Gazans are crazy about the Super Eagles. They sway and float with the fortunes of the team. Many Gazan men can reel off the names of the national team players from as far back as the 1994 World Cup. I felt a little flushed when the border guards who were busy trying to deny me entry into the strip a couple of weeks ago were naming the current Eagles players and their clubs.
I love strolling through the streets of Gaza. It may sound crazy to read that out loud. Who loves wandering around in a war zone? A place where the sea dances to the sounds of bombings and gunfire. A long strip with a cloud of fear hanging over it. But, then you’ve not seen the angelic smile of a kid whose last meal may have been the day before. Or tasted some of the most delicious humus and falafel in a corner kiosk deep inside a refugee camp. Or watched the sun dip behind the Mediterranean as it sets.
Gaza has a unique identity, a spirit that refuses to be broken. Wedged against the Mediterranean seas, blocked in by Israel for security reasons and closed in by Egypt for very complex reasons that leaves the Palestinians trapped in this tiny parcel of land, scratching their heads about where Arab brotherhood has gone.
The politics is confusing sometimes. On the outside, you think the problem only stems from the north where Israel is. But, don’t get these folks started about Egypt or Jordan, fellow Arab states that have probably been less giving than the famed enemy north.
Despite it all, I’m yet to find a Gazan who’s not proud to be Palestinian. Their flags hang on rooftops and on television sets. If given a ladder to a safe rooftop, I bet they will all shout their Palestinian pride to the world. But, don’t confuse a Gazan with Palestinians from the West Bank or Ramallah. They love their freer kin up north but they always remind you they are Gazans, like a special branch on a tree.
Gaza teaches you big lessons as a Nigerian. Once, a Palestinian complained to me about how the occupation and conflict with Israel has reduced their power supply to four hours a day. I wanted to tell him that in some parts of Nigeria, people will break out in celebratory dance for four hours of electricity a day.
In the midst of the poverty and war are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Folks who just want to live in peace and raise their kids knowing they will have a chance to live a normal life. It is because of some of these folks that I first visited Gaza. I came for a movie about some of the bravest and most forgiving people on the face of the earth. This city of almost two million people plants itself in your heart. Many people call it a prison. But, others call it aljahaim. In English, that means hell. And, it is.
I met a man who took a few minutes stroll away from his house and returned to find half his family blown away. I met a girl who told me about the dozen shrapnel in her head. Sometimes you want to cry. But, tears don’t help. So, you grab a tiny cup of tea, sit around the fire and listen to the soulful music of some of the most creative youth you’ll ever see. Sometimes, they sing songs of pain but there’s a ton of hope in those voices and lyrics. The voices fill you with images of heaven.
Gaza teaches you big lessons as a Nigerian. Once, a Palestinian complained to me about how the occupation and conflict with Israel has reduced their power supply to four hours a day. I wanted to tell him that in some parts of Nigeria, people will break out in celebratory dance for four hours of electricity a day. But, I held my peace. How do you tell someone in bondage that Africa’s largest country, a land flowing with petro dollars lives in darkness?
In the first few hours of my first trip to Gaza, people didn’t know what to make of me. You feel eyes on you. Am I one of the hated Americans or the barely tolerable British? My accent didn’t help either. At best it’s like a raspy rumble bouncing through a tunnel. But, when the folks realise your roots are Nigerian, they open up their hearts to you. The reason is surprisingly simple. The Super Eagles, Nigeria’s perennial heartache, are the darlings of Gazans.
Ironically, a few hundred yards across the border, I know a few Israelis who were also as passionate as Gazans about the Eagles. It struck me that if there had not been a need for the walls, Palestinians and Israelis in these border towns will have fun watching the Super Eagles in a sports bar.
Gazans are crazy about the Super Eagles. They sway and float with the fortunes of the team. Many Gazan men can reel off the names of the national team players from as far back as the 1994 World Cup. I felt a little flushed when the border guards who were busy trying to deny me entry into the strip a couple of weeks ago were naming the current Eagles players and their clubs. I couldn’t compete. I only know Nigeria has a first choice goalkeeper who is second choice at a Spanish second division club.
When the Eagles play, they stay up, watch and cheer. The only time their loyalty is spilt is when the Eagles play Argentina in the world cup. You can’t compete with Messi or Maradona. But, it comes close here.
Ironically, a few hundred yards across the border, I know a few Israelis who were also as passionate as Gazans about the Eagles. It struck me that if there had not been a need for the walls, Palestinians and Israelis in these border towns will have fun watching the Super Eagles in a sports bar.
It’s crazy how things are better in the past than today. In 1994 when the Eagles were kicking off their world cup campaign, some of these Gazans watched the game with their Israeli friends across the border. Back then they were brothers and fans. The only fear they had was fire in the barbecue pit running out.
Ose is on twitter at iam_ose
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