Re-entry is slow and painful

Almost one week has passed since my return to Doylestown in suburban Philadelphia. My journey in Gaza seems as though it happened months ago; an hour ago and anything in between. Thankfully the inter net keeps me in touch with my fellow travelers, it also makes the sharing of photos an instant reality.

We were shown her serious burns
caused by white phosphorous.
Were we intruding?
My own photographs number few. I was shocked to find I'd captured and documented so few memories with my camera. Usually I am consistently clicking away but not this time. My experience in Gaza was painful. Many times I felt I was intruding into the private space of people's lives, homes and experience. Their stories were captured and embedded in my brain and heart. Photos can fade or be misplaced, the Gazan memories will stay with me forever.

Many years ago Ken, my then companion and now husband, and I traveled to California, on my . first "adult vacation." I fell in love with San Francisco and Berkley, where he was attending a conference. We traveled Route 1 down the coast, which was amazing. My photo album is full of memories and sights seen. The most treasured memory is not recorded on film.

We spent time with my cousin Janie, her husband, Peter and their son, Benjamin, who was about two. I'd met Janie only a few times in my life. Their home was back the Palo Colorado Canyon; with a generator providing electricity and a composting out house with a view of the Pacific. It was Jamie's birthday and we'd purchased a cake and candles to celebrate. After dinner we sat around the table in candle light. When the cake appeared, candles aglow, Benjamin stretched his arms across the table toward his mother, his little fingers dancing and reaching. Janie stretched her fingers towards him....and my first thought was grab my camera, take a picture. When I looked at their faces, glowing with love and candlelight I realized the experience was too personal and intimate for the intrusion of my camera.

Thinking atop the ruins of his home
I did not want to intrude while in Gaza, although I guess our very presence was an intrusion. I just did not feel worthy of invading space that was so personal. How do you walk through some one's tent just to get from A to B more quickly? I couldn't, I walked around the outside of the tent. People were so anxious to tell their stories they allowed us great privileges in hopes we'd see, believe and tell the world. They trusted us and hopefully we will not let them down.

The scenes in Gaza, destruction, homes, tents, people etc were captured in photos by many of my fellow travelers. They've have taken fantastic photos and I hope to post some on this blog when I figure out how to upload/download; it's frustrating to be so computer illiterate.