I have been away from "home" (I put that in quotation marks, since the concept has become a little fluid for me) since Dec. 27:  40 days in Cairo, trying to get into Gaza through Rafah, unsuccessfully. Then -- after friends at UNRWA intervened and got me in through Israel's Erez Crossing – in Gaza since Feb. 8. That's five months away from the States – long enough to begin calling Gaza home.

And now, I am being asked by those I love here, “how long will you stay in Gaza?” and by those I love in the States, “when are you coming back?” (Then there are those I know in Europe, tempting me in that direction.) I am facing the existential question of what to do next with my life. Stay in Gaza, or go back to the States? And either way, for how long? "Pro and con”  lists have always helped me think through tough choices, so here goes:

What I Would Miss/Reasons Why I Should Stay in Gaza (starting with the more trivial ones)

Hands down, Gaza has the best food. Americans don't know the price they pay for their convenience culture -- the proliferation of fast food ,  along with produce and meats that are frozen or shipped so far to their final destinations that  we've forgotten what "fresh" tastes like. In Gaza, not only is the local food tradition deep, rich and varied, but – in an illustration that even very black clouds have silver linings – most of it is made that day, from local sources.  (With the power out an average of 8 hours a day, forget refrigeration, much less a deep freeze.) Even the chicken I eat in the wonderful “maglouba” (upside down) dish – chicken cooked underneath a mound of rice and nuts until it is so tender it falls off the bones – is selected, killed and cooked same day. And I guarantee you those chickens were not raised in huge farms and did not need antibiotics to fight off infection.  Then again, I am fortunate to live with the family of a woman who is also probably the best cook in Gaza. (Look for a future blog post about that!)

Most home meals in Gaza are family style (and on the floor in less affluent homes); everyone shares from common plates, which I find makes for a more intimate experience. I wish I could show you a meal in Majed's home (along with his mother's maglouba), but devout Muslim women will not allow themselves to be photographed when they are not covered! 

There is one exception to that “local is best” mantra. The ice cream! Kazim Ice Cream – which is so well known throughout Gaza that it will be on the first “tourist” map of Gaza City, soon to be printed (another upcoming blog post) – is known immediately by name throughout the Strip, and deservedly so. The owner/manager of the tiny shop – which was opened by his 85-year-old father about 50 years ago --  says his primary secret is smuggling in through the tunnels the purest of flavors from Italy, Switzerland and Greece. Whatever – I have never tasted gelato even remotely this good.

All ice cream at Kazim is homemade on the premises..the secret to the chocolate recipe is the nutella!

The call to prayer. I have to confess that I don’t really understand much of Islam, the by-far dominant religion that is practiced more devoutly by more people here than maybe any other place -- except perhaps Saudi Arabia. (That’s understandable, actually, in light of a blockade so tight and inhumane that there is literally almost nothing for people to do except smoke shisha and chat on the Internet. External influence is at a minimum and without a really remarkable faith, how would these people keep going?) I particularly have problems with the rules that bind the women here, keeping them under wraps, although most of the females I talk with not only don’t mind, they embrace it. However, I find nothing more simultaneously soothing and mesmerizing as the call to prayer. I live just around the corner from a mosque with a very melodious imam, and some nights I actually set my alarm to be sure I am awake at 4:30 a.m. to hear his voice waft over my neighborhood just as it starts to stir.  I lay in bed and listen, feeling a deep sense of inner tranquility.

The feeling of security. I’m sure that sounds rather jarring. I don’t mean security from hostile attack; I frequently participate in protests in the “buffer (no-go) zones” along the Israeli border, and we are shot at – with live ammunition – by Zionist soldiers every time. Just since I’ve been here, one has been killed and four wounded (including one international friend of mine, although the Israelis realize that – as far as the rest of the world is concerned -- harming foreigners is a problem and Palestinians is not) .  Likewise, Hamas is a frequently oppressive government that is both feared and hated by many here. (But then, I could have said the same for the American government under George Bush.) But in what city in America could you feel perfectly safe hopping into an ordinary car that the owner also uses as a taxi to make some additional money? (I sometimes wonder how much of America’s excessive paranoia about Halloween candy being tampered with, hitchhiking and terror alerts is really warranted, and how much is “urban legend” – fabricated by minds brainwashed to fear everything so we are easily intimidated and controlled.)

There are very few truly private cars here in Gaza…everyone “shares.” And what a great way to be efficient with gas, while getting exactly where you need to go? America could learn a thing or two! Gazans may not be able to afford or have access to the materials to build a rail or bus system, but they surely “get” the necessity of mass transit.

The hospitality. I am frequently asked here, “how do I find Gaza?” I answer that while their situation is terrible, I love the people. I am not sure how much of it is Arab, and how much is Islam, but the hospitality is what has kept me coming back since I first traveled to Palestine in April of 2007. I’m sure a part of it is also the smallness of Gaza. It truly feels like one big family – and they are quick to adopt you. There are friends I have made here in four months who will be friends for my lifetime.

I have been in Gaza since February, except for a 2-week detour to Brussels. In addition to experiencing more bad luck there than during my entire lifetime, I felt overwhelmingly lonely and isolated after the warmth and inclusion that is Gaza. When I returned, it was like a homecoming.

Majed (left) has a smile as wide as the ocean. I will miss his greeting of "heeeeeey" every time I see him. Mohammed is the quiet one...but has a deadpan sense of humor that fools me every time. I am hoping to bring them with me to the States for a speaking tour...keep your fingers crossed that the United States surprises me and does the right thing. They deserve to see the world too!

