I have never been to Gaza. When I started to work for ANERA in March, we quickly planned two trips there for me. But the situation deteriorated (as it so often does in this region) and we had to cancel.

 

Today, I finally went there. Together with Femke and our (American) boss Tom, I drove down to the Eretz border crossing between Israel and Gaza. There, Kafka would have felt just at home. Femke and me only had to wait an hour or so to be let out of Israel, but Tom was kept for three hours, which included a body search.

 

Finally we could leave the heavily fortified passport control and continue. After navigating trough the huge building, generously sprinkled with security cameras, we ended up in front of a huge concrete wall with a tiny heavy armored door. On the other side lay Gaza. I have visited a few prisons in Sweden as a journalist, and this reminded me of the high security prison Hall. But a lot worse.

After some waiting, the armored door suddenly slid aside and we could pass through. Technically, we were now in Gaza, but the Israelis still had full control. First, a long walk in the close to 40°C heat. Then we came to long tunnel, created of prefabricated concrete blast walls. In the beginning, a heavy iron gate sealed the tunnel. Here, we had to wait for a while until it suddenly started to open and we could sneak through. I was carrying both special powdered milk for sick children and a cooling box with very expensive medicines. And of course my little mission backpack with two cameras, three lenses, laptop, cables etc.

 

Coming out of the tunnel, we stepped into a dusty desolated no-mans-land. The surroundings bore witness of Israeli wrath in form of crushed concrete and twisted steel. It used to be an industrial zone, but it is now turned into a grueling graveyard for Gaza’s economic future.

 

A few hundred meters of walking trough this sad landscape took us to “Shamsa shamsa” the point which marks how far Palestinians can go without risking to be shot at. Here, we were met by ANERA’s friendly Gaza chief, Salah. We loaded all the medicines and milk into his (thankfully air-conditioned) car and drove towards Gaza City.

 

After just some hundred meters, we passed the Hamas checkpoint, which is the closest you get to a Palestinian border control nowadays. On a table in the little fortified position lays a quran and a few AK-47’s. Behind them sat two-three bearded guys in blue camouflage outfits. The quickly waved us through.

 

Finally, I am in Gaza.

 

After a spicy falafel lunch (the Gazan food is much more spicier than the food in the West Bank) I was driven to the coast by Nahed and Muhammad, both ANERA engineers. I needed photos of raw sewage, one of the few things there is no shortage of in Gaza. They took me to the Beach Camp. It sounds rather nice, but in reality it is a poor and cramped refugee camp run by UN. Where the camp meets the sea, a jumble of garbage, stone and crushed concrete seemed to be the beach. In the middle, a little fountain of brown smelly sewage poured up and found its way into the waves. Next to it, two young boys were fishing with a little hand-thrown net. The fish is attracted by the sewage, so for the boys it is an excellent place to try to catch them. That the sewage (and therefore the fish) carries a wealth of highly dangerous bacteria is totally disregarded.