THE RAFAH crossing into battered, bloodied but unbowed Gaza is chaotic and confused.
The Egyptian gate is one of three into the devastation wreaked by Israel since December 27th on an already degraded and deeply disturbed land, impoverished and laid waste time and again by war.
Outside the wrought iron gate journalists swarm at a window into the dingy concrete box where officials pore over piles of passports and sheaves of entry permits. The gilt-trimmed gates are guarded by policemen wearing the black uniforms and distinctive flat berets sported by the force since the British were colonial masters.
The journalists brandish passports and frayed documents presented directly or faxed by their embassies saying correspondents may enter Gaza at their own risk. Doctors, nurses, and human rights workers also flash their documents at potential fixers and officials.
A medical team from the Greek branch of Doctors Without Borders has been waiting for clearance for two days. “Dr Eleni is inside but her team and supplies are out,”complained a bearded aide.“More people got in before the ceasefire.”
A white lorry carrying supplies for FreeGaza.org stood on the sidelines as other lorryloads of goods grated slowly through the gates.
We wait impatiently as the sun climbs overhead.
We pace, dragging our wheeled suitcases, shedding our jackets and sweaters. A team heavy with camera equipment is called. “Co-ordination, co-ordination is the secret,” said one woman, flushed in the face. To succeed you need an influential fixer, someone inside who can work miracles. But we cannot ring people inside Gaza because phone lines are blocked. Here, Gaza is more surely sealed off from the world than the people of Jerusalem, the West Bank, or Israel. There at least the phones are working – off and on.
Four Swedish journalists and I tried to enter Gaza from Israel’s huge Erez gate but Israel is allowing only eight to enter every day, six Israel-based correspondents who are members of its foreign press association, and two among the scores of temporary foreign correspondents who have come to cover the war on Gaza. Four Swedish journalists and I made an arduous 14-hour journey from Erez through Israel’s bleak Negev desert, crossed into Egypt at the Red Sea resorts of Eilat and Taba and hurried through Sinai in the dark of night to reach el-Arish, from where we drive mornings to Rafah to stand at its gates.
The third gate at Karem Shalom is only for goods traffic. There the volume of lorryloads passing through every day is 80-100 rather than the 475-500 in normal times.
International humanitarian organisations, aid bodies and re- lief workers are also being held at the gates. We all suspect the authorities are cracking the gates just enough to let a few in to prevent the world from being deluged by horror stories. This would happen if all of us were to enter Gaza at the same time.
A cynical colleague remarked: “The inauguration of Barack Obama will keep the world preoccupied with gala receptions, dinners and balls in Washington for the next few days.
“By then Gaza will be history.”