing warning shots at the crowd.
If this is true then the question must be asked what kind of
democratic country uses tanks and Apaches to fire warning shots at
demonstrators. In most countries water cannon is deployed. In
Northern Ireland Police and Army regularly discharged rubber
bullets. But to fire rockets on a crowd – which appears from the
TV images to have been unarmed – is a unique approach to a public
order problem. On the issue of whether or not the crowd was unarmed,
one Palestinian told me that it was the first time he had ever seen
an unarmed demonstration in
Gaza
.
What
kind of democratic country uses tanks and Apaches to fire
warning shots at demonstrators? |
|
We
surveyed the destruction from the top of the tall Municipality
building which oversees
El-Bahare street
. We watched as bloodied kids were carried to ambulances, three
being put in the back of each one to deal with limited resources.
Reports were coming in of scores of injuries and deaths ranging from
5-25 (as of yet unclear). Plumes of smoking were suffocating the
camp. East, west, north and south we could see tanks and bulldozers
operating. Heavy firing was coming from the border area where we had
just been. We could see the gunfire lighting up the positions of
those firing.
Police cars drove around the streets hollering into megaphones that
the hospital needed more people to give blood. One Arab journalist
came to the rooftop, which was the de facto center of press
operations. He was sweating as he ripped off his bulletproof vest.
The pictures you saw on the TV were his. “My legs they were jelly,
jelly”: he repeated this over and over again. The chaos continued
as taxis and ambulances, police cars and fire trucks all carried
wounded to the tiny hospital. The sound of sirens pierced our ears.
People could be heard shouting, screaming, crying with anguish and
despair, their arms held aloft in disbelief.
One of our party, from Rafah, had a brother reportedly in the
hospital who could not be contacted. We waited for the news until
eventually his well-being was established.
Shortly after, we reluctantly, but prudently opted to leave Rafah.
Adrenaline is the human response that demands a fight or flight
reaction. We chose flight. The difficulty of the return journey was
inevitable. Also we had planned a visit to the Al-Mawasi area, where
Palestinians have been forced to register as residents. The whole
town is caged off and each resident has to have an electronic card
to enter through the cattle-like turnstiles. There are no shops in
Al-Mawasi and it is common for those who leave to be kept waiting
for unbearable periods of time. Most of the sixty people we met had
been there for a day and half, some as long as three. Their fresh
produce was rotting in the sun, necessitating another trip outside
almost immediately after they get back into their homes. But their
stories are for another day.
I still recall the last woman I spoke to before I left Rafah. Our
car had stopped to buy some provisions in a shop, in case we were
stopped for long hours at the Abu Houli checkpoint, which divides
Gaza
from north and south. She approached me; her face was wrinkled and
worn. It had begun to rain in Rafah only minutes previously. She
held her arms in the air, tears or rain running down her face. Her
tears got caught in the crevices of her face, running like tiny
streams through a rock formation. She cried out “Allah bibki,
Allah bibki” (God is crying [for us]).
Eoin
Murray is living in
Gaza
and working with human rights activists. He is a volunteer and
rapporteur for Front
Line, an NGO based in his hometown of
Dublin
. He holds a masters degree in War Studies from
Kings
College
,
London
.
*A
full report on Rafah is published by www.openDemocracy.net.
openDemocracy.net is a forum for debate on issues of global politics
and
culture. It is home to creative international dialogue that builds
understanding through access to free thought and informed analysis.
openDemocracy.net is based in
London
and has editors in
New York
and
New Delhi
.
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