This story is written by Rola, a woman in her mid-twenties living in Gaza. I’ll be publishing a story from Gaza every month or so, additional to my regular writing.
December 2023 – Chronicles of Life in Gaza
In the wake of the conflict that erupted on October 7th 2023, the trajectory of my daily life, poised for work, was abruptly altered by the dissonance of screams and bombings. The urgent call to return home was underscored by an email confirming the suspension of work, initially believed to be indicative of another transient war. However, as the days unfolded, the reality proved to be markedly different, plunging me into a profound depression that lingered through the passing of a month.
Today, on the 80th day of this protracted war, the struggle for the most basic necessities – food and drink – becomes a daily ordeal. The unimaginable need for clean water was thrust into stark reality with a recent bout of illness, a consequence of drinking contaminated water. A mere four months ago, I embarked on an ambitious journey seeking employment and a salary within a company. Today, that company, along with colleagues and any semblance of financial stability, has vanished, leaving shattered dreams in its wake.
The paramount aspiration now is for a night’s rest untouched by explosions or nightmares. I earnestly pray for divine healing, patience, and a return to the semblance of our previous lives. The destruction wrought by this war extends to every facet of life in Gaza, where companies, schools, and homes lie in ruins. Living in proximity to a camp for displaced people, their agonizing screams in the cold of winter become my daily wake-up call. The absence of electricity since the war’s inception compels us to burn wood and books for warmth, a stark illustration of the harsh conditions endured. Despite the immense pain and hatred for a world seemingly indifferent to our plight, I feel powerless in my efforts to end the war. Solitude becomes a yearning, especially in the aftermath of explosions that leave me with debilitating headaches lasting three days. Disconnected from communications and the internet, I grapple with a profound sense of detachment from the world. Brief reprieves comes when I manage to connect to the internet, allowing me to watch space and engage with friends, providing solace in moments of despair. Yet, the intermittent disconnection brings tears, and the fear that downloads may not open during long disconnections remains deeply unsettling.
Dreams of post-war travel for Umrah or tourism fuel my determination to save money for a month-long escape from ravaged Gaza. Returning to the obliterated landscape, the uncertainty surpasses that of previous wars. In this conflict, we traverse from one unknown to another, haunted by the sixfold rise in food prices and the stark reality that many left their homes with nothing.
Amidst the hardships, a plea resonates for God’s swift relief, patience, healing, and peace, aspiring for a Gaza that regains its former beauty.
Contemplating the scenario following the war, questions loom large: Where will we live, will we resume work, and how does one reconcile with the indelible images of countless injured and martyred? A ghost town devoid of landmarks, homes, streets, universities, and institutions awaits, presenting a sobering reality that necessitates resilience beyond imagination.
As a girl with dreams and ambitions, the aftermath prompts a commitment to find freelance work, an endeavour to fill the void left by the war. The aversion to idle time and a determination to derive meaning from adversity underscore the strength to rebuild, rejuvenate, and pursue a future that transcends the haunting echoes of war.
January 2024 – Whispers Amidst the Echoes
In the heart of Gaza, where wars have etched their tales into the very essence of life, my existence unfolds against the backdrop of twenty four tumultuous years. The symphony of missiles has become the soundtrack of my days, each explosion echoing the chapters of a life marked by turmoil and resilience.
In this intervention, my voice emerges, a mural of emotions painted by the brushstrokes of conflict. The canvas of my existence bears witness to the untold suffering woven into the fabric of my being. Wars have cast shadows over every aspect of my life, stealing moments, dreams, and yet, my spirit persists.
I dream. Oh, how I dream of a life bathed in tranquillity, where the air is free of the acrid smoke of battle. With every breath, I yearn for peace, for a respite from the constant turmoil that has become the norm. The dreams persist, a flicker of hope in the darkest of times, a testament to the indomitable human spirit.
But woven into the narrative of my life is the painful reality of witnessing the displaced, those souls left adrift in the unforgiving streets, seeking refuge from the bitter cold. It is a sight that pierces the armour of resilience, a cruel reminder of the collective suffering endured by my people. Yet, amidst the rubble and the echoes of warfare, hope endures.
Today – The Road Ahead
In the early months of the genocide I began talking online to someone in Europe. He told me to ask for help if I needed it and a year later I asked for support to cover my tuition fees, which I needed to complete the MBA I had been taking at the Islamic University of Gaza. When poisonous insects and the heat grew too much for my family of ten, living together in our tent, and with my young brother being bitten badly by mosquitoes, he organised a group of friends in Europe to help cover a down-payment for us to move into a damaged but permanent building in a safer area. He is still helping, but I know that for people outside Palestine, those who support us, money is also not always easy.
The israelis have stolen our daily life and so much more, I miss my friends and my old life of before, but despite the scars etched upon my soul, there is a steadfast belief that one day, I will breathe the air of a peaceful existence.
Each hardship, each shattered dream, only fuels the flame of resilience within me. In the midst of a world often marred by conflict, my dream remains unwavering – a quiet life where the only echoes are those of serenity, and where the displaced find solace, not in the streets, but in the warmth of a home. The journey is long, the road arduous, but hope, resilience and unyielding, guides me forward.