Six Days and Seventy-Three

Abstract

The name ‘dog days’, for the warmest part of the summer, comes from the rising in the Mediterranean of Sirius, the Dog Star. The coast marking the western limit of the land over which Israelis and Palestinians have fought and argued for so long can be stiflingly hot in the middle of the year. In Gaza, the working day may finish early, around 2 pm, so that people can sleep indoors in the heat of the afternoon. Journalists working in the region may, if their deadlines permit, be tempted to do the same on a slow news day. At times of heightened tension, they may reason that they never know when they are going to get a good night’s sleep anyway — so they might as well grab a siesta if there is the chance. During the second Palestinian intifada, or uprising, against Israel, from the year 2000 onwards, Israeli military operations in Gaza usually began, and often concluded, in the hours of darkness. As the BBC’s correspondent there from 2002 to 2004, I would go to bed between midnight and 1 am never knowing whether I would sleep for six or seven hours, or six or seven minutes. If attacks came during the day, they were often from the air: missiles from helicopter gunships or warplanes. The helicopters would strike at cars carrying ‘senior Hamas operatives’ or other ‘terrorists’, as the Israeli Army Press Office referred to those who swelled the ranks of their enemies. Day or night, surprise was all.