What was it like, staying in a Palestinian house? We slept on their mattresses. In the beginning when there was water we used toilets, and after that we used sandbags. There was an intense argument over whether it’s OK to use their kitchens or not. I was in the ‘yes’ faction, but there were lots of guys against it. One guy was the first to go make black coffee and that led to lengthy deliberations: to drink or not to drink. The way I saw it, I pictured this family returning to their house and seeing it totally wrecked, the windows all broken, the floors torn up and the walls messed up by grenades and they say, “The sons of bitches ate my cornflakes, I can’t believe it.” No chance. They won’t care if you used their cooking gas, if you used their kitchen. That’s total bullshit in my opinion. I don’t think that type of quandary is complex at all. I think it’s totally irrelevant, at that point it simply doesn’t matter if you do or don’t use their cooking gas or their kitchens. All this happened before we knew the houses would be blown up once we left them. The very day we left Gaza, all the houses we had stayed in were blown up by combat engineers working together with a small force, and then we were told, “It’s time to leave.”