Gaza – do not forget the sweet corn

Gaza City, Palestine

Gaza is a land of paradox, where things are rarely what they seem. It is a country where all living things strive to continue. It hit me this morning, as I stood behind my reinforced metal security gate, waiting to be driven to a hospital. I am a surgeon, doing what I can for the injured. There is plenty to keep me on edge.

Another day of mayhem lay ahead. A day of filled hospital beds, of nowhere to house new admissions, of working out what to do with infections when no antibiotics could be found. A day when it would be impossible to find even a scrubbing brush to wash my hands before yet another operation with blunt instruments, inadequate swabs, needles that can barely penetrate skin, or scissors that cannot cut. Gaza is a land of shortage, of struggle, of loss, and yet it is also a country filled with drive, ambition, and potential.

As I stood behind my gate, braced for the day ahead, I saw it from the corner of an eye. I looked down, behind an irregular and dusty stone wall. The thing was purple, tiny with a yellow central core; it was a flower poking through, doing its best to look beautiful. There was nothing that would stop it. It was going to grow, it was going to thrive, and that was the way it was. It was as I bent over to smell its faint, sweet aroma that I realised this tiny bloom represented much of what Gaza displays today. There is incredible opportunity ahead if circumstance would allow it to flourish.

I returned to the vertical, half closed my eyes, and saw a replay in my mind of yesterday’s magical drive up the Gaza coastline, from south to somewhere north. For sure, Gaza instills horror in the minds of many - the misery, the poverty, the pain, families torn apart, a life of deprivation - but it is also a region of beauty.

Imagine a flat Mediterranean Sea, blue, azure maybe, barely a ripple to its surface. Imagine a yellow and sandy beach, smooth, seemingly endless, with children playing at the water's edge. Imagine a clear summer’s sky. And then see the two young men, somewhere in their mid-twenties, trying to force a sweat-stained horse into the water for its weekly wash. One man pulls, the other pushes with all his might, but the horse will not budge a solitary centimetre. The animal lifts its head, parts its lips and whinnies loudly in protest. It then sits down obstinately. It is going nowhere.

By the roadside is a stall, a young boy in yellow tee-shirt fanning the charcoal of a beaten-about grill. He has been told by his father to sell the sweet corn and, like the tourist I am not, I ask for three ears of corn. Within moments the father has found the paper and the boy has wrapped the snack.

I say, “Thank you” in unrecognisable Arabic, hand across a small quantity of cash - Gaza is not expensive - and receive a heartfelt smile from them both. There is a twinkle in their eyes, they are bright, sparkling, and utterly confident. They are happy, too. Happy in a land that so many associate with misery. I recognise as well that I have just been served by two real survivors. They are there because they are strong, committed, united as father and son. Life for them is not a soft option.

I am no Martin Luther, but I did have a dream that morning, before guzzling my sweet corn. I was nodding off silently in the back of the car as we had headed along the coast. In my fantasy, or maybe it was the truth, I saw a Gaza that will one day be for the rich and famous, where wealth pours in, where life quality is high, while education and healthcare are exemplary. I dreamed that the young will visit, party and enjoy, unaware that many years earlier it had been a land of conflict and immeasurable human suffering.

Generations ago, Gaza was a land of riches and can be so again. Almost a century past it was a region judged to be more than promising for oil and gas. Beneath its sea lie billions of barrels of oil and trillions of cubic feet of gas. Gaza is a land of culture, of birds, of animals, of flowers and sometimes even of fashion. It is a land of history, sport, religion and, despite the chaos, it offers opportunity.

If there was ever a land with a future, if there was ever a country to watch, I would place my savings on Gaza although Islam forbids me to bet. One day, who knows, you might visit Gaza for a holiday and sun yourself on its beach.

If you do? Enjoy it, like it, love the land and its people. And yes, do not forget the sweet corn