ZIAD IN GAZA

 The members of the second family we fled to, the ones who discovered recently that their house had been destroyed, were able to leave Gaza. As holders of dual-nationality passports, their names were approved over a month ago. Yet, they refused to leave at first and wanted to stay. Then they reached a stage where there was nothing left for them. They had no options, they left.

I think of them and the others who left. I think of their last messages while they were in Gaza. Apologetic ones saying they feel as if they are betraying the rest of Gazans and letting them down by leaving. Despite their misery, they still feel horrible for leaving, for having a chance at being alive. Some of them were crying, some of them were talking in a hurry. I remember telling every single one of them to leave and never look back, to save themselves.

A couple of friends called me from Egypt a day or two after they arrived. They sounded completely different. They sounded like normal people, who had a good night’s sleep, who are not talking while worrying they might be bombed at any minute. They sounded like people who have had a good meal, of their own choice, and maybe they had some dessert, too. Instead of referring to all of us collectively as “we”, they have started referring to us as “you”, and to themselves as “we”.

Right now, everyone is so lacking in hope that they don’t wish the situation to be over, they just wish that they or everyone will be able to leave Gaza.