Part I: No Dolphins for Gaza
An account of our voyage from the English Channel to Gaza.
The dolphins began jumping out of the waves abeam of us and surfing to our bow. The deck crew ran forward to meet them. Then there were dolphins all around. We could see them flying under the white caps. Then they overtook the boat from every angle and criss-crossed under the stem. In their gleeful haste, some of the crew had left their harnesses below and had to be reminded with a shout from the helm. The harnesses were passed forward, everyone clipped onto the lifelines and began taking dolphin selfies.
We were a day southbound from the chart plotter waypoint our captain had placed near Land’s End, Wales. Karen and I have been aboard since Copenhagen, helping deliver this long, 29-ton ketch to the Mediterranean. Jens is a captain; the project is too complex and risky to call him a “skipper”; his coffee cup is labeled El Capitano. We write our names on the coffee cups to save fresh water; it reduces the washing.
Gijon, Spain is our next port. In a few days, from this northern Spanish town, we’ll sail west and turn left at the shoulder, southbound again for Lisbon. Our destination is Gaza.
We sail on four-hour shifts. Karen, Devina, Kristan and I take over the driving at 1600 and our watch is relieved at 2000. We sleep most of the eight hours before our next watch at 0400, but there’s often a sail change or an hour of motor maintenance to be done. Freedom is 42 years old and its British Ford diesel has three or four ways of over-heating. Both Jens and Ferri are accomplished McGyvers and experienced diesel mechanics. They’re often on their knees reaching deep into the noisy machine as Freedom slides down the following sea in darkness.
Without steady sleep the end of the morning watch at 0800 feels like the end of the previous day. A little bread and cheese, a short nap, and we’re ready for the next hundred miles, lunch, dinner, steering.
There are 10 of us aboard. Not all of us will sail the last leg to Gaza — or more likely, the waiting arms of the IDF. Karen has done this before, in 2011, and we’ve agreed that once is enough. Devina will likely go. She’s a dedicated Swedish peace activist and a talented singer. Anna will be onboard for the last leg. She’s a force for good. She cashed in her small salary a couple of years ago and took herself to Macedonia. She began to cook for Syrian refugees. And cooked. And cooked. She’d be valuable aboard even if she hadn’t learned to steer a boat.
Youssef was born in Palestine so we’re all a little worried about the special treatment he’ll get when (or if) we’re captured. He’s also a New Zealander and holds Freedom’s current record for highest speed — 15.7 knots, surfing a following sea. I’m contesting the record. It was a GPS reading. That may not matter. Brown skin seems to be an emotional trigger for the IDF. Ferri has the same worry. He was born in Iran. Having operated trains in Sweden for many years, this is his first retirement project. He’s the Boy’s Own Annual image of a Barbary pirate. But being an Iranian, though a dissenter, may be more dangerous in an Israeli jail.
Some of the crew will be leaving in Palermo to return to their jobs and businesses in Sweden. A new crew will board. Jens will leave the ship too and I’ll take over. The last leg, while long, is pretty simple: keep Crete well on your left and head for Gaza.
The 24-hour, task-by-task cycle of moving the boat south has taken our minds off the news. We talk less about Gaza and Palestinians, know less about the daily Trump cycle, the criminal behavior of the IDF at the prison fence, the outrageous silence of our democratic leaders. It feels good. But soon we’ll be the news. We won’t be scanning for cargo ships, but for the bristling navy with fast RIBs and helicopters. There won’t be rules of collision avoidance, but rather the lawlessness of a capture at sea in international waters.
We’ll be in jail for a few days. A mild taste of the “administrative detention” that more than 40 per cent of Palestinian males — in Gaza and the West Bank — have experienced, or are experiencing now. Some of them are children. These are kids that are not putting on their lifejackets and their peaked caps. They are not climbing to the bow of a boat to see the dolphins. And even if they are among the few in Gaza who have not seen the inside of an Israeli military jail, they have not be let out of their Gaza jail. There are more than a million of them in Gaza who cannot flee Israeli attacks because the gates are shut. There are no dolphins for them.
The siege of Gaza will soon disappear, just as the bantustans of South Africa were opened, the streets of Northern Ireland were recovered from the British Army. Just as slavery was ended in the US, and the Soviets were overthrown in Europe. A few loud and unconventional voices kept shouting until they gathered a crowd, then a movement, and finally, liberation. We’re calling you. All of you.
Part II: How to run a demo in Gijon, Spain
I’ll be writing as often as our sailing schedule allows. The next port is Lisbon. We’ll reach the eastern Mediterranean in late July.
