After the supposed conclusion of Operation Rainbow, Sara Hussein, reporting from Rafah, finds that shootings and tank patrols remain a part of daily life with hundreds still homeless Abdel-Halim Radwan sits in the dull classroom of the Al-Khansaa UNRWA school in Rafah. The blackboard is still in place but the desks and chairs have been replaced with mattresses and blankets. What was once a place of learning has now become a temporary home for some 60 families made homeless by Israeli's invasion of Rafah last month. At 24, Radwan recently became a father; he also lost his home in the "Block O" area in the Rafah refugee camp. On 13 May, one day after five Israeli Defence Force soldiers were blown up inside their APC, Apache helicopter gunships began hovering overhead. Without warning, according to Radwan, bombs began to fall on civilian housing. He escaped from his home with his wife and child and has been living in one of the 13 rooms of the school ever since. Some of those in the school had their homes demolished by bulldozers, but still others saw their houses collapse after heavy shelling from ground or air, or after tanks were driven though them. Frustrations are running high in the school. Exams had to be postponed because of the invasion and other schools are now operating on double shifts -- morning and afternoon -- to allow students to finish the school year. The 150 people taking shelter at the school, along with many others living in other UNRWA facilities, with friends or family or just in the street, were made homeless by last months' Israeli incursion into Rafah. It came in the wake of the shooting of pregnant settler Tapi Hatuel and her four children, and two attacks on IDF vehicles which killed 11 soldiers. As a result, Israel launched an operation that amounted to the biggest troop deployment in the Strip since 1967. However, "Operation Rainbow" soon became controversial, with numerous house demolitions and the shooting of unarmed protesters raising international revulsion. Troops finally pulled out 24 May, leaving scenes of destruction that reportedly had Peter Hansen, head of UNRWA, in tears. Residents living in the school charge that neither UNRWA nor the Palestinian Authority (PA) is doing enough to help them. "UNRWA was providing us with three meals a day before, but now they have cut the meals to two a day," said Radwan. "They want to force the PA to help us more, but now we are suffering." He pointed out, however, that more than anything, those made homeless need not just food but new housing. As a result, a committee of those made homeless, including Radwan, is trying to organise a possible "invasion" of some PA-owned homes in other areas of the Gaza Strip. "We are researching the names of corrupt officials with empty housing in Gaza, we may 'invade' their houses," Radwan said. Home invasions may be the only answer for those made homeless in the Brazil, Tel Al-Sultan and Salaam areas of Rafah. Weeks now after the invasion began little-to-no improvements can be seen on the ground. The remains of demolished houses can be seen throughout the camp, as well as the creation of "new roads" whereby IDF tanks have been driven straight through buildings to avoid travelling on main streets. The IDF justifies such actions by saying that such streets are often mined; however, the experience of Palestinians in Rafah belies a different kind of reason. "Some of the collapsed houses in this area were not demolished by bulldozers, the tanks drove into rooms and began firing, or they just drove straight through. The structure became unstable and the house collapsed after the army left," said Abu Ahmed, a Tel Al-Sultan resident. The worst destruction can be seen in the Brazil area, where 57 year-old Jomaa Yousef Abu Hamad is camped in a makeshift tent composed of several blankets tied to a wooden frame. A few cushions and a mat cover the ground; an electricity line has been brought in from a neighbouring house. The tent is pitched over the site of the house he lost on 20 May. His family opted to stay in one of the schools but he will not leave the site of his home "until I get my rights from Sharon", he says. His house is nearly a kilometre from the infamous Philadephi route so he is yet unable to understand why it became a target in an operation charged with widening the route and unearthing arms-smuggling tunnels. In the early morning of 20 May, a tank began firing shells at the front gate of his house. When the shelling stopped briefly Abu Hamad, who speaks fluent Hebrew, shouted out to the tank driver in an attempt to convince him to stop shooting. "They refused to speak to me and sent me to the tank just down the street at the next building. At that tank they sent me to the next one, and the same until I reached the end of the street. When I got back to my house, I found a bulldozer at the gate," he said. The bulldozer then proceeded to demolish the gate of the house while the 13 members of his family gathered at the back of the house. Again, he attempted to negotiate with the IDF but to no avail. His house was destroyed. Abu Hamad, who at one time was employed by the Brazilian government and is fluent in Hebrew, English, Spanish and Portuguese, now has nothing to show for years of work and international travel. A small calor-gas heater and a shisha pipe are the only items in his new makeshift home. With resignation he says he foresees little chance of anything changing. But inside Rafah refugee camp at "Block J", resignation was being replaced with anger and defiance as some 6,000 Palestinians gathered recently for a Hamas rally. Men and women, seated separately in an area behind the Salaam mosque, listened to Fawzi Barhoum -- Rafah spokesperson for Hamas -- promise the movement would renew its resistance efforts. From a podium bearing enormous posters of assassinated Hamas leaders Ahmed Yassin and Abdul-Aziz Al-Rantisi, he called for Arab nations to donate money and weapons to the group and for the PA to unfreeze its bank accounts to allow it to give money to the families of its "martyrs". He impressed, however, that Hamas would hold to a ceasefire if Israel left the West Bank and Gaza. In front of the podium local youth dressed in "martyrdom" outfits with faces covered marched wielding wooden replicas of Kalashnikovs. They stood chanting by a wheelchair placed on top of Israeli and American flags bearing a picture of Yassin. A painted canvas representing an Israeli building was set alight at the end of the rally, rousing numerous children to run into the centre of the area and be pushed back by Hamas "ushers" kitted-out in Hamas t-shirts and caps. Families of those killed in the invasion were presented with wooden plaques, and a statement of support from members of Hamas in Khan Younis was read. Some, however, in the area are less than impressed with this sort of gesture. A local English teacher noted that the children taking part in the rally were in the middle of their exam period and would do better to be studying. He expressed frustration at the actions of assorted Palestinian political groups. "These people don't care about anyone," he said. "When you are alive, they don't even know your name, but if you are killed, they fight with each other to claim that you were working for them." The situation on the ground has been reduced to relative quiet, with the exception of border areas such as Tel Al-Sultan and Block O. The latter is still being patrolled by tanks at night, according to local residents, and in Tel Al-Sultan, gunfire coming from a nearby IDF watchtower could be heard throughout the night and into the morning. Parts of both areas are practically inaccessible after dark because any movement elicits IDF gunfire. For the most part, locals are simply trying to pick up their lives and return to normality. For those worst off, finding a home or a way to feed their children is their first concern, but for those lucky enough to have escaped what many described as the "revenge of the Israelis", the fate of Israeli President Ariel Sharon's revised disengagement plan is being watched closely. Before the Knesset vote on the plan was due to take place, Sharon dismissed two of its biggest opponents, ministers Benny Alon and Avigdor Lieberman of the National Religious Party, in a move that proved controversial in Israel. Many characterised the dismissals as undemocratic, but Sharon's political manoeuvring resulted in the plan passing in principle by 14-7. The vote does not actually sanction the evacuation of settlements and Sharon will have to go back to the Knesset before uprooting any settlers, but a triumphant Sharon said the vote meant "disengagement is on the way." Although most Gazan Palestinians are wary of the motives behind Sharon's move, they acknowledge that a pullout will make their lives easier, and some are positive about the alleged plan. Abu Ayman, a doctor from Tel Al-Sultan is among those looking forward to an evacuation. "I am optimistic, and I know many other people who are too," he said. "The evacuation will be good for us. It will allow us to live again, to start our lives. Above all, this is what we want."
