Elliott D. Woods, for the Pulitzer Center
Elliott Woods traveled to Gaza on a Pulitzer Center grant
Fishing boats at anchor in Gaza's lone protected harbor, on the Mediterranean coast beside southern Gaza City. — Elliott D. Woods
Gaza City — The Gaza Strip boasts a beautiful stretch of Mediterranean coast line, and the breeze down by the water is oddly warm for this time of year. In the southern part of Gaza City, a wandering foreigner starved for bow-tie clad waiters and sleek décor will be pleased to find a string of nearly-luxury hotels with sun-splashed terraces and stunning views nestled against a long stretch of haphazardly stacked concrete tenements — otherwise known as Beach Camp, one of Gaza's many permanent refugee communities. When I know I'll be in the area, I like to bring a book and sit for a couple of hours reading in the sun, listening to the surf and the fishermen, smoking shisha. That's exactly what I planned to do this afternoon. But the Israeli military had other plans.
I shouldn't have been surprised. Last night Apache helicopters thumped back and forth above my neighborhood for almost two hours, doing god knows what. This morning, F-16s were all over the place. By the time I got settled with my new book and my shisha, nary a second passed without the "voice" of the F-16 drowning out the waves. Gazan English speakers frequently use the word "voice" as a synonym for "sound." It's always the "voice" of the drone, the "voice" of the helicopter, the "voice" of the bomb. Today, the sky was full of menacing "voices."

Recent Comments