Tuesday’s Child Blog 2008

Tuesday’s Child goes to Gaza

Gaza - to hell and back
Tuesday’s Child has supported children in Gaza since November 2007. We currently fund a feeding programme for 1050 children in 150 families and help 3 primary schools in the strip. We work in partnership with the Daughters of Charity, in Ain Karem, Jerusalem, and we donate 100 percent of proceeds. This report covers our two-day field visit to Gaza.

31st August 2008

8 a.m.
We arrive at Erez, the northern border of Gaza at 8 a.m. The heat is already a blistering 39 degrees. The Erez terminal, is about the same size as Belfast International Airport, a formidable border for the 40km strip of land that lies behind it, home to some 1.5 million Palestinians, both Muslim and Christian. The military presence is considerable and an Israeli spy blip hovers overhead. The Red Cross help us with our bags as far as the main gate: 3 large cases and 2 rucksacks, about 120kg of school supplies.

Clearance was approved for entry into Gaza on 27th August 2008, the same day I flew to Tel Aviv. We had been waiting several months so it was a relief when it finally came through. Despite official clearance, the interrogation at the border is intensive. While waiting at the external gate I step one foot back into the shade and am barked at to return to the spot where I was standing by a security guard; she could not be more than 21 yrs old. One of the Red Cross guys, who must have read my face, put his finger to his lips, signaling to me to say nothing. It was a good tip, as there would be much more of it to come. After passing through a series of security gates we arrive in what I can only describe as a narrow airport hangar, with bits of rag hanging down in places and I notice over a period of about 60 feet, what appears to be, spots of dried blood on the walls. The silence is deafening. We walk for about _ mile turning onto an open sandy stretch. I would love to take out my video camera. Here we meet some Palestinian men who help us with our luggage. We follow them by foot for another _ mile until we reached the Palestinian border. The total crossing takes about 45 minutes.

As we walk towards the Palestinian border I scan the horizon without looking back at the electronic and human eyes still watching us. It is surreal and hard to take in, like walking into the film set of a nuclear disaster movie, devastation and destruction all around as far as the eye can see. I am immediately struck by the sheer contrast between the two sides of the Erez terminal, from the high- tech, wealthy and fertile world of Israel and the busy fast-flowing motorway into this wasteland littered with crumbling buildings, piles of rubble and desert scrub. There is not as much as a flower or garden and barely a car in site. To the left and right, piles of rubble litter the sand with some larger buildings burnt out, some their shells still teetering, others a caved in mess. All around the cold 28ft wall of steel, similar to that which encloses and isolates the West Bank. Unfortunately, it is still not possible to film here. The silence is pin-drop. Apart from the wall and the spy blip, no sign of tanks and guns. I would realise later, it was a good time to enter. The international humanitarian boats docked a few days earlier and, with the world media focusing on the strip, military presence was unusually low key.

Just before the Palestinian border, on the left, about 15 pairs of eyes bore into me, all men, sitting outside a waiting area; it, too, broken and run down, probably a café in its day. I notice they are all incredibly thin and unshaven, a ragged looking people with haunting eyes and sunken cheeks. I acknowledge each group as we pass, much to the concern of my traveling partner, as it is not Palestinian custom for a woman to salute men in this way or to have their head uncovered in public. However, they nod quietly and respectfully in return and my heart goes out to these men who are clearly suffering unnecessarily. I wonder what stories of human misery are behind these saddest of eyes.

Click to download an MS Word doc to continue reading about our visit to Gaza»

Tuesday 4th March 2008
I was in Grenada for a few weeks in February. The damage caused by the hurricane Ivan is still immediately evident across the country and everywhere I go, people talk of their experience. One man describes how he lost his house completely and he was left with the clothes he was wearing. He has lived with a friend since. I don’t think I could cope it I lost my home, let alone had to go without my touch éclat and toothbrush, never mind a change of clothes! Another man tells me that his third child was only 9 days old when Ivan struck; his house was shattered and he managed to keep his little baby girl safe by sheltering her under a large umbrella. It’s hard to believe, walking along the sun-drenched beaches with palm trees swaying in the wind that this little paradise was thrown into such upheaval and previously happy existences turned into a living nightmare. Already a poor country, social deprivation escalated and children were among the most vulnerable.

