Middle East A Land That History Forgot

By Johanna McGeary/Gaza

On the road that leads to Gaza, a gaudily lettered arch greets travelers with the word WELCOME. But the sights hardly beckon. Watchful Israeli soldiers stand guard as men in gallabiyas ply the road on two-wheeled donkey carts and women in white gauze veils trail their robes through the dust. Melons are sold amid reeking garbage. Rusting wreckage litters the roadsides. The stench of rot and waste is unescapable. Gaza looks like what it is: the last refuge of the dispossessed.

Gaza has never been anything but occupied territory, in thrall for 500 years to the Ottoman Empire, then to Britain, then Egypt, now Israel. Approximately 28 miles long and five miles wide, Gaza teems with more than 600,000 Palestinians, nearly all of whom fare worse than their 800,000 brethren in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Wedged between Egypt and Israel, Gaza nonetheless appeared to harbor little of the rebellious anger that seethes in the Palestinian towns in the West Bank. But that is changing. Violent anti-Israel protests have rocked the territory over the past two months. Eight Palestinians, including a 17-year-old schoolgirl, and one government security agent have been killed. The smell of burning tires and gunpowder now mingles with the stink of sewage.

After occupying Gaza in 1967, Israel gradually claimed one-third of the strip as "state land" and built 18 Israeli settlements for about 2,200 Jews. Life is far more cramped for Gaza's Palestinians: some 5,440 people occupy each square mile, a density that approaches Hong Kong's. The Jews inhabit a beach-front enclave that is fast growing into an Israeli Riviera. But more than 60% of Gaza's Arabs are refugees, most of whom live in squalid United Nations camps built 40 years ago. In the camp of Nuseirat, Sabha, a 50-year- old woman, finds only despair. "There is no way of getting out of this muddy life unless a miracle occurs," she said. "But the time of miracles has gone."

Most Gazans must earn their meager daily bread in Israel. Some 50,000 jam the 44-mile route to Tel Aviv each dawn to sweep streets and haul garbage and build houses. By supplying Israel with cheap labor, Gaza has virtually eliminated unemployment. Even so, Palestinians deeply resent the forced dependence. "We are enslaved," says Rashad Shawwa, 79, mayor of Gaza, who was twice removed from office by Israeli officials. "We have become the servants of Israel."

Israel strictly controls Gaza's commerce, including its primary crops of oranges, lemons and limes, to ensure that the occupied land does not compete with Israel. For security reasons, Israel has limited Gaza's second major industry, fishing, to a narrow slice of the Mediterranean. The result is a retarded economy, with little prospect for growth. Brigadier General Shai Eres, who until last month headed Gaza's civil administration, admits that the shackled economy severely limits the region's prospects. Says Eres: "Of course, there is no independence possible for this area."

In fact, no one wants Gaza. In its 19 years as overlord, Egypt did little but use the strip as a free port and cheap vacation spot for its soldiers. Today Cairo turns its back on Gaza by maintaining a barbed-wire border that Palestinians are not allowed to cross. Though some Gazans look to Jordan for guidance, King Hussein feels little responsibility for the territory. While West Bank Palestinians hold Jordanian passports, the nationality of Gazans is officially "undefined" on the travel documents they must obtain from Israel. Gaza has become such an afterthought that it is rarely mentioned in discussions about a Palestinian homeland. Fatah, the main P.L.O. group, has contributed little money or moral support to the territory.

Israel claims it has done more than any other occupier to improve the quality of life in Gaza. That is relatively true: cars abound, hospitals and clinics dot the landscape, even the camps have telephones and washing machines. But parts of Gaza City, the strip's largest population center, have water only twice a week in the summer, and sewage frequently floods the drinking supply. What are Israel's ultimate plans for Gaza? Admits General Eres: "That is the $64,000 question."

Nor do the Gazans know how to help themselves. Shawwa, their nominal leader, has been described by one Israeli official as a "commander without soldiers." He can summon little political clout and no armed support. To talk to educated Gazans is to hear a litany of helplessness. "We lack leaders," sighs Farouq Abu Sharq, a self-employed furniture maker. "So what can we do?"

Increasingly, they seem to be turning to Islamic fundamentalism. More than anywhere else in the Palestinian world, Gaza is subscribing to the fanatical message of zealots like Sheik Abdul al-Aziz Odeh, allegedly the guiding light behind a local group called Islamic Jihad, and Sheik Ahmad Yasin, the spiritual leader of the Islamic movement in Gaza since 1977. "We have to start changing things by hearts," warns Yasin, 51, who has been paralyzed from the neck down since age 15. "Then by words and then the role of the hand comes." At least two of four Gazans killed in a shoot-out with Israeli security forces last month have been identified as members of the Islamic Jihad, which is becoming the chief fomenter of violence in Gaza. Though Israeli officials tend to link Gaza's radicals to the P.L.O., the militants appear to be motivated as much by religious fervor as by politics -- a development that could prove extremely troublesome for Jerusalem.

For all their travails, the Gazans are intent on remaining where they are. Yet sometimes every day under Israeli occupation seems a curse that can test even the strongest faith. "Often I wonder whether God exists or not," says Fatima, 20, a refugee who lives in Nuseirat. "What did we do to be punished in such a way?"