Gaza fishermen dream of freedom on high seas after Israel’s withdrawal

GAZA CITY — The fishermen of Gaza believe that Allah has put them to work in the only place in the world where the Mediterranean suffocates rather than gives a sense of freedom.
But as the days of Israel’s 38-year rule draw to a close, they are hoping to take to the high seas once more.

For the past 35 years, Jamal Amudi has lived in Gaza City’s chaotic but colourful port. He first learned to fish with his uncle, and afterwards, with his father. Today he is still fishing — with his four sons.

Like all the fishermen in this teeming city, his small boat is only allowed to go out 11 kilometres from the coast, a limit imposed by the Israeli army.

“Since the start of the Intifada [the Palestinian uprising in September 2000], we feel like we have been prisoners of the Israelis. There have been some very difficult months when we were even prevented from leaving the port,” sighs Amudi as he sits on the floor repairing nets, amid a group of companions.

Everyone has a story about a run-in with the Israelis. Some have even spent days in prison for the “crime” of fishing beyond the Israeli-imposed limits — just so they can bring home food for the children.

“Sometimes they just watch us fishing and leave us alone, others splash us, steal our fish or make us turn back before we’ve finished working,” says Darwish Asi, another fisherman.

The historic departure of Gaza’s 8,000 Jewish settlers earlier this month, however, has kindled hope that they may soon be able to “reconquer the sea” after five bitter years of Israeli restrictions.

Even Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas has raised expectations by promising that soon they will be able to fish “in all the Palestinian waters.”

By 10:00am, most of the fishermen have already returned to the port, where rickety wooden sailboats bump noses with dozens of other battered vessels and several rusting wrecks, none of which look even vaguely sea-worthy.

In spite of everything, Gaza’s coastline still retains a certain splendour as the sun glints off the irridescent blue of the Mediterranean and a light breeze ruffles the countless Palestinian flags that line mile after mile of deserted sandy beaches.

Meanwhile, the fisherman dream on about one day casting out their nets in the seas of southern Gaza near Rafah where no one has even dipped a toe in the water since the start of the Intifada, their access to the sea completely blocked by the settlements.

“If the Israelis leave, we can fish a lot more. It is our right,” insists Amudi. “At the moment, our families are living on a salary of a thousand shekels [$220] a month.”

But most of these weather-beaten fishermen remain sceptical that Israel’s hawkish prime minister, Ariel Sharon, will ever relinquish Israel’s grip on the land, sea and airspace around the Gaza Strip.

“If they stay in our sea, it will be as if they never left the settlements,” says Atef Bakr. “Nothing will change for us.”

Tempers rise as they think back to images of the Israeli withdrawal which were broadcast across the globe, in which hundreds of Jewish settlers were seen sobbing in the arms of those evacuating them from their pristine bungalows and villas.

“It was all one big show, a manoeuvre by the Israeli government to present themselves to the world as victims. No one bothered to look at how we have suffered, how Israel has stopped us from living for years,” fumes Asi.

Despite the poverty and the lack of freedom to work, not one of these men has contemplated changing their profession. For them, resistance means getting up every day at dawn to fish the sea.

“I don’t know anything else other than casting out my nets. My grandson wants To go to school but I tell him: to be a good fisherman, you don’t need to study,” says Jamal, causing his companions to collapse in gales of laughter.