Bumps in the Road
On surviving in Gaza by Ton van
der Kroon
‘I
remember every bump in the road’, says R. ‘It is an art to drive here and not
crash your car’. We zigzag over the street, heading towards the beach of Khan
Youris, the most southern city of the Gaza area. A few minutes later we sit on
a high dune, overlooking the Mediterrean Sea, its waves high and white. This is
the only freedom there is. In an area of 40 km’s long and about 8 km wide 1,5
million people live hurlded together. After the war with Israel in 1948
thousands of refugees fled to this little strip of land, almost driven into the
sea. Now, 60 years later, they are locked in the biggest open-air prison on
earth: the Gaza-area. Isolated from the world, most younger Gazeans have never
been “outside”. They don’t know about the development and luxury in what used
to be their own country.
The
land of milk and honey is not for them. Instead they live in a place that looks
like a scene from a Mad Max movie after World War III: a landscape of broken
buildings, grey concrete that has been scattered around, rubbish everywhere,
donkeys with little carts as transportation and taxi’s that ride on cooking
oil, creating a strange smell in the air. The largest percentage of the
population are children. The average life expectancy is 47 years old.
The
creation of the state of Israel had a high price,- on both sides-, but it seems
the Gazaen’s are hit the most. They have lost their land, their homes, their
freedom and they are quickly loosing their humanity. Put too many rats in a
closed area and they start eating each other. Religious fanaticism, brute force
and strict social rules have taken over. What used to be one of the most
abundant areas of Palestine has deteriorated into the armpit of the world.
Here
I sit with R., silently overlooking the sea. His son, A., who is 4 years old is
playing in the sand. ‘In 1948 250 people were shot off this dune into the
beach.’ R. tells. “Now we torture and kill our own people.’ He points towards a
big building that used to be an Isreali settlement, but is now taken by Hamas
and turned into detention area. R. is 33 years old. He grew up as a young
rebel, throwing stoned at the Israeli’s, till one time he was caught and
punished hard. When some years later the woman he loved desperately couldn’t be
with him, because of the war, he decided his life was over. He signed in for a
suicide training in Yougoslavia, but fate decided otherwise. His mother pleaded
to say goodbye to her son, and at the encounter she took his passport. There
was no way he could ever get out of Gaza again. Desperately he took a cleaning
job in a theatre, and while sweeping the floor looking at the actors, he found
his destiny.
Now
many years later, he is the artistic director of a theatre-school, creating
plays for schoolchildren and training actors in a three years program for drama
teachers.
While
we enjoy the fresh air of the sea, we discuss the program for the coming days.
I coach the production group of 8 men, hoping to go on tour to Europe in the
fall. Inshallah. If God wants it. Apart from this, 60 young men and women will
be trained as guides for the summer festival, in which 2000 children will
escape their world for a week of theatre. My part of the training is trauma and
stress release, and helping the people to cope with their emotions. When we
start the next morning, sitting in a circle with the 30 men, there is no way to
describe what happens. Guided by soft music, candles and meditation the
emotional wall starts to tremble down. Thirty minutes later the room looks like
a battle field. Men are lying scattered all over the floor, crying, screaming,
sobbing, holding each other. Some have fainted, others are staring blankly into
nothingness. The amount of grief and pain is overwhelming.
Later,
when everyone has recovered, stories are shared. M., a young man I know from
two earlier workshops, tells about his fear of being alone. ‘I see myself
sitting in a corridor, and nobody is home. They are all gone. Strange people
attack our house and want to take me away.’ While in the two earlier workshops
M. became unconscious for more than an hour, he is finally able to tell his
story. His oldest brother was accused of being a traitor. The car with his best
friend driving it was hit by an Israeli-rocket. The car exploded and his friend
was dead. Since there were more dubious casualties in his family, some cousins suspected
the brother of working together with the Israeli’s. They came to the house of
the father, giving him a choice between the life of his oldest son or the three
other sons. Together with his cousins the father went to look for his oldest
son and killed him. Later on he discovered his son wasn’t guilty. When M.
finishes his story, we are all crying, and we crawl towards him, holding him,
not knowing how to cope with so much grief.
A.,
one of the other actors, starts to shout and can’t control himself anymore: ‘I
hate this life, I hate this world, I hate everything.’ He stands up and runs
into the wall, leaving a big hole. ‘I want to kill myself.’ He keeps on
shouting, and three other men jump on him to keep him to the ground in order to
avoid hurting himself.
These
are only a few stories. After four days of work we are emotionally exhausted,
relieved, sad, happy, angry and very intimate. We haven’t solved the world, but
we are a bit more free inside. We know the dark corners of our soul and the
immense grief that can keep us from living fully.
It’s
time to say goodbye. I will leave this place again, returning to the ‘normal’
world outside, but my heart stays in Gaza, with these brave and courageous
young men and women. The taxi brings me back to the checkpoint of Erez, where
the road stops. There is only a little door in the concrete wall surrounding
Gaza; the only door like a prison door separating Gaza from Israel. I leave the
place. Outside another taxi awaits me, driving fast through the hills towards
Jerusalem. The road is clear and straight. But all I remember are the bumps in
the road.
Ton
van der Kroon has been giving to men’s workshops for over 20 years. Apart from
this he is the initiator of the yearly Healing Conference in Jericho (2-9 May). He lives
in Amsterdam and is the author of four books. www.tonvanderkroon.nl
Tree of Life Foundation
To
support my work in Gaza we have created the Tree of Life Foundation. It covers
several projects. One of the projects is the working with the actors in Gaza.
As there is hardly any budget to pay me, financial support would be very
welcome to continue this work. In 2009 I will go to Gaza again; this time 3
times for a ten days Trauma & Stress release with the actors and drama
teachers. Like this year, I will hardly get paid for these visits. Still I feel
I need to be there to continue the work with these brave people. If the work I
appeals to you, you can contribute by a donation attn. Tree of Life Foundation ING 1517811, Amsterdam
From
abroad: IBAN: NL)(INGB0001517811 BIC: INGBNL2A
if you want to be involved more in the healing work, come to the Healing Conference in Jericho, the oldest city in the world, on the lowest spot of the world (300 metres below sealevel). www.healing-conference.com
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