My Grandpa Lives in Gaza

By Laila Al-Arian, The Nation. Posted January 3, 2009.

When he finally moved back to Gaza, my grandfather changed. He stopped a lifelong habit of chain smoking and embraced the outdoors, faithfully tending the garden in his courtyard. He drank mint tea in his nephews' vineyard and ate from the fig trees he could only dream about years before. But he was also dismayed by the changes he observed. His hometown had become so overcrowded that trees were cut down to make room for more buildings. With more than 10,000 people per square mile, it has the highest population density in the world. (Considering Gaza's overcrowded environment, it is hard to fathom how anyone can argue that Israeli's aerial bombardment is focused exclusively on "Hamas targets.")

My grandfather, throughout his life, never belonged to any political factions, but like many Gazans he hoped that Hamas' election would bring back a semblance of law and order. Palestinian Authority officials had been dogged by allegations of corruption since they began administering Gaza and the West Bank under the 1993 Oslo accords. To many Gazans, the PA and its minions were no better than gangsters.

With Israel's draconian blockade of Gaza, imposed as punishment for the election of Hamas and backed by the U.S. and Europe, my grandfather's life was transformed yet again. Medication to treat his diabetes was in short supply and because of a shortage of gas and electricity, his family was forced to use primitive kerosene burners for cooking. Bakeries now had to resort to baking bread with animal feed and sewage treatment plants were crippled as fuel ran out, forcing the water authority to dump millions of liters of waste into the Mediterranean Sea. Electricity was scarce, with homes receiving an average of only six hours a day. Unemployment shot up to 67 percent. Because of the border closures, my grandfather's nephews, who used to work in construction in Israel, now had no source of income. Israel's blockade caused a slow starvation of the entire population, as malnutrition rates spiked upwards of 75 percent among the strip's 1.5 million residents. As in most siege situations, children suffered the most from hunger and disease.

As missiles rain over Gaza, I can only imagine what my grandfather is thinking. Much of the territory's civilian infrastructure, including police stations, universities, mosques and homes, has been decimated. In the Jabalya refugee camp, five sisters, the eldest aged seventeen and the youngest only four, were killed on Monday as they slept in their beds when an Israeli air strike hit a mosque by their home. Their parents told reporters they assumed they were safe, since houses of worship typically are not military targets. The cemetery where the girls were buried was filled to capacity, so they were placed in three graves. A United Nations spokesperson said the killing is a "tragic illustration that this bombardment is exacting a terrible price on innocent civilians." The bereaved father expressed the sentiments of so many in Gaza in an interview with the Washington Post. "I don't have anything to do with any Palestinian faction. I have nothing to do with Hamas or anyone. I am just an ordinary person." A few days after the attack, I found out that the girls were relatives of our family friends in Florida.

I asked my mother why my grandfather did not leave Gaza while its gates were still open. Why he didn't leave before the siege, before life became unbearable, and before this latest bombardment. "Because that's where he feels he belongs," she said. "He was always homesick before. Gaza is where his parents were buried. It's where he wants to die."

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