Castles in the sand

With the last soldier out of Gaza, Palestinians ponder a future in which freedom may mean even greater isolation, writes Graham Usher in Gaza

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CELEBRATION: After Monday's final departure of Israeli military forces from Gaza, Palestinians swim in the warm waters of the Mediterranean in freedom. On the Gaza-Egyptian border, at Rafah, thousands of Palestinians tore down walls and climbed fences to be re-united with relatives on the Egyptian side of the formerly contiguous city

At 3am on 12 September the last Israeli soldier left the occupied Gaza Strip. Following his departure the people, his government and army had suborned for 38 years, rose to reclaim their land in a swelling, gathering and inexorable tide.

Some came out of a sense of freedom -- like the thousands who streamed through the now empty shell of Neve Dekalim, past the parched shanties of Muwasi and finally to the sea: for many it was the first time they had reached the shore in five years. Eight Palestinians drowned in the baptism, for want of lifeguards and the impenetrability of the mass to ambulances.

Some came out of vengeance: torching synagogues, crushing toys beneath their boots and planting Palestinian flags on the ruins of red-tiled villas. Some came in victory, like the truckloads of Islamic Jihad fighters, black hoods on their faces, rocket propelled grenades strapped to their arms and vowing that "the resistance would continue."

Thousands came to scavenge, sifting through the sands for copper-plated bullets -- "$2 a kilo" -- ripping netting from greenhouses and stacking light-fittings, concrete pillars, iron cable, plastic piping and even palm trees on carts drawn by exhausted donkeys. By mid-day Monday Neve Dekalim resembled nothing so much as a teeming, humming Egyptian souq.

But most came to look -- standing in awe before the realisation that Gaza was free of soldiers, settlers and settlements. "I can't quite take it in," said 16-year-old Haithem Abu Tukia, atop the broken watchtower of the Netzarim settlement. "For years this thing was the bane of our life and now... now it's a castle in the sand."

But the overriding emotion was a raw, visceral ambivalence. "I feel joy because the settlers have left, that the bulldozers that destroyed our lands, our fields, have destroyed their lands, their fields," said Moussa Al-Ghoul from Siyifa village in northern Gaza.

In the last five years Al-Ghoul has seen his village divided in two by a chained fence. He has watched while 90 per cent, 3,500 dunums, of its land was taken to secure the minuscule settlements of Alei Sinai and Dugit. Three members of his family have been killed by the army including, in October 2004, his brother Adnan, second- in-command of Hamas's military wing, Ezzeddin Al-Qassam. "And I feel sorrow at the sacrifice, the sheer number of people who had to give their lives, to reach this point."

Ambivalence also marked the response of the Palestinian Authority. On 11 September two official ceremonies were held to mark the end of Israel's "responsibility" for Gaza. The Palestinians did not attend. "The Palestinian leadership has understood that Israel does not intend to fulfil its commitment to a total withdrawal," said PA Civil Affairs Minister Mohamed Dahlan.

One reason for the Palestinians' anger was the Israeli cabinet's last-minute decision to leave 23 of Gaza's 25 synagogues standing -- a cynical move Dahlan accurately described as a "fireball" in which the PA would be damned internationally if it did destroy the structures and damned domestically if it did not. Even the Americans were annoyed by an Israeli meanness of spirit whereby the PA would be criticised "whatever it does".

Another reason was the location of one of the ceremonies -- Gaza's northern exit into Israel. The Palestinians are adamant this lies on occupied land and want the border pushed north to the 1949 armistice line agreed between Egypt and Israel. Israel is not only refusing to budge, it is building a fully equipped border crossing.

But the main cause was the unresolved status of Gaza's southern Rafah crossing to Egypt, the Palestinians' only outlet to the world. On 7 September -- the day 750 Egyptian soldiers took up new positions on the Rafah border -- Israel decided the issue: unilaterally.

It closed the crossing for six months, insisting that from 25 September onwards all people and goods must pass through Kerem Shalom, a parcel of land where the Egyptian, Israeli and Gazan borders meet. Until then all traffic must enter and exit Gaza via Erez, a 120km detour that means Palestinians must pass through Israel. After six months probation Israel may allow third monitors at Rafah, depending on whether agreements can be reached on security and customs. But the immediate prospect is of an already arduously slow crossing becoming glacial.

The PA was furious, not least Dahlan, aware that his claims to leadership depend on an improvement in Palestinian lives, not their further restriction. The question is what can the Palestinian leadership do about it, apart from boycotting ceremonies?

There are some who argue that Egypt and the PA should open Rafah unilaterally but it is a strategy fraught with risk. Israel has warned that any "unauthorised" opening of the crossing would be met by the removal of the customs union between Israel and the PA, an economic sanction that could cost the Palestinians millions in unreturned taxes. The Palestinians' last remaining hope is that Egypt's General Intelligence chief, Omar Suleiman, will negotiate a deal that has so far eluded him. But the Israelis are rejecting all solutions other than the one they have dictated.

The consequences are already being felt. On 12 September thousands of Palestinians in Rafah scaled walls, dug under walls and pulled down barriers to join their kin on the Egyptian side of the border. One Palestinian was killed in the melee, allegedly by an Egyptian soldier. There is also a steady trade in cigarettes, cheeses and medicines, reaching all the way from Arish to Gaza City. Israel was outraged. "This is their [the Egyptians] test and this is how they will be judged," railed law-maker Ephraim Sneh. "We didn't bring them there for anything else." Sooner or later the crossing will be closed and Gaza will actually be more isolated after the "liberation" than before. This will be bad news for Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas. But it is also bad news for Egypt, which will stand accused of strengthening its presence at the border at the expense of Palestinian access and in the service of Israel's security.

"Palestinians will then ask one simple question," says Mona Al-Fara, a doctor from Khan Younis. "After the struggle, the steadfastness and the relief of seeing the settlers go, they will ask: is this what disengagement means -- the right to travel freely from Gaza City to Rafah?"