Coming to America

By Mohammed Omer

“The gate will be open tomorrow”—these words
spread like wildfire through the crowd of trapped
Palestinians and visitors waiting to cross out of
Gaza Strip into Egypt, and visa-versa. Would
Israel withdraw yet again the promise of hope
it dangled before me and [thousands? hundreds? of] families,
individuals and businessmen waiting to be let out of our iron
cage called Gaza? Many literally have spent weeks here at the
border, without facilities, food, water or a place to sleep. Quietly
I push my way toward the exit with the crowd. By three
o’clock it is confirmed: for the first time in over a month,
the border is open—but for just four hours.

Grabbing my bags—packed for my trip to the U.S.
with my camera, clothes and whatever else I could
carry in two hands—I melted into the crowd rushing
like a torrent toward the border and freedom in Egypt
beyond. Israel refused to allow me to travel to Jerusalem
to obtain my U.S. visa, so the next closest U.S. embassy
that wouldn’t require traveling through Israeli territory
was in Cairo. A rush to the border, sandwiched between
hundreds, heads bobbing up and down trying to see and
breathe, dust swirling and caking on my skin mixed
with sweat, bags bouncing off people in front of and
behind me—this is how my speaking tour of
America began.

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