MIDEAST PERSONAL ATTENTION TO CORPORATE GIFT SOLUTIONS Images In The Gaza Strip: 'Dying To Maintain Some Control LISA HOSTEIN Special to The Jewish News F JULES R. SCHUBOT CORPORATE DIVISION 3001 W. Big Beaver Road, Suite 123 • Troy MI 48084 3 1 3 - 6 4 9 - 1 1 1 1 ■ 11111111!, SUIT SPECIAL up to 40% OFF (previous layaways & sales excluded) MARGUERITE'S La Mirage Mall Northwestern Hwy. 355.3388 • •••••••••••••••••••••‘•••••••• Film to Video Transfer • • • • Transfer Movies 8mm-16mm to VHS or Beta • • 401-600 FEET $39.00 • ' • • 1-200 FEET $20.00 • • 201400 FEET $26.00 • 601-800 FEET $52.00 • 4.- . - .., • 801-1000 FEET $65.00 • ■ Film over 1,000 feet add 6c a foot. Tape $8.00 Additiona( • •CEN-TuRs • GAMER/A\ 4-- • • 3017 N. Woodward • (3 Blks. South of 13 Mile) • • r .‘ n Roal Oak Daily & Sa t . 10-6, Fri. 10-8: • 288-5444 • BUY—SELL—TRADE a • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • AU. AILANN West Bloomfield On The Boardwalk Orchard Lake Road South Maple 626-3362 Birmingham NEW LOCATION! 136 N. Woodward North of Maple 647-0550 SPORT CONNECTION 6895 Orchard Lk. Rd. South of Maple 626-2117 Southfield "The Original" New Orleans Mall 10 Mile & Greenfield 559-7818 SPORT CONNECTION New Orleans Mall 10 Mile & Greenfield 559-7150 Dearborn 15219 Mich. Ave. One Block East of Greenfield 584-3820 SPORT CONNECTION 15219 Mich. Ave. 1 Bk. E. of Greenfield 584-3820 NO PIPE DREAM! • • • • Commercial and Residential Repairs New Construction Small Scale Excavating Storm Sewer Connections Licensed Plumbers With Over A Decade Of Experience! 10% Senior Discount MONSON PLUMBING COMPANY, INC. Farmington Hills 110 FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1990 553-4449 rom the interior of a stone-proof military jeep, the streets of Gaza take on a whole new meaning. No longer do they conjure up just images of rioting children confronting well-equipped soldiers. Those are the images seared into memory from television clips or daily wire reports. From the inside of a bounc- ing jeep, as it makes its way past villages, fertile fields and overcrowded refugee camps, the situation on the ground becomes real, at times even surreal. And so do the people who find them- selves in the middle of it — the Israeli soldiers, the Pa- lestinian children, the Arab refugees, the workers as their convoys of cars pass through the checkpoints on their way to work in Israel. The image that jumps right out are the children, the way they run for cover at first sight of an army vehicle on patrol, making its way down the dirt road that leads through their village. A moment's hesitation — maybe he's deciding whether or not to scoop up stones and take aim —and a young child, perhaps five years old, grabs his sister and scurries toward the closest alley. He is convinced —perhaps by brainwashing, perhaps from experience that an Israeli jeep signifies danger. At the same time, a diff- erent kind of fear, a by now innate one, signals the commanding officer of a field unit to instruct his passen- gers to flip up the shatter- proof windows to protect themselves from those little children, the same children who, on more violent days, have succeeded in inflicting severe wounds. In this largely refugee society where more than 70 percent of the 650,000 in- habitants ay under the age of 30, the children have been the vanguard of the intifada, the uprising that erupted on these very streets nearly three years ago. On a dry and hot summer day last month, and on most days in recent months —un- til Iraq precipitated the Lisa Hostein is a writer for the Jewish Exponent in Philadelphia. latest crisis to grip the Mid- dle East —the children, as well as their parents and grandparents, seem to be in a more subdued mood. Children in the Jabalaya refugee camp still taunt Israeli soldiers perched on the hillside above the camp with shouts of "Maniac!" and "You're not a soldier, you're a woman!" But the older Palestinians, out doing their shopping at the few shops not closed by the daily afternoon strikes, just eye the military vehicles as they descend down a main street in Gaza City. One older woman, dressed in a long blue peasant smock with a white rag protecting her head from the searing heat, even waves as she fights with a sabra bush, struggling to knock the fruit to the ground. Since the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait last month, Pales- tinian popular support, displayed in marches and rallies, has favored Saddam Hussein. Despite this visible sup- port, the territories have remained relatively quiet, and Israeli officials offer varying explanations for this improved state of affairs that has pervaded the area over the past three months. Some attribute it to new army policies meant to reduce tensions. Others say it results from a sequence of events that have otherwise occupied the local popula- tion: a two-week curfew that blanketed the area after the May massacre of seven Pa- lestinians by a deranged Jewish man in Rishon Le- zion; the ensuing need of the inhabitants to recoup econ- omic losses incurred during the curfew; the world soccer championships that engaged the attention of local residents; school exams for the youth. But these events have come and gone, and still the relative calm prevails. Au- thorities note repeatedly with a mixed sense of pride and relief that not one Pales- tinian has been killed by Israeli soldiers in Gaza since the beginning of June. The policy change, in- stituted under Defense Min- ister Moshe Arens, limits the patrols on the streets and avoids population centers as much as possible, in order to avoid provoca- tion. "There is no unnecessary driving around," according to IDF spokesman Michel (soldiers are instructed not to give their last names to reporters). "We have to show our presence, but there's no reason to show it too much." Indeed, traveling from the Erez checkpoint, at the en- trance to the Gaza Strip, toward Gaza City, the spokesman drives a cir- cuitous route, avoiding the main streets as much as possible. "We have to balance bet- ween letting them live their lives and maintaining con- trol," Michel said. Also, according to Michel, the soldiers have orders not to shoot except in a life- threatening situation, and even then, only a high- ranking officer is allowed to give the order to shoot, he said. There are few settings in Israeli society where polit- The image that jumps right out are the children, the way they run for cover. ical subjects are taboo, but one such off-limit place is among men dressed in their army uniforms in the middle of the Gaza Strip. The same group of reserve soldiers who display a cer- tain political reticence while milling around their Gaza base with Uzis in hand —and in earshot of their commanding officer —would most likely be eager to voice their political views to a reporter if sitting, dressed in their shorts and sandals, in a Tel Aviv cafe. Still, when asked what it feels like to be doing miluim (reserve duty) here, and how their experiences in Gaza af- fect their lives back home, some of the opinions —and some of the frustrations —seep out. At first, there is silence; then a tall, middle-aged soldier joked, "Do you want the truth?" "Does anyone really care how we feel?" demanded an- other. "It doesn't feel good, but this is our job," offered a third. "We do the best we can. That's what you can tell the American people and the American Jews."- "Hopefully, some day it will be calm here and we