My last visit to Gaza was not without incident. I did not expect it to be. After all I have not been back in a couple of years. I did not think I would ever return there actually. You probably would not have gone back if you knew half of what I had to endure the last time I was there. It is torturous, scary, filthy, despicable, and the mere thought of the place makes me cringe yet every now and then I find myself returning there.

Why would anyone want to live in Gaza? Of what value is it that some people choose to call the place home? Why visit Gaza? Why can't people just be strong, bold, and move away. How much is a life worth in Gaza? Will they not be better off in neighboring cities? Why stay in war-torn and disputed Gaza? These are questions that haunt me on every visit. Sometimes I wonder whose interest my visits serve. 

A part of me is permanently stuck in Gaza and it definitely can use some help getting out. And get out it must. At least that is what I would love to see happen. My opinion does not seem to count for much though but I will no less express it in the hope that someday when that part of me escapes the stronghold of that strip, it will appreciate that I never gave up on my effort at helping it out of there.

How do you issue a cry for help when those you would like to ask actually come to you for same? How do you ask for a hand up when people expect you to be content with a hand out? In whose ears do you whisper when yours is already full? When is enough not enough? Why is it okay to settle for less when you know you could reach for more? Why should someone else determine what is sufficient? What is wrong with asking for more than enough?

Twenty-four years after my first trip to Gaza, I still can not tell if it was pre-meditated or if it was an accident. More than once or twice. The multiplicity and complexity of it suggests it could only have been planned. I have been told several times by several people, especially those who should know better, that it was nothing

“Get over it, Jumi. That was several years ago,” some would say, even while they wipe tears off their faces. Or the cliché: “you can’t talk about that. What will people do about it?” One of the most disturbing responses has often been: “you are in a different place now. You risk losing the people in your corner. You don’t have to talk about this. Let it go.

Over the last two months, I have only ever thought about one thing and every time it comes to mind, I find myself in downtown Gaza and needless to say, there is chaos in the land. I hear gun shots from different directions. I duck behind a tree, crouch under a shed, stoop, run, leap, and hope I will make it through the ordeal.

Just when I think I have been hit and terror grips my soul, it suddenly stops. All the gun shots, stampede, chaos, running in different directions; it all stops. There is quiet all around and a cease fire that only ever lasts a few hours. And then it is time to run again; or crouch, hide, bend, kneel, shout, may be even cry

I have had several narrow escapes, close calls, near misses, and quite a few head injuries in Gaza. All these however can not hold a candle to the freak accidents that I have also experienced or the many stories I have heard from people who have been to Gaza, those who live there permanently, the ones who fear to go back, those who make frequent stop-overs there, or the multitudes who can identify with or sympathize with people who can not escape the place. Most of these experiences defy logic so I have since quit trying to analyze them

Help me out of Gaza. I need a hand up. Do not stand so far away. It is not okay to stare, stand aside, and do nothing. I rarely stay this long in Gaza. I visit very rarely and when I do, it only lasts a few hours, may be a day. I have been here for two months at a stretch and still counting. This is too long a time to be in Gaza.

I hear the gun shots again. There goes a blast. Someone has been hit. She is just a few feet away from me. I am trying to stay safe but can not just stand by and watch. She is in pain. She looks so young, probably in her teens. I am going to her. Please come too. And help if you can.

The author can be reached at jumokegiwa@igilandi.org
 

Robot  Villager

# 1 My last visit to Gaza was not without incident. I did not expect it to be. After all I have not b...Read the full article. Posted by Robot| 06.03.2007 04:33

Karo Akarah  Villager

# 2 ...the world is like a garden in it men make up humanity all endevour is met with opposition the weak shrink and lose out of the race the valiant continues to challenge all odds was man made to suffer and deteriorate in much abundance?.... You dont have to go all that far to experience Gaza. Niaja is one big Gaza expecially the Niger Delta. Bring it close to home luv. We've got issues that are bigger and more important than that gaza trip of yours. lol Posted by Karo Akarah| 06.03.2007 06:15

ula-lisa  Villager

# 3 Was wondering, one jewel was missing in action- Now we know she be in Gaza. Pray tell; is that spiritual Gaza or physical, so we know how to pray... Happy New Yam.:lol: Posted by ula-lisa| 06.03.2007 10:59