Olympia delegates in Rafah describe the effects of Israeli occupation

author : Rochelle Gause | Serena Becker topic : Olympia-Rafah Sister City Project | Palestine | Rachel Corrie | Rafah

by Serena Becker and Rochelle Gause

Ten hours difference, some 6,800 miles away from Olympia, we are staying in the home of a Palestinian family in Rafah and it feels like an extension of our own families. We are part of a group of four, hopefully five soon, who have traveled to the Occupied Palestinian Territories as a delegation of the Olympia Rafah Sister City Project. After Rachel Corrie was killed, our hearts and minds were drawn to this place. We have come in the hopes of connecting with the community and creating lasting ties through tangible projects and cross-cultural exchanges. Through the last two and a half years we have closely followed the news coming out of Rafah, educating ourselves on the political situation, and reading numerous perspectives on what is necessary for peace and justice.

Now that we have spent five weeks in the West Bank and Gaza, we are seeing all these realities on the ground. The power differential between Israel and Palestine is undeniable and international laws are clearly being broken, but none of this has prepared us for understanding people's daily lives, the resistance of just living, surviving here. It is the daily invitations into family homes to chat and drink tea, talking about what fashion is like in America, being asked about how Americans perceive Palestinians, laughing together, playing with the children, which makes it almost incomprehensible that we are living amongst people who's entire lives are dictated by the will of an outside force, the Israeli military and government. And that this is funded by the everyday lives of working American families.

Looking out over the balcony of the home where we are currently staying in Rafah, children walk home from school, parents shop, taxis rush by barely avoiding head-on collisions. People ride bikes and donkey carts pass by carrying anything you can imagine, food, building supplies, people. Beyond the intense poverty people face here (60% unemployment in the Gaza Strip) life feels normal in these moments.

The occupation is the slow strangulation of peoples' lives. This is not an all out bloody battle field the way war is often perceived. Violence here comes not only in the form of F-16s and American made tanks, but poverty, an undrinkable water supply, a devastated economy, and daily acts of intimidation. It is a process of eradication with Israel holding all of the cards. In the territories there is the perpetual feeling that you are walking on a thin layer of ice; you never know when it is going to break, when you will fall through into the ice cold reality.

Look closer, submerged, you see what lies beyond the normality of everyday life. In our first month we spent time traveling and working in the West Bank with Palestinians and internationals non-violently resisting the occupation. Each experience we had was unique, yet threaded through them all was the constant reminder of the Israeli military occupations tight grip, controlling an entire population of 2.4 million people. This strangle-hold on life is so immense it has become integrated into society.

While in the Sulfeit region, we stayed with a family in the village of Dir Istya. That night we slept in their daughter's room with every single free square inch on the floor taken up by girls and blankets, reminiscent of a middle school slumber party. The oldest daughter brushed and braided my hair and we danced to Arabic MTV-style music. We stayed with this family because the Israeli military has been making regular visits in the middle of the night trying to arrest their 17 year old son for reasons unknown to them. His younger brother is already being held. Israel has a long history of detaining people without trial on secret evidence, some for over 5 years. The soldiers come in the night, pounding on the door, shooting into the air, climbing on the roof looking for him. He is not there; he rarely sleeps at home anymore knowing that any night they could come for him. It is hard to find any man in the West Bank who has not been detained at some point in his life. We slept there to document human rights abuses and ease the fears of the mother, whose health has been declining due to the stress of the situation.

Earlier in the week we spent time picking olives. Wandering up the hillside that surrounds the village of Salem, located outside of Nablus in the West Bank, we followed the oldest son through the olive grove as he led the donkey loaded with empty bags to their family's trees. Being out in the fields under the hot sun in the dust was reminiscent of being at home picking blackberries or blueberries rather than accompanying a Palestinian family threatened by the violence of settlers. Settlers have cut down olive trees, burned them, stolen olives, attacked and even killed the local villagers in their groves. There is a history of settler violence through out the West Bank and Salem is no exception with the settlement Elon More situated just to the north of the village. For these reasons internationals have been asked to accompany Palestinians during the harvest in many areas of the West Bank.

In Gaza, where the settlers were recently forced to leave and the military re-deployed to the borders, air and sea, we have visited many places that hold the memory of daily violence, constant gunfire and raids. In Rafah, staying with the family whose home Rachel died defending, Dr. Samir told us how through this time he found his strength in the eyes of his youngest daughter, Eman. The strength required to stand confidently in front of his three beautiful children during the years of night after night tanks firing around and into their home. Although he was full of fear, he would stand showing none of it, even on nights when Israeli soldiers came into his home, forcing him to gather his entire family in a corner of their living room and sit for hours held at gunpoint. One night, tanks firing all around them, Eman, who would usually cower and cry in this situation, entered the garden and began dancing. Eyes wide, Dr. Samir told us, one more year and his children would have gone crazy.

Five weeks in Palestine and it is clear that our government's foreign policy in the Middle East is creating more hatred, more division, and more injustice on a global scale. In Rafah these divisions are clear, people look skeptically at us as we walk down the street. They ask us if our government sent us here. This work is difficult and US foreign policy only aids in making it more so. But this is why we are here, to challenge the roles they place on us: terrorist, patriot, freedom fighter and on and on. We cannot let our government dictate the way people across the globe relate to each other. We must work to create a more holistic world view, one in which we struggle together, support each other and recognize that our liberation is tied to that of one another. Living here, the similarities of our daily lives are undeniable; we all need food, jobs, clean water and a roof over our heads. These things sound obvious but the media and our governmental policies dehumanize others. With two more months in Rafah remaining, we hope through this work, the people we meet, and the connections we make to create a sustainable relationship that will be fostered between people in both of our communities. We can only counter the negative actions of our government and the mistrust it breeds one by one. This is why we came here. We hope that our small effort will add to the ripples of solidarity already resonating throughout the world.