ZIAD IN GAZA

 Wide awake, I am trying to understand the feeling or state I am in. One thing I know for sure is that it’s not the first time I have had this feeling; I know I have had it once before. One time only. But I cannot tell when.

More than two months have passed; just when you think you have reached the worst point, you get surprised by a new low. The last three days have been unimaginable. Many of the people who fled their houses once and twice and three times had to flee again. There are no places left. Complete families are in the streets. Women and children are there with nothing to protect them. My friend who, till this moment, couldn’t believe how fast things had moved, tells me: “We are like animals now, in the wild. I am terrified for my newborn child.”

It could be anyone any time. Everyone keeps asking about places to host them or their loved ones knowing very well the answer.

The closed shops are scary. They had previously been almost empty, but they were open with a non-essential product or two. Now, they are shut. There is nothing left. Street sellers who have an item or two are asking crazy prices. These days, even money has no value. You have money, yet you cannot buy anything. Also, everyone is sick. Fever and flu due to lack of proper housing conditions; backache due to carrying heavy stuff and sitting positions while waiting in lines; stomach ache due to the unsanitary food and lack of healthy water.

I am trying to figure out the feeling I have got. I know I have had it before. Suddenly I remember. It was years ago when I saw a photo. A photo of a Sudanese child during a famine. He or she was on the ground, unable to walk due to exhaustion, and a vulture was waiting, very close, for death so it could eat.

That is how I feel. On the ground, unable to move, my face down. The emptiness inside me; the weakness and helplessness. All unbearable. There is no energy left to hope. Despite all the chaos around me, there is horrible silence inside my heart and soul. It feels like a desert; nothing visible; waiting for death, silently.