Thanksgiving from the Gaza Strip

Husein Mashni

There was no Turkey or dressing. No beautiful colors of fall or

special holiday programs on television to remind me that it was

Thanksgiving. In fact, here in Gaza, where I’ve lived for the past

two years, most people have never even heard of Thanksgiving.

In fact, even though Thanksgiving is one of my two favorite

holidays -- the other being Easter -- I was oblivious that we were

coming up on the fourth Thursday of November.

And, I suppose, in a way, all these factors combined to make this

the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.

Weeks before, I had spent some time down in one of the most

impoverished parts of the Gaza Strip with some friends of mine.

Gassan and Abed are two brothers who have a special love for deaf

people. Together with one of the prominent deaf men in their city,

Mohammed, they started a club for the deaf.

They rented three floors of a cinder block house. They turned one

floor into a work space with sewing machines where some of the deaf

make money. On another floor, they have their office and a classroom

where they teach Palestinian sign language and other classes to the

deaf.

Proudly on display are the pottery, needlework and other art

projects made by their students. On the top floor, they have a pool

table and a ping pong table.

Almost every Thursday, I go down to their city and spend a night

at the center. Their city, which will remain unnamed, is always in

the news, as there are almost daily shootings and home demolitions

there.

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, some friends from a church in

Cyprus sent some money to help some of “poor folks” in the Gaza

Strip.

I talked it over with my friends at the center, and we agreed that

a great thing to do for the deaf would be to spend a day in Gaza

City. They rarely get to leave their city. And even though their own

city is by the sea, due to security concerns, the beaches have been

closed to the public for years.

So a trip to Gaza City, where they could visit the beaches, parks

and have lunch with us seemed like a great way to spend a day

together.

My friends in Gaza City were equally excited about helping to make

this a special day for the deaf.

Gassan, Abed and Mohammed gathered around 60 of the more than a

hundred members of their club. We rented a bus and brought them up to

Gaza City, a 12-mile trip, which depending on road blocks can take up

to 12 hours. A week earlier, I spent five hours at the checkpoint

which splits the southern and central parts of the Gaza Strip.

But thank God, there were no road blocks that day.

The first place we took the group was to the Malahi (which is the

Amusement Park) in Gaza City.

It’s not Six Flags or Disneyland. The most daring ride is a

rusting, smaller than usual Ferris wheel. But that didn’t make it any

less fun.

There is also a kiddie train, with an obnoxiously loud whistle

running on a track that encompasses the small park. There were a few

other standards, like a merry-go-round, twirling cups, and a (made in

Colorado) rocket, which lurches up and down and sideways to create

the illusion of space travel.

After a few hours, we left the Malahi for a large hall we had

rented for lunch. The beautiful view of the Mediterranean Sea a few

feet away added to these few special moments we had together.

We ate a traditional Arabic meal of rice and lamb meat. For

dessert, instead of pumpkin pie, we had baklava.

Afterward, we played some familiar games that were customized for

the deaf. Neither I nor my friends in Gaza City know sign language,

but somehow, we seemed to be able to communicate anyway.

As the deaf got back on the bus to go back home, one of the boys,

who isn’t deaf, said to me, “We’ll see you next Thursday.”

That was the first time I realized that it was Thursday. After a

few minutes I realized that it wasn’t just any Thursday. It was the

Fourth Thursday of November. It was Thanksgiving.

Had I known it was Thanksgiving, I would have planned a day

exactly like this day turned out to be. But I didn’t know and it

turned out exactly the way I would have wanted it to anyways.

Thanks be to God.

* HUSEIN MASHNI is a former Daily Pilot education reporter, who is

now living as a missionary in the Gaza Strip. He periodically writes

correspondence for the Forum pages.