What I Miss/Reasons Why I Should Go Back to the States

I will ruin my lungs if I stay too long. Alcohol is not allowed in Gaza (although you can find clandestine “stashes,” mostly among foreigners, it is – for all intents and purposes – non-existent). Yet with the high stress of a society in which unemployment is sky high and the fear of attack is the uninvited guest at the dinner table, smoking is almost universal. Go into any café, and virtually everyone is smoking shisha (despite the fact that technically, it is not allowed in Islam). So, although I am a lifelong opponent of cigarettes, I find myself joining them. And according to one Gazan doctor who gave me a mini lecture on the subject, shisha packs much more of a nicotine “wallop” than cigarettes. Thank god shisha isn’t as easily portable!

 
Omar..another good friend whom I will dearly miss.

My muscles are turning to mush. Back to the rules for women in an Islamic society….Women aren’t allowed to jog outside here, and if they go into the sea to swim, they must do so fully robed (I fear they would sink like a rock!) The only alternative, then, is to go to one of the women’s gyms (exercising is decidedly non-coed!) But they invariably have only two treadmills (in a very hot, unventilated space), the weights make me cry (nothing more than 3 pounds in terms of free weights) and the classes make me laugh (they are really stretching classes – nothing that taxes the muscles or works the heart). Of course, it’s not just culture at work here (I suspect the men’s gyms are much better stocked)…it’s also the blockade. Importing elliptical trainers, spinning bikes and a full range of weights might be possible through the tunnels, but inordinately expensive.

Add to that the fact that the women who go to gyms are typically overweight (which contributes psychologically to a feeling of being out of shape), and I am starting to feel like a mass of jello. (For me, actually, that’s a serious problem. I have a mysterious autoimmune condition – I have since I was in my early 20s – and weight-resistance exercises is what keeps it at bay. My stiff, painful back in the morning is a warning sign.)

Side note: I am compelled to add to what I said just now about the restrictions on women, while also somewhat qualifying my comment further up  about security. I have learned the painful lesson here in Gaza that as a single, Western, “uncovered” woman, I am automatically regarded by some Gazan men as – to use that clichéd phrase – “easy.” Some of them are clearly not very “pure” Muslims because they so very obviously just want sex in any way they can get it – out of marriage or not. (Remember, sex is only allowed among Muslims after marriage, so there is a lot of pent-up frustration and a lot of early weddings!) Others don’t realize they are being rude; they simply seem to think they are offering me a great business deal (which is how marriage more or is less regarded here;  more to come on that in a separate entry).  Since at my age, I should be married (so they think), becoming their second wife so they can get an American passport seems like a good exchange. (Islam allows men to have up to four wives, although it is only common in situations when the first wife cannot/will not have children or becomes ill.)  Think that sounds uncivilized? Me too, but who are we to criticize??? Imagine that you had been  imprisoned inside a strip of land roughly twice the size of Washington DC for more than four years  and had no hope of getting out except perhaps by marrying a foreigner? Is it really all that unreasonable that they would hope to meet a willing accomplice? My only problem is with the ones who get obnoxious and pushy.

I am beginning to feel isolated from the world. Yes, we can read news sites, etc. here. But I have to admit that I miss the stimulating lectures from all points of view by traveling authors and thinkers, and the well-stocked progressive bookstores, of Washington DC. Not to mention the ability to jump on a bus, train or plane and cross whatever borders I please – without fear of being stopped (or worse) going in or out.  Those Gazans who decide to “escape” from the largest prison in the world pay a steep price; they are never allowed to return, leaving behind not only families but their abiding connection to their land and their people. Saying that I miss the freedom and the marketplace of ideas that I have in DC makes me feel very guilty – I hate that I have this privilege only because of my American passport.

 
What do I say to an 8-year-old girl who asks why I can go in and out of Gaza and her family cannot?  

One of the questions I receive the most often in Gaza is “why are you here?” Gazans are a bit bemused about why privileged foreigners would choose to live here, when so many of them are desperate to escape , if just for awhile. It’s a worthwhile question, and one not always easy to answer.  Am I here for me, or for them? To be honest, it has been partly for me…After the chaos that was my life for the past year, I found being in Gaza to be remarkably “grounding” – both in terms of learning to differentiate the important from the trivial and in terms of being able to work at something that feels like it will really make a difference. In the States, my professional experience  -- before being laid off -- was mostly in the corporate arena, and I was desperate for the opportunity to work for the common good instead of profits – but to be able to afford to live at the same time. I found that in Gaza.

On the other hand, it is equally important that I help advance the cause – the inch-by-inch struggle for self-determination for the Palestinians. Most people here agree  that I can probably do more by trying to effect change in the States (as hopeless as that often feels).  After five months, it may be time to take my experience back to the source of Israel’s funding – America.

I have family and friends outside of Gaza who tug at my heart as well. I want to remain a part of their lives, and even more important, I need to remain “relevant” to two daughters who don’t really understand why I am here. I hope that someday,  the example I have set will give them the courage and conviction to pursue crazy dreams of their own, no matter what their age – and to do some good for others in the process. But for now, they (or at least my oldest daughter) want me home.  That is something to treasure as well.

 
My oldest daughter, Shannon

So..the verdict? I will go back to the States. But I will always be a bi-continental person, and I will be back.