It is the 10th of July 2014, the
third day that I am writing in my diary about the war here in Gaza, and the
stories that will forever live within me. Pain running through my stomach and
abdominals, an emotional pain, constantly waiting for the future with fear and
worry. Despite the fear and worry, people are still determined to live and
fulfill their dreams, nothing will stop us ... apart from death. For me, this
has become like a series of action, which returns every
year. The only difference is that there are new heroes and, sadly, new victims.
It seems that the productivity of this series is increasing year after year.
The first show starts suddenly with
random shelling, the thunder of the bombs, the explosions, the sound of aircrafts,
the sound of ambulances, the screams of children and the cries of the mothers.
Once again, the breaking news of Gaza hits the headlines, with an updated
number of martyrs. This is just the beginning of the story. In every story
there are thousands of tales with eyes filled with tears of pain and anguish,
and fear of what has happened around us, at the same time there remains hope,
strength and the willpower to exist.
As usual, my family gathers in one
room thinking it is safe, the safest room in our home. Only this time the war
comes in the holy month of Ramadhan, this is something that was completely not
expected. We all have that one 'safe' room yet we know that nowhere IS safe. We
have to expect bombing and shelling anywhere at any time and any place. This
war lives up to its name good and proper.
I need to write these notes just to
record them in order to share with the rest of the world. However, I do not
need to record this for myself because it will remain entrenched in my heart
and memory and I will never forget them. How can a person forget the permanent
pain of loss inside of him? But I write to share my horrific experience with
the whole world, for them, to know. Perhaps my writing will be able to wake the
world up who is in a deep sleep, whilst millions weep.
I remember the fear of my mother
when hearing the sound of shelling and missiles approaching more and more from
our house, here the role of my mother is starting as worry and fear are
increasing . My mother starts reading verses from the Koran, and make us repeat
them, perhaps it could save her children, surviving the brutality of the
shells, as if something would protect their children from
death .. !!. Here I stand saying "don't stress me with
your worry mum the worse thing can happen is to die and we will all die one
day."
My younger sister frequently says
"Mom do not go out of the house, my mother do not sleep away from me, mom
do not leave me alone. Since the beginning of the war my sister is constantly
in the smallest room of the house, thinking it’s the safest room in the house,
as previously stated.
In the morning the shelling
intensified and it was violent and scary ,it lead to my little sister crying
and crying and squeezing my hands tightly, in a way that scared me a lot; what
makes me cry is her look while she saying these words "Maisoon, do not
leave my hands Let's die together!" or when she says "mmm I'm not
afraid of death but I do not like to be tortured by it or I do not like to
to... to stay alone in this life!" .
Imagine with me , I don’t sleep the
whole night fearing that if I close my eyes, I will wake up with something I
don’t like. The worst case scenario, seeing my family dead. I realize that
everything is possible in a war , but the feeling of losing someone close to you
is so difficult, I know that very well, because I still suffer the loss of my
father (May Allah bless his soul) and I always will. Nothing can ever bring him
back.
A shortage of sleep has exhausted
me, and my body is exhausted by thinking too much. I often have the desire to
shout loudly and say "OH, PEOPLE PLEASE STOP , THAT’S ENOUGH ( KHaaalaaas
, in Arabic ), I WOULD LIKE TO SLEEP JUST ONE HOUR ". Perhaps someone will
hear or pay attention.
The clock struck 3:00 at dawn , it
is time for the preparation of suhoor (breakfast in Ramadan). I do it, trying
to kill the desire of sleep in my eyes after a scary night ..
"Mohammed wake up, come on.
Zana wake up and drink a cup of water, mom, drink water, eat something."
As I fulfill the role and responsibilities of a mother who takes care of her
children, you can consider this a feature of my character.
I love my family very much, I am so
proud of them and I miss my siblings, who are abroad, a lot. They remain very
worried and they call, call us ten times within an hour to be assured that
everything is fine.
The phone is ringing, it is my
brother Dr. Yazid "Are you okay. If there's anything surrounding you,
DON’T go out the house!"
Then another phone-call, it is my
brother Eng. Yazan "What happens, I heard there is a shelling in our city
Deir al-Balah reassure me, do you have electricity, do you need anything?"
and the same thing from my brothers Yousef and Zaid.
The one worried the most and in a
complete state of horror is my sister Amira. She is studying medicine in
Germany. You will not believe, she calls every hour or at any moment she hears
news that there is bombing in Deir al-Balah "I am following News and I
heard that there was bombing, I am worried a lot, please assure me, don’t hide
anything from me, Are you Okay?!”
Every time my siblings call, I
can't pretend that everything is fine I can’t tell them, "Yes, we're fine,
me, my mother, Zana and Mohammed, do not be afraid. It has became normal to
us”. Whatever Allah has written, good or bad, will be. And they themselves know
that.
Birthday..
14-7 is the date of my Birthday ,
today is my 22nd birthday. Now, I am a girl who is twenty-two years old. It’s a
nice feeling to grow a year, whilst your dreams and ambitions grow with you.
