welcome to gaza

Thursday night and the work week is over. I'm sitting in the apartment in Gaza. After a dinner of pita, hummous and plums I'm here on the computer. I'm not allowed to venture out more than a few blocks from the apartment alone.

So I sit and I listen to the constant beeping of the cars that drive past, a beeping that is almost melodious. I hear a minor accident and major shouting, after a minute or so everybody gets back in their cars and drives off. I hear the muezzin call the faithful to prayer, once, twice. I hear the wedding music played in the back of open trucks as they drive past.

I see the sun dipping behind the sea, turning the sky saffron, crimson and lavender. I see small boats with blue lights slowly make their way from the shore and line themselves up in the distance. I see a group of women walk past with a variety of headscarves but all in dark flowing buibui dresses. I see three Hamas guards hanging out casually on the street corner, and six firemen hanging out across the road at the fire station.

I smell wafts of the raw sewage that pours into the sea. I smell jasmine and other flowers I haven't yet learned the names of. I smell incense and apple shisha.