ZIAD IN GAZA

 11am Ahmad and I are going back to his home after buying medicine and food when we see a group of cats in the land next to where he lives. Ahmad goes back to the shop and buys some mortadella to feed them.

All the cats are standing at a distance. When Ahmad throws the pieces they come, pick them up and run away. However, one cat approaches us and is friendly, but the closer it comes, the more shocked we become. The cat has lost an eye, has been bitten all over her ears and has marks across her body. It’s clear she’s a house pet that has been abandoned.

Ahmad’s nephew and two nieces see us, so they come down and start helping feed the cats. Apparently, they’ve assigned each one of the cats a funny name. This one, they’ve called Manara, which means lighthouse. They tell me that she only appeared a few days ago, which makes me think that the owners have left in a hurry, or maybe their house was bombed. We play with it for a while and then go home.

I tell my sister what happened, and we ask around to see if someone can help, but in these times, nobody can. We agree to take care of the cat by giving it food, morning and night. I’m not satisfied though and suggest we keep it with us until we can find a safe place. My sister says that’s hard, as we are staying in one room, in someone else’s house, and are not sure what the future holds, plus we already have two cats who are our priority, and we just cannot take an extra one. I can’t disagree with her because everything she says is right.

4pm I’m trying to sleep, especially as I couldn’t sleep at all during the night due to the bombing. I hear a knock on the door and the grandmother comes in, she says: “You have a guest.”

Reaching the house we are in is not that easy. Before getting in, you need to take some stairs up, then turn a couple of times and go up to the first floor.

I stand up and go to the door and see Manara the cat. I can’t believe it. Did she follow us? No way, we saw her hours ago. I go to the room and ask my sister, who is on the phone, to end the call and come.

When my sister comes out and sees the cat, she covers her mouth with her hands and starts to cry. I look at her and say: “If this isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”

We agree, standing there at the door, to take the cat in, and keep it with us until the situation is over, and until we find her a safe place and good people to take care of her. We give her food, my sister tries to clean her, and we watch her sleep.

My sister tries reaching any vets in the area. Since we don’t live here, we don’t know anyone. After many calls, she’s able to reach someone. He promises to try to check on the cat. Hopefully, things will go well.

I look at my sister and say: “This cat is sent to us from God. Now, I am relieved.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I mean, maybe this cat is the mercy we receive to get us out of this whole situation. And even if we die, we will die on a good note … having done something good.”

7pm Today has been horrible. We hear the news about more areas evacuating. There is uncertainty all over the place. Everyone is suffering because of the lack of electricity and water. The fear is increasing. Bad news everywhere.

But, deep inside, today I felt good because today we’ve been adopted by Manara, our lighthouse.