It has been so long since I last shared what is in my head with the rest of the world. It has been always difficult to form a thousand thoughts raging inside my head mixed with thoughtful emotions, random words, faces, places and other things.
Maybe the reason is because I don’t want to share that with anyone. Or maybe it’s because I am too lazy to write, or even the difficulty of finding the right words.
Let’s go back in time for a few days ago. Starting with the moment where the recent mercilessly inhumane aggression on Gaza started, where my family, friends and memories reside. The numbers resulted from an eight-day long aggression on civilians whose only fault was persisting and deciding on living on their land for no matter what.
Many of you know that I have lived in Gaza for twenty years with no breaks at all. During which, I have become the man you know today. I was born on the first Intifada, lived the second, and survived through countless airstrikes, invasions and continuous aggression till the day where I moved to London pursuing higher education, three months ago. It feels just like yesterday.
I am writing this and I am still can’t find the words that perfectly fit how I felt during the last aggression on Gaza, unable to even tailor my own words feeling the incredibly amazing weakness of language.
Living in Gaza was the easy part. Surviving (e.g. Cast Lead) was a matter of persistent and unbreakable determination to live and resist in spite of all the killing and destruction everywhere. But looking at what lasted for eight days, knowing that I am safe and no harm can reach me while family, friends and memories are at a very high risk given the fact that any second could be their last.
The mere thought of receiving bad news on any of them was haunting me leaving me sleepless, terrifying me to death every night. I could swear I could hear voices emanating from the darkness agonized, gnawing voices filled with black eternity of pain of what sounded like demons fighting among themselves.
No words would ever fit to describe how very terrified and worried I was during this time specifically. I know it is not the first time for this to happen. But it is the first time to happen while I am not in Gaza, knowing I am safe here, looking for afar. Worried, sad, and pale is how I felt and looked. I couldn’t do anything but read the news on what’s going on praying no harm will touch my beloved ones.
I am writing this with teary eyes and a shivering body. These ugly eight days none of us wished they had lived or even existed in this year.
A part of me is happy it all ended. But a bigger part is sad for all the people who have been killed, injured and had their houses destroyed. But regardless, Israel will never break our soul, nor will it kill our persistence.