One of my first glimpses of the Gaza Strip was a youth on a motorcycle who threw me his red kuffiyeh. “Remember me!” he shouted, before disappearing in a sea of flags. With a certain irony, it was the members of the Viva Palestina aid convoy who ended up playing the role of war victims as we finally rolled into Gaza on 6 January. We were still reeling from a clash with Egyptian police that left 60 injured the night before. Mohamed Madi writes from the Gaza Strip. Read more about 30 hours in Gaza