ZIAD IN GAZA

 

I am walking with Ahmad when we pass a bombed house. The house has collapsed and looks like a pile of giant Lego pieces. The surprising part is that there is one part of the house that is still perfectly fine – the kitchen and the room next to it on the second floor fell in one piece over the rubble. Even the kitchen sink is perfectly fine.

I stop for a while to look at the scene and think of the owners and how they would feel every time they pass by. I bet there have been a lot of happy moments in that kitchen, cooking meals for family gatherings, and maybe gossiping about what’s happening. The next room could be a playroom for the children or maybe a teenager lying on their bed thinking of their crush. Then it hits me: did the residents of the house make it out alive? Or were they sleeping when it happened?