Twenty two years - a dream growing up with me since my childhood is to be a
bright star in the sky, to raise the voice of truth, to be the voice of poor
people, the voice of my beloved country Palestine. For Twenty-two years I have
seen my people suffering from injustice.
I was planning to celebrate my
twenty-second birthday , because I thought it would be special this time.
Especially after I graduated from University. I finished one stage of my life
and will take a new stage, and go out to realize my dreams. The first thing was
a scholarship, I got it after three years of trying, without feeling bored or
frustrated, a chance to travel to the United States in a scholarship to learn
how to set up scientific research.
I was so happy
I was at the peak of my happiness,
feeling proud that I achieved a goal or perhaps a dream. I believe that my
dream is mine and I will get it. I learned this from Martin, Gandhi, my father
and many great people who have played a role in shaping my character. What
increased my joy, I knew that my Birthday this year will be in the same time
that I'll be there. So, I'm going to see my brother, Yosef, who I have not seen
for ten years and more, because of the situation in the Gaza Strip. For this
reason, I thought it would be a special birthday, I was closing my eyes when I
put my head on my pillow, dreaming how fantastic it will be. This is the
subject, to live plunged in a fantasy world, a world in which every privacy and
what I wished, exist.
Call me crazy, for it is my best
feature, sometimes a person needs some madness to taste the sweetness of life.
It will be the first time to be out of Gaza's boards, it is the first time to
taste freedom. But the price is very expensive.
I started planning, moment by
moment, how I will spend the time with my brother. And suddenly something
stopped me ‘Oh! One Moment Maisoon, Do not forget that you are in Gaza, you
have to realize that.’ Perhaps it is the cost of living in Gaza, to put
something between a dream and reality and to expect anything to happen. But
this disturbing cost does not stop me dreaming, never. I used to dream and be
optimistic that the next will be better, no matter what the circumstances are; this
was the sentence of executioner to hinder me to travel without knowing the
reasons .. !!
And what made the thing became more
complex is the war against Gaza. OH! What bad luck you have Maisoon…! All that
I have planned has ended in a bad way, and nothing will happen! I lost my joy
and happiness, but there’s one thing that happened, one thing didn’t change yet,
it was to have a special birthday and yes I had it, but with a view of the
Israeli occupation. Thanks to the Israeli occupation, particularly with these
horrifying pictures of children and civilians killed and their homes destroyed.
It's been made special by the sound of bombing everywhere and the electricity
and water shortages. It's been made special by my younger sister who says
“please let us die together!”
This was the equivalent to my
birthday cake. So thank you for making my birthday so special. Thanks to the
silent world, the so called callers of human rights and biggest thanks to the
humanity of Israel.
Time of breakfast:
The time now is 4:00 pm, the time
to start preparing the breakfast. These are the ritual of the holy month of
Ramadhan, but in these circumstances, everything is different. My mother tries
to choose easy meals that can be prepared quickly and we help her to make it in
a short time!
Electricity is still cut off, the
shelling is continuing and different voices in the area, with each hit we get
out of the kitchen and wait for a bit, then we are back completing cooking the
food, thus like playing a game. Now, everything is prepared and after ten
minutes we will have our breakfast, but suddenly we hear heavy shelling near,
close to the home. My home is near to UN school which has a huge number of
families, and the parents who fear for their children’s lives. You hear the
screaming of kids and the sounds of sirens from ambulances. Five people have
been killed.
My mother says " hurry up, eat
quickly, praying and don’t go out, OK?"
Indeed, we eat but we do not taste
the food, the fear overpowers us in many ways, this is being one of them: what
we eat just to give our bodies strength from exhaustion of this bad situation,
and no one can bear it.
Now, the radio news station is
starting in my home! Yes, don’t be surprised, every one of us is following the
news. While the electricity continues to cut, the only window is by using our
cell phones to be kept updated with what's happening outside. Imagine,
twenty-four-seven we hear the news. It seems that my home turned completely
into a news station, but in a different form.
I told you before, that everything
is changing because of this the war, it doesn’t care about anything even the
holy month, the religious rituals or at least the humanity! That they violated
your inviolable Ramadan, sorry Ramadan!
My pen has stopped writing, because
I can't bear what is happening and I can't bear the brutal war and the
massacres have been committed one after the other, without any movement of the
world. And also, because the stories and events, how much I tried to narrate is
incomparable to what is actually happening. The events are indescriptibles. The ink from my pen
has finished and I don’t have completed my story.
Will the war end? I do not know.
But I know, that it has planted pain and pain in the hearts of people,
especially in those children who have lost their families, their ties and their
dreams but their eyes are still shining .. ! We are waiting and we are still
waiting for the real victory, for freedom, shining it’s sun in the land of a
long occupation. Maybe it is our destiny to die, if not in this war, it may be
in the coming days or perhaps, will be like those who drowned in the sea, seeking
to save their lives. Or luckier, to be the survivors on a beach, where we can
find the new world.
Regards
Maisoon
