Did
Egypt really open Rafah crossing? By Ramzy Baroud
For most Palestinians,
leaving Gaza through Egypt is as exasperating a
process as entering it. Governed by political and
cultural sensitivities, most Palestinian officials
and public figures refrain from criticizing the
way Palestinians are treated at the Rafah border.
However, there is really no diplomatic
language to describe the relationship between
desperate Palestinians - some literally fighting
for their lives - and Egyptian officials at the
crossing which separates Gaza from Egypt.
"Gazans are treated like animals at the
border," a friend of mine told me. She was afraid
that her fiance would not be allowed to leave
Gaza, despite the fact that his papers were in
order. Having
crossed the border myself
just a few days ago, I could not disagree with her
statement.
The New York Times reported on
June 8: "After days of acrimony between Hamas and
Egypt over limitations on who could pass through
the Rafah border crossing between Gaza and Egypt,
Hamas said Egypt had agreed to allow 550 people a
day to leave Gaza and to lengthen the operating
hours of the crossing."
And so the saga
continues.
A few weeks after an official
Egyptian announcement to "permanently" open the
border - thus extending a lifeline for trapped
Palestinians under siege in Gaza - the Rafah
border was opened for two days of conditional
operation in late May, and then closed again for
four days. Now it has once more "reopened".
All the announcements are proving to be no
more than rhetoric. The latest "permanent"
reopening has come with its own conditions and
limitations, involving such factors as gender,
age, purpose of visit, and so on.
“Everyone has the right to leave any
country, including his own, and to return to his
country,” states Article 13 (2) of the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights. This universal
principle, however, continues to evade most
Palestinians in Gaza.
I was one of the
very first Palestinians who stood at Rafah
following the announcement of a "permanent"
opening. Our bus waited at the gate for a long
time. I watched a father repeatedly try to
reassure his crying six-year-old child, who
displayed obvious signs of a terrible bone
disease.
"Get the children out or they
will die," shouted an older passenger as he gasped
for air. The heat in the bus, combined with the
smell of trapped sweat was unbearable.
Passengers took it upon themselves to
leave the bus and stand outside, enduring
disapproving looks from the Egyptian officials.
Our next task was finding clean water and a shady
spot in the arid zone separating the Egypt and
Palestinian sides. There were no restrooms.
A tangible feeling of despair and
humiliation could be read on the faces of the Gaza
passengers.
No one seemed to be in the
mood to speak of the Egyptian revolution, a
favorite topic of conversation among most
Palestinians. This zone is governed by an odd
relationship, one that goes back many years - well
before Egypt, under Hosni Mubarak, decided to shut
down the border in 2006 in order to aid in the
political demise of Hamas.
The issue
actually has nothing to do with gender, age or
logistics. All Palestinians are treated very
poorly at the Rafah crossing, and they continue to
endure even after the toppling of Mubarak, his
family and the dismissal of the corrupt security
apparatus. The Egyptian revolution is yet to reach
Gaza.
When the bus was finally allowed to
enter about five hours later, Palestinians dashed
into the gate, desperately hoping to be among the
lucky ones allowed to go in. The anxiety of the
travelers usually makes them vulnerable to workers
at the border who promise them help in exchange
for negotiated amounts of money. All of this is
actually a con, as the decision is made by a
single man, referred to as al-Mukhabarat, the
"intelligence".
Some are sent back while
others are allowed entry. Everyone is forced to
wait for many hours - sometimes even days - with
no clear explanation as to what they are waiting
for, or why they are being sent back.
The
very ill six-year-old held on his dad's jacket as
they walked about, frantically trying to fulfill
all the requirements. Both seemed like they were
about to collapse.
The Mukhabarat
determined that three Gazan students on their way
to their universities in Russia were to be sent
back. They had jumped through many hoops already
to make it so far. Their hearts sank when they
heard the verdict. I protested on their behalf,
and the decision was as arbitrarily reversed as it
was originally made.
Those who are sent
back to Gaza are escorted by unsympathetic
officers to the same open spot, to wait for the
same haggard bus. Some of those who are allowed
entry are escorted by security personnel across
the Sinai desert, all the way to Cairo
International Airport to be "deported" to their
final destinations. They are all treated like
common criminals.
"I can't watch my son
die in front of my eyes," screamed the father of
11-year-old Mohammed Ali Saleh, according to
Mohammed Omer for Inter Press Service (June 10).
He was addressing Egyptian troops days after the
border was supposedly "permanently" reopened - for
the second time in less than a week. Such
compelling needs as medical treatment, education
and freedom keep bringing Palestinians back. The
Israeli siege has choked Gaza to the point of near
complete strangulation. Egypt is Gaza's only hope.
"I beg you to open the crossing ... You
brothers of Egypt have humiliated us for so long.
Isn't it time we had our dignity back?” said
Naziha Al-Sebakhi, 63, one of the many distressed
faces at the Rafah border, according to Mohammed
Omer.
As they crossed into Egypt, some of
the passengers seemed euphoric. The three students
and I shared a taxi to Cairo. A tape of Umm
Kulthum's Amal Hyati - Hope of my Life -
played over and over again. Despite everything,
the young men seemed to hold no resentment
whatsoever towards Egypt.
"I just love
Egypt ...I don't know why," said Majid pensively,
before falling asleep from sheer exhaustion.
I thought of the six-year-old boy and his
dad. I wonder if they made it to the hospital on
time.
Ramzy Baroud
(www.ramzybaroud.net) is an
internationally-syndicated columnist and the
editor of PalestineChronicle.com. His latest book
is My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza's
Untold Story (Pluto Press, London), available
on Amazon.com.
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