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Zakaria Mahra, the caretaker administrator of Gaza International Airport, turns up for work every day in a crisp suit and neatly knotted tie, the natty overseer of an empire of ghosts.
In the gleaming, marble-floored airport terminal, rows of check- in desks stand empty. The arrival and departure boards still work, though they have no flight information to impart. The sofa cushions have been plumped and the air perfectly chilled in the vacant VIP lounge. Air traffic controllers report for duty daily in the tower, where they have a bird's-eye view of the ruined runway.
No aircraft has taken off or landed at Gaza International in nearly five years, yet its 400-member Palestinian staff strives to keep the airport in working order, hoping that they might reclaim what was once their proudest symbol of sovereignty.
Debate over the fate of the airport speaks to the larger question of whether Gaza will gain any real measure of freedom when Israel hands over the seaside strip of land to Palestinian control, as it plans to this summer. Beginning in mid-August, Israel intends to relinquish all 21 Jewish settlements and withdraw its thousands of army troops who guard them.
"If we were to get our airport back, we would have dignity, have some sense of controlling our own destiny," said Gaza-based human rights activist Raji Sourani.
"But if there's no way in or out -- if Israel controls the entrances and exits, if it keeps the airport closed -- then Gaza," Sourani said, turning up his palms and smiling faintly as he uttered a much-invoked Palestinian phrase, "Gaza is just one big prison."
When the airport was opened in late 1998, it triggered a burst of patriotic pride among Palestinians. At a local celebration of the opening, a Gazan tribal sheik on horseback and in full regalia had to be restrained from taking a...