We were at Palestinian Rafah, having just chased our last story, when the call came in that Israel might be attacking the border within an hour.
We had heard such rumours before, but this one seemed more serious because of several reasons. One was that we had seen an Israeli plane on a reconnaissance flight overhead when visiting an orphanage earlier in the day. Another was that several foreign journalists had left the night before, warning us that there might be further attacks. Most importantly though, was that the ceasefire had ended and all bets were off.
So, we hightailed it out of there and headed for the border crossing immediately instead of leaving later in the day as we had planned to earlier.
All the way to the border checkpoint, things were different than they had been before. The people around us seemed more frenetic, more stressed and more worried than at any point in the past few days. At the border, people were thronging the locked gates and we had to jostle our way to the front to be allowed through. At the end, though the expected attack didn't materialise, it was a stark reminder of the knife edge upon which these people's lives are poised and how, no matter how normal things seem, chaos and mayhem is only one air raid away.
We are now sitting in the most expensive bus in the world (check out my earlier posting if you don't know what i mean), waiting for it to rumble into life and bring us back to Egypt. The group is quiet and pensive. The two girls from TV3 are sitting at the back, their eyes welling up with tears. It goes without saying that this trip has affected all of us profoundly. My eyes are dry but my heart is heavy. Personally and professionally, this place has stolen a little piece of my heart.
Professionally, the pain, the destruction and the suffering I have seen here has made me realise how important the media is as a guardian of liberty. Without the intervention of the international press corps, the world would not have known the truth of what happened here.
There are so many stories still to be told, so many voices still begging to be heard and so many tragedies that need to be recounted. I have not had enough time here and can only hope that I have done a little good with the few stories I have told.
Personally, the rugged beauty of this land, reflected in its noble people, has left an indelible impression on me. I'm still amazed at their tenacious will to live, their refusal to accept defeat and their faith in God which allows them to accept all the trials and tribulations which come their way.
We took the coastal road on our way back to Rafah today. As I watched the beautiful waves, crested with foamy white plumes, of the Mediterranean, I couldn't help thinking how much like the sea these people are.
They are beautiful, majestic and mesmerising, but never to be underestimated because they're fortified with a wellspring of strength, a stubborn implacability and a wild streak which will, I feel, never be truly tamed no matter how many times they are beaten, battered or bloodied.
I pray that God brings peace to this land and the people that inhabit it. I pray that friendship and brotherhood replace the hatred and enmity that envelops this land of milk and honey.
Most of all, i pray that the killing stops.
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