By land, sea, and air: Foreign elements or supporters of Gaza

Like many Egyptians, I am captivated by the videos of demonstrations sweeping through world capitals, with thousands waving Palestinian flags and calling not just for an end to war, but ending the Israeli occupation. Palestine is a just cause, and now it seems the peoples of the world are breaking free from the grip of the Zionist-American narrative and defying false accusations of anti-Semitism. This is all very promising, isn’t it?

The Global March to Gaza and efforts to break the siege were met by massive challenges.  Reports first emerged of Israel detaining international activists who sought to break the Gaza siege by sea on the Madleen. Then, Libyan forces loyal to Haftar prevented the Sumud Convoy coming by land from Tunisia from nearing Egypt's western border; this was accompanied by the narrative that “the Muslim Brotherhood from Tunisia and Morocco want to infiltrate Egypt.” Then, news came on Friday that participants on the Global March to Gaza are facing deportation upon arrival at Cairo airport.

News of deportation started with three Algerians, then extended to delegations from the Netherlands, Norway, Morocco, Germany, and Belgium. But at one point, the Greek delegation was allowed safe entry after being stopped for hours, and Egypt’s position became unclear. Some said negotiations were ongoing and that the authorities were beginning to let the global solidarity marchers in. Then suddenly, by Friday noon, word spread that some had reached the Ismailia Youth Hostel, a designated meeting point.

I headed towards Ismailia with my colleague Mostafa Bassiouny hoping to find out: Who are these foreigners? What drives them? How are authorities treating them? And most importantly, will they succeed where Egyptians failed? Last year, Egyptians who tried to show solidarity with Gaza saw their demonstrations violently dispersed, with dozens still imprisoned today.

The road to Ismailia

At the first toll gate on the Cairo-Ismailia desert road, on the right side of the road, we saw dozens of people carrying Palestinian flags and surrounded by security forces. At the toll gates, plainclothes officers stood in every lane, inspecting vehicles; Egyptians were allowed through. This was around 7 pm Friday.

We decided not to stop for this group, and to continue heading for Ismailia. Later, I learned that the spokesperson for the march Saif Abukeshek, was among that group and had been detained briefly, and that the group suffered significant violence, even after boarding buses heading back to Cairo.

As we approached the Ismailia city gateway toll station around 8 pm, circulating videos were showing the youth hostel surrounded by security, and people being forcibly loaded into vehicles headed to Cairo. But it remains unclear whether deportations have been carried out.

On the right side of the road, the nearby Circle K store was crowded with dozens of foreigners wearing the Palestinian scarf. As soon as I entered, plainclothes officers shut the door behind me. One said, “That’s it, closed.” The workers pleaded to keep it open, “Let us earn a living, sir,” to no avail. People bought water and coffee, used the bathrooms, charged their phones, and lined up in a long and slow que for the cashier.

Outside, to the right of Circle K, another long line formed for the restrooms annexed to a small mosque, whose doors were firmly locked. Beyond the mosque, hundreds of solidarity activists had spread out on a patch of dirt land, perhaps once intended as a garden.

They had come from France, Greece, USA, Italy, Turkey, Spain, Switzerland, and more. My biggest surprise was meeting two young men playing string instruments and singing Bella Ciao, who came all the way from New Zealand. They had traveled over 16,000 km across the Indian Ocean to come here.

It was obvious these people were not mercenaries, as state-linked influencers and media pages had claimed. Quite the opposite. Those I spoke to said they regularly protest for Gaza back in their own countries, but concluded it wasn’t enough. “The genocide is ongoing, we can’t just watch and do nothing,” a French participant told me.

Almost everyone I spoke to was a university graduate, aged between 30 and 50, with jobs that they had taken leave from to join the march. A few had bought one-way tickets, while the majority booked a flexible return around June 20. But how did this all come together?

Melanie, 41, part of the US delegation, said she learned of the Global March through its website. She filled out an online application form, after which the organizers screened her social media and background, then conducted an interview. “They exclude anyone who doesn’t genuinely believe in the cause or hasn’t shown previous commitment,” she said.

Melanie often used “the cause” while talking, when I asked if she meant the Palestinian cause, she replied “Humanity.”

The road to the Global March

Five years ago, Melanie led a normal life until the police killed a Black woman in her neighborhood. She joined the anti-racism movement. Believing that all global injustices are interconnected and that her country is directly complicit in most of them; she began traveling from Portland, Oregon, to Washington, DC, to join anti-war pro Gaza protests.

After her application was accepted, she took leave from her job at a major pharmaceutical company and paid for a one-way ticket from Portland to Cairo, with a layover in London.

But what if she were arrested or failed to return to work on time? “Jobs don’t matter now. This is genocide. An entire population is being wiped out. When governments fail, the people must act. The American people especially bear responsibility because the US supports Israel. We protest against that in Washington too,” she said.

