ZIAD IN GAZA

 Most of the windows of the host family’s house are broken due to the bombing. When I open the toilet door, I realise that the medium-sized window there has fallen out, leaving a huge rectangular area of light and showing the window of the neighbouring building. I go backwards and return. The grandfather says: “Go inside and do your thing. I promise you nobody will look.” I politely decline, saying I will wait until it is covered.

There are many new things I have forced myself to get accustomed to since this whole horrible situation started, but relieving myself in an open area where people can watch is not one of them.