MIDDLE EAST: They begin to take over Marna House cafe half an hour before the game, lads in T-shirts and jeans, a few with peaked caps. They bear no arms or banners and chant no slogans, but settle round tables in the garden, where Basil has strategically positioned eight television sets, and in front large screens on the lower and upper verandas.
"We're bored with Israel, we want to live," says Khaled, a slender youngster sporting gelled hair. While they watch the World Cup semi-final between Italy and Germany, they forget about the army at the gate of Gaza, the tanks at Beit Hanoun, the artillery shells that plough the fields at the edge of the city, the missiles that take out men and boys like themselves.
Waiters serve bottled water, lemonade with mint, coffee, tea, soft drinks, sandwiches, French fries. And shisha, the water pipes stoked with aromatic tobacco.
The picture on the screen jumps and breaks up, the sound scrambles: Israeli spy drones ruffle satellite transmissions. A single shot cracks nearby, ignored. The grumble of war is drowned out by cheers and sighs, by hooting cars circulating in the streets to celebrate the football cup of kindness.
A few fans sneak away to beat the unofficial midnight curfew imposed by Israeli bomber and helicopter pilots. But most stay and brave the unlit streets and alleyways that return them to dark homes, hot beds, and an un- predictable, uncertain new day.