A security force formed a human cordon around the international activists sitting on the ground with their bags. We spoke with some of the young conscripts, they were mostly from Sharqiya province, serving in Ismailia, and newly drafted.

The activists, numbering over 500, sang and chanted while waving Palestinian and other flags as they seemed to settle, getting ready to spend the night or  wait until the other group joins them, or receive further instructions from the organizers.

Things were calm, so we entered the dirt lot to interview people.

Why Ismailia? “The goal was to gather outside Cairo in order to avoid alarming the Egyptian authorities. We don’t intend to mobilize Egyptians and we wanted to make that clear by avoiding gathering in the capital. We’re aware the authorities here disapprove of public assemblies, so we chose to gather at Ismailia which appeared to be a suitable city with enough hotel rooms for everyone,” stated a French delegate.

Participants estimate that around 2,000 made it into Egypt, despite the deportations. The original plan was to travel together in big buses from Cairo to Ismailia. But after the police began raiding their hotels and buses, they had to split into groups of two, and make their own way to Ismailia. That marked the beginning of the end.

They were now scattered and separated from organizers: some at the Ismailia Youth Hostel, others cornered at the Cairo gateways and more at the Ismailia gateways, some stuck in Cairo, some detained in hotels, and others still en route.

Trumas relived

While speaking to one participant, I heard a commander outside the security cordon give orders to his men “Close in! Close in!” The soldiers advanced in closed ranks, kettling the activists. The French began chanting and repeating asseyez-vous.. asseyez-vous (sit down), a well-known nonviolent resistance tactic.

Not everyone had time to sit before people began collapsing over each other as the circle was tightening. I fell between some luggage, a woman landed on top of me, and my glasses fell under someone’s feet. For a moment, I thought I would die in a stampede. Then they turned off the lights. I felt a surge of intense fear until Mostafa pulled me up and I recovered my glasses.

In December 2005, I had documented the violent dispersal of a peaceful Sudanese refugee sit-in at Mustafa Mahmoud Square in front of the UNHCR. The police had kettled them, offered no exit, turned off the lights, then unleashed water cannons. Dozens died in a few hours. That trauma resurfaced as I saw a fire truck arrive at speed.

We were at the far side of the dirt garden, away from the gateway. On the other side, near the microbuses, screams and chants erupted.

There, police opened the cordon to let in groups of three to six men in galabiyas/gowns with faces covered in scarves. They would beat someone and drag them out before resealing the cordon. One of the solidarity activists who endured this was wearing a white shirt, now covered in blood, as was his head. Screams continued, accompanied by the police-protected ‘civilian’ assaults.”

Some Egyptian media later dubbed them “local farm owners angry over the chaos” and claimed their fury was spontaneous, out of love for their country. But this thuggery wasn’t spontaneous. And even if it were, it was the police’ duty to prevent it. Instead, they did the opposite.

What was additionally worrying was the absence of any ambulances.

We tried to leave the circle of violence, but the conscripts refused. “Orders. No one leaves except on the microbuses”, pointing for us to go to the other side. But those vehicles were right next to the clashes. Who would willingly walk through that into an uncertain fate, unsure if it meant arrest or deportation?

No means for negotiations

This group had no leadership. Most leaders had been either detained from other spots or unreachable. Perhaps they were being pursued. This frustrated some activists. No one was able to negotiate or make decisions on behalf of the group.

Away from the violence, arbitrary arrests continued. After great difficulty, we exited, and found Melanie sitting on a distant curb. I asked if she would return to Cairo after all this.

She was disappointed by the lack of coordination. “No one prepared us for this,” she said. “I came to walk to Gaza. I’m really frustrated. I’m ready for arrest, to pay the price, but not to camp in Ismailia. I want to march to Gaza. If we fail today, we’ll wait for the organizers to show up and maybe try tomorrow. We didn’t come all this way to just go back.”

The war between Israel and Iran, which erupted that same morning, didn’t seem to matter to them. One participant told me, “There is always some major global event. None of them end the occupation or the genocide. Why should the pressure stop because Israel decided to wage war on Iran? On the contrary, this is even more reason to get aid into Gaza and stop the mass killing.”

I asked Melanie why they were pressuring Egypt. What did they expect Egypt to do? “We’re not pressuring Egypt. We hope it will let us march to Rafah. All we want is to pressure Israel and show support for Palestine. No one should stand idle in the face of genocide.”

Then why not go to Israel and protest at the airport? “Most of the organizers are already on Israel’s watchlist. There, we wouldn’t be allowed to do anything. No one would even see us. We hope Egypt will be different. Its stance towards Palestine is much better than other Arab states. We mean no harm to Egypt. We just want to support Gaza.”

By 11 pm the violence was escalating so we decided to head back to Cairo. The night ended in violent dispersal of the hundreds who had gathered near Ismailia. They were forced into buses and microbuses.

Later that evening, the various delegations held online meetings to account for the wounded and missing. They decided to wait until after the weekend to give organizers time to negotiate with Egyptian authorities.