Mary Wakefield takes a postwar tour through Gaza and surveys a psychological landscape warped by conflict and suffering — and hear whispers of a further Israeli incursion
The border control at Erez, separating Israel from Gaza, was built in a happier age. It looks more like an airport than a checkpoint, a vast glass hangar designed with streams of Palestinian commuters in mind. Only a handful have made it through in the two years since Hamas took over. Now, two months after Israel’s 22-day war (Operation Cast Lead), there’s barely a soul in sight. One vicar outside, perspiring in the car park; one girl soldier inside checking passports. After that, just an eerie unmanned security process. Wait. Proceed to a steel holding pen. Wait. Walk down to a revolving zoo-style gate. Wait. Wait. Despair. Yell: ‘Hello?! Anybody?’ Then another door, another corridor, through a warehouse to a turnstile then out, abruptly, into no-man’s-land.
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