Gazans suffering trauma

US journalist, Alice Su wrote in The Atlantic:

Eight months after last summer’s war between Israel and Palestinian militant groups, Gaza remains in ruins.

Drive five minutes into the territory from the crossing point in southwestern Israel and you reach Beit Hanoun, one of the areas hit most severely by land and air during the conflict.

Bright blue sky spreads over buildings with big bites taken out of them.

Half-eaten bedrooms and kitchens yawn open to reveal tangled wires, broken rock, and household goods: a slipper, a pack of sanitary pads, a ripped-up schoolbook.

People peek over mounds of rubble from tents behind their former homes, like aliens come to settle an abandoned planet.

Driving through the city, you see murals of doves and children holding hands, UNRWA cartoons about saving water and picking up trash, and then a stick figure blowing up an Israeli tank.

Across the street, someone has scrawled a Star of David on a garbage bin.

But ask what people are doing, and they say, “Sitting.Waiting.”

Those who survived last summer’s war are trapped in 360 square kilometers of trauma and contradiction, choking on war and blockade, disillusioned with the Palestinian leadership and disempowered by the aid community.

They sit without jobs, relief, or means of rebuilding, waiting for things to change.

“Gaza is hell,” 20-year-old Ahmad told me in Shejaiya, one of the worst-hit neighborhoods in Gaza City.

He and his 19-year-old brother were picking over the leftovers of their home.

Sometimes they sell salvaged iron and rubble for recycling; other days they search for their old photos, papers, and clothes.

In Beit Lahia, a town just north of Gaza City, I met a group of unemployed men and asked them what Gazans want.

“At least 12 hours of electricity,” 29-year-old Mohamed Kilani said, laughing.

“People in Gaza are so happy,” he snorted.

“Just give us an hour of electricity and we’re on top of the world.”

Kilani studied law at Gaza’s Al-Azhar University, but hasn’t received a diploma because he can’t afford to pay off his tuition fees.

His friend Ali, who studied mathematics at the Islamic University, got in on the joke.

“Gaza is like heaven. There’s never any work!” One night, I stood on a roof with a bride’s aunts and sisters, watching a bachelor’s party below.

The groom’s friends whooped as they carried him on their shoulders, sweating and whirling in celebration.