EREZ CROSSING, Gaza Border- They came in buses and cars from Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and the Galilee: Palestinians, Israelis, and few international activists. They waved Palestinian flags and carried banners chanting in Arabic and Hebrew: "Break the Siege," "Set Gaza Free," and "Down with Netanyahu and Mubarak."

"Welcome to Erez Crossing Point," the sign reads in Hebrew, Arabic, and English. The ultimate irony, as no one is allowed to cross in or out except for a lucky few, such as diplomats and aid workers, or the unlucky ones who suffer from terminal illnesses. The rest of the 1.5 million Palestinian inhabitants remain caged in like animals in the largest open air prison on earth, called Gaza.

Eighty-six international activists were allowed to enter the Strip last night from Egypt through Rafah. We were told that they too, accompanied by hundreds of Gazans, were chanting and waving on the other side of the border, but we could not see or hear them. Between them and us were a few hundred meters, a wall, a steel gate, and armed Israeli soldiers.

More than a thousand activists from around 40 countries remained in Cairo after the Egyptian government declined them entry due to the "sensitive situation" in the Palestinian territory. When was it not a "sensitive situation" in Palestine?

Several of their members were forcibly detained in hotels around Cairo, as well as violently forced into pens in Tahrir Square by Egyptian police and security forces.

The scene in Erez was like something from a movie set: chanters to the left of the gate, reporters to the right, and the Israeli Police and Border Patrol in the middle. There were no scuffles or confrontations, except for an argument between a Palestinian from Jaffa and Bedouin manning the "Free Gilad Shalit" tent.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" yells the Palestinian, who called him a "house Arab." A shouting match ensues, and the reporters, along with their cameramen shove and elbow their way to capture the scene.

Last year, I covered the war from the same vantage point. Journalists were prevented entry into Gaza by the Israeli military. I returned that evening to East Jerusalem where Palestinians huddled around television screens to watch the carnage in Gaza. On New Years Day, I awoke with a news hangover. Israeli jets were pounding Gaza for the sixth continuous day, and the Israeli military was building up its forces along the border in preparation for a ground incursion. I can still hear the sound of the jets screeching above.

The prison gate opens momentarily, and an old Palestinian man is being pushed on a wheelchair past the border guards for treatment at al-Makased Hospital in East Jerusalem. I ask before the pack of reporters attack him, "Hajj, how is Gaza?"

"It's like hell," he answers.

Originally published on the Huffington Post

It is not the first time Palestinians have called for the resignation of Mahmoud Abbas. When Hamas swept to victory in the Palestinian Parliamentary Elections in January 2006, angry mobs from the defeated Fatah party staged rallies in the Gaza Strip, calling for his resignation. Many gathered outside the parliament in Gaza City, setting fire to government cars and firing shots into the air.

Today, the anger is more subtle, but more poignant. Palestinians from all wakes of life have been stunned and disappointed by Abbas, who withdrew Palestinian support for a vote in the U.N. Human Rights Council in Geneva to have the Goldstone report sent to the U.N. General Assembly for possible action, the first of many steps towards possibly establishing war crimes tribunals to investigate Israel's alleged war crimes in Gaza.

Just a few days before Abbas suspended action on the Goldstone report, a poll showed the Palestinian president with a 55 percent approval rating compared to 32 percent for Gaza's Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh. A new poll has not been conducted yet, but one thing is certain, Abbas today will be lucky to receive double digits. Across the board, Palestinians have been calling for his resignation.

"He is a traitor. He sold the land [to the Israelis] ... now he sold our blood," says Abed M. from Qalandia Refugee Camp just outside of Ramallah.

Abed's sentiments are not unique. Posters which first appeared in Gaza showing Mahmoud Abbas with a black X across his face and the words, "To the trash heap of history, you traitor, Mahmoud Abbas," have made their way to West Bank and even to East Jerusalem.

A few days ago, Gaza professors threw shoes at his defaced image and Hamas has called Abbas' decision "a betrayal of the blood of the martyrs."

Meanwhile, rumors have been spreading like wildfire in the West Bank and Gaza. A news segment aired on al-Aqsa TV, a Hamas-controlled satellite station broadcasting out of Gaza, featured a guest analyst who claimed that Israel threatened to release a video tape showing Palestinian leaders urging Israel to be tougher on Hamas during the Gaza offensive unless the PA backed down over the Goldstone report. Another story circulating on the Palestinian street is about Abbas' children and their investments with Israeli partners. The Israeli government has reportedly threatened the PA that it would refuse to license a new Palestinian mobile phone company, partially owned by one of Abbas' sons, if the PA pushed for the adoption of the Goldstone Report in Geneva.

On Wednesday one senior Palestinian Authority figure, Yasser Abed Rabbo, conceded the move was a "mistake."

"A mistake?" fired back former Knesset member Azmi Bishara on Al Jazeera TV. "A mistake is when I press the wrong floor on the elevator."

Just an hour after the Goldstone debacle erupted, when I called a colleague of mine (who shall remain anonymous) working in Ramallah as a stringer for a foreign news agency to ask him whether this issue will have a lasting damage on the Palestinian Authority, he quickly corrected me and said, "You mean the Vichy Government of Palestine."

Article first published in Huffington Post.

Five years ago when I was working on the documentary Occupied Minds, I got a real taste of what it’s like being a reporter working in a war zone. My crew and I had just finished shooting a segment in the devastated area of Rafah and were heading back to Gaza City, when suddenly, traffic came to a screeching halt.

Two Israeli tanks had blocked off the road while a huge armored Caterpillar bulldozer tore through an orange orchard removing trees and shrubs that the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) said were being used to provide cover to terrorists. The temperature was over 90 degrees and felt as if it were over 100 degrees in our rented van, which did not have working air conditioning. So, gasping for air, we decided to step outside.

No sooner had we walked a couple of feet outside the van than one of the tanks, without warning, started to fire towards us, literally drawing a line in the sand with bullets just a few feet ahead of us. A bullhorn then ordered us to go back inside the van, which incidentally had the words Press & TV tapped on its side and roof in large red letters. But this did not stop the tank from firing. All I could think that day was what if the machinegun operator had miscalculated? I later learned that our camera man was missing a finger because he had been shot through his camera a year earlier by an Israeli sniper.

This past Friday, Jacky Rowland was reporting from the West Bank village of Bil'in, explaining to viewers about the separation fence and the weekly protests that take place there, when Israeli troops began firing tear gas at the protesters and then directly at her.

The video below shows Rowland, wearing a helmet, exclaiming "We're under attack!" as a tear gas grenade flies past her.
She continues reporting, telling viewers that the Israeli soldiers are "obviously trying to take us off the air."

More on Bil'in.