ESSAY
The two greatest hopes in Gaza every day are to stay alive and not receive news of another devastating loss.
Deir el-Balah, Gaza – Welcome to Gaza, a place where every phone call brings news of someone’s death, every message announces the destruction of a friend’s home, and every airstrike strikes fear in your heart.
In this country, “home” is no longer a haven to live and relax; It is a precarious existence, subject to sudden devastation without warning.
The greatest hope one clings to is simply staying alive with one’s family, avoiding the heartbreaking loss of a loved one, or facing collective doom.
Consider the families that were erased from the registry office and wiped out together. At first glance it appears to be a catastrophe, but upon closer inspection it resembles a tragic yet merciful conclusion to the relentless bombings.
Nobody has to mourn anymore. And in a way, some people envy those who met a peaceful end and escaped the ongoing madness of shelling and killing.
Palestinians mourn relatives killed in the Israeli bombing at al-Aqsa hospital in Deir el-Balah, south of the Gaza Strip, on Monday, October 23, 2023 [Ali Mahmoud/AP Photo]Reading through the news – on the rare occasions when there is internet access – and witnessing the chaos surrounding the entry of aid trucks into Gaza, one cannot help but find the world’s priorities confusing.
Instead of focusing on efforts to end the war, the emphasis appears to be on providing aid.
What the people of Gaza need more than food, water or other assistance is an end to the senseless violence, bloodshed and destruction. They are crying out for an end to the war.
It’s now day 18 and I haven’t been able to share these notes in my journal for three days because I didn’t have internet access. But despite the passage of time, nothing significant changes. Gaza remains trapped in the repetitive cycle of death and devastation to which the world has become accustomed.
Death after death
Yesterday we received the heartbreaking news of the death of journalist Roshdi Sarraj, a dear friend. The shock of his loss was difficult to bear. His thoughts revolved around his wife Shorouq, another friend and their one-year-old daughter Dania.
The day before, my sisters and I woke up to even more devastating news: a friend’s family of nine had been killed. This family included the mother Nibal and her daughters Saja, Doha, Sana, Mariyam and Lana as well as their son Mohammed. They died after Israeli orders to leave Gaza sent them to their relatives’ home in Deir el-Balah. Only Noor, a married daughter in Qatar, survived this tragedy.
The constant excitement of the news cycle provides little respite to process the grief of losing loved ones and mourn them appropriately.
Noor’s tearful voice on the phone from Doha as she begged us to take photos of her family, already buried in silence, brought to mind the words of Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish: “Death doesn’t hurt the dead, it only hurts the living sore.” “
(AlJazeera)