Chapter 1

Historical Note

I kept few records of my brief sojourn in Palestine in 1989, something I regret. I recall being utterly miserable most of the time and mostly unaware of events outside of the little oasis of Salah El Din Hospital in Gaza City. Maybe I was aware and my memory is at fault?

A brief bit of research turned up the following facts:

The year before, USS Vincennes shot down an Iranian Airbus killing 290 after illegally venturing into Iranian waters. In December, a Pan Am 747 was blown out of the sky over Lockerbie killing 270. Libya was put in the frame although there are strong suggestions the real culprit was Iran.

In 1988 the Palestinians began the first Intifada against Israeli seizure of Arab land. Particularly, this involved East Jerusalem and the West Bank. The adoption of Israel's 'Basic Law' followed the 1989 seizure of 1000 acres of East Jerusalem from its Arab owners for a new 'suburb' for Jews. The impetus for this was the expected flood of Soviet Jews from the newly opened Soviet Union.

Saddam's war against Iran had stuttered to a halt and he was having a breather before invading Kuwait in 1990.

In 1983 a truck bomber killed 240 US Marines in Beirut in the first deadly suicide attack in that part of the world in the modern era. Palestinians were reluctant to follow their neighbours in such attacks until about 1993. I don't remember suicide bombing being a burning issue in 1989 except as part of the Lebanese Civil War.

Gaza City

The Gaza Strip had been captured from Egypt in the 1967 Six Day War and never handed back. In contravention of the Geneva Conventions the Knesset permitted Israeli settlements to be erected there and later sanctioned them by providing the army to protect the settlers and closing roads to ensure they moved about in security.

In the Gaza strip, we had youths injured from baton rounds, rubber bullets, tear gas and live bullets. Gaza's northern suburbs, particularly Sheik Radwan camp and Tuffah, contained many families who'd been driven from Shati camp by the Israelis. The suburbs were dirty, fetid, overcrowded and lawless. They became the focus of the Intifada, as it pertained to the City, and were no go areas for anyone unless they had an important reason for visiting there.

Southern Remal, bordering the Meditterranean, was characterised by the many European Colonial buildings. The Red Crescent headquarters was on El Nasser Street and around the corner, Al Ashar University, the UNRWA and Salah El Din Hospital. Northern Remal featured the Palestinian/American Friendship Park - then renamed just 'Palestine Park.' Most of Gaza's commercial and aid activity took place in these two suburbs.

East of Remal was the Middle class suburb of Sabra (meaning 'sabre' in both Arabic and Hebrew and the name of a cactus) The rich folks lived in Zaytoon and Sheik Ejleen suburbs to the South.

The meeting point of rich and poor in Gaza was the Old City of Mosques and Casbahs. The Old City's problem was rampant crime - car thefts, and muggings the most prevalent. In 1989 it was dangerous for the white skinned - even carrying Red Crescent credentials - and I never ventured there.

July 1989

Tel Aviv was something of an eye opener. I found my prejudices crumbling one by one. Although less than 200 kilometres to the north there was a war going on, there was little evidence of it in Israel's capital city. Taxis blared their horns and truck drivers peered sullenly from their cab windows at the constant gridlock.

Tel Aviv is a city of parks and squares and I'd arranged to meet my pal Parks in one. Parks - that was his real Christian name - was an American from Virginia and we'd met way back in Wellington, New Zealand.

Parks was a fellow student at Teacher's College and had graduated a Drama major like myself. He'd hired a helicopter for the open air graduation ceremony and lowered himself down from it at almost exactly the same time as his name was called out. Parks was a star - he was outrageous and funny - and you either loved him or loathed his need for self promotion.

Parks was also gay and came from a family of Bahais. The Bahai Faith had its world centre in Haifa in the north of Israel and Parks had wanted to make a pilgrimage there. Years later, I'd join the faith myself and discover it didn't approve of drugs, alcohol or homosexuality. None of these injunctions seemed to bother Parks overly much. I liked that - a religion where you could please yourself.

Parks loved motorcycles and had pillioned with me many times back at college. I think he liked the visibility it gave him as well as the speed rush. I'd bought the Suzuki not long after trashing my Honda into a car and it came with a 4 into 1 side system exhaust. Parks loved to hear it howl and I'd wind the bike up the clock just to watch him smile in the mirror.

Parks had gone on to teach while I'd given up in less than a year. I was shattered emotionally and decided to go back bus driving to sort myself out. After my four year marriage collapsed I was at a loose end and the drugs were starting to get on top of me once again.

Wellington City Transport was familiar as I'd worked there in the late seventies. It was like a familiar old overcoat, but, I knew in my heart that it offered other advantages. I knew how to tap the till for cash for my habit.

Users formed a small, tight knit, subset within the staff and I knew practically all of them. Most were dope smokers, but, smack wasn't hard to find and I scored within a day.

Politics had lain dormant in my life since the Vietnam War, but, being a worker once again renewed my interest. There was a vacancy for Vice President of the Union and I ran unopposed. The next year the President resigned and I ended up running the show.

At the same time I hooked up with the Socialist Action League again. At the time they were the local branch of the Trotskyist Fourth International - a kind of alternative to Soviet style Communism. It was through them that I, once again, set forth to save the world.

The 'radical Left' in those days had a network of sympathisers throughout a range of leftist and liberal organisations. Its association with the Cuban Friendship Society was why I'd found myself in Sandanista Nicaragua during March 1983.

