Gaza

“I’m not sure what the guy’s problem is, but he’s pointing an AK-47 assault rifle at me, so I don’t make a fuss…”

What stands before me is a scene of utter desolation: the chalk remains of roads, buildings and farmland, bombed and bulldozed beyond any recognition… Read the rest of this article here.

On the Palestine Papers

A few years ago, a friend and I were discussing conspiracy theories. We both dismissed the vast majority of them out of hand. But I was willing to entertain the remote possibility that Diana, Princess of Wales, might have been assassinated by British intelligence officers.

I don’t for a second believe that she was murdered. I was merely acknowledging that this far-fetched plot, unlike the moon landings, or 9/11, would at least have had a coherent motive and required the complicity (and subsequent silence) of a managably small number of conspirators. Read the rest of this entry »

Document sets out the minimum calorie intake required by Gaza’s 1.5m population, according to their age and sex*

On Monday, the BBC published a full list of goods permitted into Gaza, under the Kafkaesque terms of the Israeli blockade. The contents of that list had long been the subject of exasperated conjecture for both humanitarian organisations and commercial importers. (Some of the proscribed items include jam, chocolate, wood, fruit juice, textiles, and plastic toys.)

Yesterday, I received this email from Eoin Murray of Trócaire (who kindly helped arrange my visit to the besieged city in the summer of 2008.) He wrote: Read the rest of this entry »

“I’M NOT SURE WHAT THIS GUY’S PROBLEM IS, BUT HE’S POINTING AN AK-47 ASSAULT RIFLE AT ME, SO I PREFER NOT TO MAKE A FUSS…”

What stands before me is a scene of utter desolation: the chalk remains of roads, buildings and farmland, bombed and bulldozed beyond any recognition… Read the rest of this article here.

MISCELLANEOUS AMUSING ITEMS I’VE COME ACROSS#4

Came across this when I visited here.

Published: Irish Times, October 11th 2008.

24 HOURS IN GAZA

When I reach the end of the cool, dimly-lit corridor, I set my bags down on the ground and call out, quietly at first, but then at the top of my voice. “Hello… HELLO!?” The words echo around the spacious hangar. Eventually, a small trapdoor in the concrete opens, and a toothless man in a luminous vest beckons me through. I place my luggage on the trolley and we walk in silence down another winding gangway, until I emerge, blinking, into the dazzling sunlight.
Read the rest of this entry »