On Ash Wednesday, I went for a walk along Grand Anse beach after mass and, behold, a Carmelite nun coming in the opposite direction; a most unexpected site on a Caribbean beach. I get the feeling that there is another project coming straight at me. Sister Dominic Xavier stops to say hello. She asks me where I am from and I tell her Ireland. She speaks of Ivan and the decimation of the country and she tells me of her little school – The Grand Anse Centre for Social Development for underprivileged girls – I knew it! I don’t go looking for projects, they just find me! This school gives girls a much needed second chance and a helping hand back to mainstream education. A hot meal is also provided each day, an incentive for attendance and facilitates well-being and learning. The school is in need of funding for maintenance and basic equipment and materials. I smile at their motto - grow where you are planted – it is close to Tuesday’s Child’s heart. The following week I am invited to come in and talk to the girls. They, like Sr Dominic, are delightful. I ask each of them their names and to tell me what they are brilliant at. I ask them what they want to do when they leave school – many high aspirations! I tell them to reach for the stars. This little school is their haven, what they go home to after school many children here couldn’t handle. The school is in real need of equipment and materials. The humidity is over-bearing, how can they learn in this heat? On the way out of the school, I meet a 16 yr old girl who is pregnant, she has no social support and comes to the school everyday for her lunch.

Back at the hotel I check my e-mails. One, an e-mail from the project in Gaza describing the worsening situation there, especially from some of the refugee families. I think back to the previous photos sent of makeshift homes in cemeteries, hardly a healthy environment for a child. The children are starving and they will run out of food again next month. The political situation and oppression is worsening. Petrol prices are escalating making the food distribution almost impossible and curfews are increasing. It reads like a ghetto situation. Children caught up in adult wars. They should let the children lead. I reassure the sisters in Gaza that I will transfer funds at the beginning of the month. At times it seems so hopeless and the donations we give a tiny ripple against a huge wave of injustice. I watch new video footage of the children being fed in one of the kindergartens. And then another e-mail, from the producer of the late late show back home, a lucky break, we have a spot on the show. I wrote to Pat Kenny before leaving for Grenada…I can’t believe it…such wonderful news…it is the exposure we need.

I will meet Sr Dominic several times again before leaving Grenada. She is an incredible woman. I tell her she should go into politics and run for President. This little pocket battleship is a central hub of aid to so many people; everything she gets she gives. I give her some money for the school and a little gift for herself. Already she has someone in mind for her gift - an elderly lady who is ill and lives alone. On another occasion, a lady comes up to say thank you – she went to the school as a child and she explains how it was a lifeline for her and how good Sr Dominic was to her. On my second last day she calls to my hotel to visit me and causes quite a stir walking around the pool bar looking for me. I order her a non-alcoholic cocktail and we have a great chat. And a gift for me – nutmeg earrings and a coconut lady! I will treasure them. I tell her I will be in touch and we will send her more money soon to help. I will also send presents for the girls and write a card to each of them. She could really do with a volunteer to help..…..

Back home and the emails from Gaza continue. Most of the children are anaemic and malnourished. I watch some video footage received and I cry. I think back to my happy memories of nursery school. I suggest sending multivitamins and iron and think of enrolling some of my friends in pharmacy around they country to help. My contact says that food supplements for children simply won’t be allowed through the gates of Jerusalem. I sit down and have my tea on the sofa and flick on the TV…the bbc news comes on – one of the headlines - an Israeli attack on Gaza, I can’t believe it. There are an estimated 80 people dead, many are young children. I wonder if it is any of the children in the video. Life is so fragile, it all seems so hopeless. Death is as bad as it gets…and infinitely worse than anaemia. It all seems so futile, what point in feeding children if they are going to be bombed into eternity.

There is so much work to do. We are launching the music album in the South of Ireland next week on 7th March. It seems somewhat frivolous now when children in one of our own projects areas are dying so needlessly.

Tuesday’s Child x

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