But, the SAL thought I'd be just perfect for a gig in Palestine. In fact, I was the third person our branch secretary asked and the only one to say yes.

David S led an aid agency with strong links to the International Red Cross. He was also a firm friend of the SAL. The Red Cross signalled a need to equip ambulances in the Gaza Strip with two way radios - before the mobile phone overtook the technology. A local manufacturer had agreed to donate the sets if they could find someone to install them.

"But I've two left hands," I insisted. "I've a well known technical incompetence."

"Then you need training," David told me in that offhand manner that really aggravated. 'There were no such things as problems, only challenges' - a mantra I'd grown to despise. That training had already been organised - with Telecom Radio, as the manufacturer was based in Christchurch.

I had several personal problems to overcome, however, before I could travel to the Middle East. Not the least of the issues was my addiction. No way was I going to kick again on an aeroplane. That experience was worse than miserable. Imagine being nauseous and in pain 35000 feet up in the sky? Neither did I want to try and sneak gear through customs. None of the countries I was passing through struck me as a good place to spend time in prison. Neither, I'd imagine, would the IRC be too impressed to have one of their aid workers busted for drugs in 'Shitholeistan.'

All this seemed a lifetime away as I met Parks in a square in Tel Aviv. He told me he wanted to watch the football game that night. Hanoun Tel Aviv were playing Haifa and he was conflicted. Should he back the locals or follow his heart - the spiritual centre of the Faith?

Such trivia was far from my mind as I was beginning to seriously hang out. It's funny, but I don't remember wanting to load up all the way over. Now, though, as we had a few days to kill, I wanted to get high. I'd never told Parks of my problem - I was never certain which way he'd react. There'd been few people I could ever confide in and they were mostly users themselves. It suited me as we helped each other out.

I had the 'constant creeps' as I called it. I was strung out and couldn't stop rubbing my arms. When I see that gesture today I know exactly what it means and feel bizarrely smug. But, then it was no joke and I felt withdrawn and alone. I was too scared to try and score. To me, every dealer was a potential undercover cop or informant. I had to sweat it out.

Israeli girls are honeys. I found them independently minded, open and easy to talk to. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a mood to flirt. Parks was a social bunny and would've little trouble with the ladies if he'd been straight. Nevertheless he introduced me to a law student he'd chatted to as he waited for me.

Judith was a stunner in all ways one could imagine - smart, beautiful with an amazing personality. I was simply not in the game. There are more cafes per square kilometre in Tel Aviv as I've seen anywhere and we all fetched up there to talk. Judith and Parks talked about his Bahai Faith.

"Are you Bahai as well?" she turned to me. Her voice was like music - very precise and well articulated English.

"No," I shook my head.

"Christian?"

It was a harmless question - just someone interested in the stories of a couple of strangers from far away. But, in my state, it seemed like a set up.

Something inherrent in my personality, however, made me want to confront, come what may. Perhaps I secretly wanted to be arrested on the spot to prove how intolerant Israeli society was just below the surface? Didn't they have Mossad and Shin Bet who disposed of their enemies efficiently, extraterritorially, and extrajudiciously?

"No," I answered, "I'm a Communist."

"Ah!" she replied, not batting an eyelid. "You know how they treat Jews in the Soviet Union?"

"Yes, I know," I answered, "but I'm not pro Soviet. I guess you could say I'm Trotskyist."

"Oh," she smiled, "he was a Jew, you know!"

Yes I did know. That fact seemed to have Judith's approval. She knew her history and was aware Trotsky was assassinated by Soviet agents. Did she know Trotsky had not only renounced his faith but also religion in general? Didn't matter to Judith. Trotsky was born Jewish and a Jew was always a Jew.

Later, she asked me why I wanted to go the Gaza Strip and I explained about the ambulances with no radios. "But," she insisted, "they will only use them to organise attacks against the army."

Here was the attitude I expected all along - honed over the 40 years of the Israeli State. But, there was little rancour from Judith - it was as though she was merely stating a fact and I ought to be aware of it. I was in no mood to argue, however, and merely shrugged.

But, as an outsider, who was I to judge? Had I a family member serving in Gaza or the West Bank? Had I knew someone killed in the conflict? It was easy to point the finger from far away. Judith made me feel uncomfortable because she subconciously pointed out my own prejudice. But, this was no place to pick a fight and I lapsed into silence. There are always two sides in a war and no-one has a monopoly on morality. To pick a side means having to dismiss the thought that your enemies have families, lives, and hopes for the future.

Armed revolution was always something we knew was going to happen - Karl Marx had said it would - but, not something we'd ever dealt with inside the party. The core of the SAL were ex student intellectuals - theorists and polemicists - not fighters. No-one, in my experience, had ever so much as fired a gun let alone possessed one. This was one of the more absurd situations that intrigued me. I was never a good Commie and would've gladly surrendered after the first shot - or preferably before.

But, I think, the idea of conspiracy and subversion was exciting to me. I stood my ground on many a picket - performed my class duty - and tried to sell books to an uninterested public below a red banner. But, as the 70s rolled on into the 80s that public's attitude turned from apprehension to derision. No, the revolution wasn't going to happen in New Zealand any time soon and I felt relegated to the status of some weird religious cult - about as dangerous as the Hari Krishnas. Even the Security Intelligence Service had lost interest in us. It was utterly humiliating.