ZIAD IN GAZA

 

 

8am Falafel is one of the most popular traditional foods in Gaza. We call it “the poor people’s food” because it is cheap. Palestinians who travel abroad are surprised at the prices of falafel sandwiches, and I know I speak for everyone in Gaza when I say that we believe the ones made in Gaza are the best.

Luckily for us, in the area we evacuated to there were two shops selling falafel. Unfortunately, one closed soon after we arrived because the owner ran out of gas. But we are among the few neighbourhoods that still have the luxury of getting falafel. The remaining shop works two shifts, one in the morning and one from 3 to 5pm. They no longer sell sandwiches, only falafel, since getting bread is very difficult. I usually go in the evening, because until recently we didn’t eat breakfast. I would wait for about 45 minutes to get my order, but it is OK: now you have to wait for everything, if it is available.

Today, I decide to get some falafel for breakfast. I thought I went early, but the line is so long. I am told that people start queueing shortly after 6am to secure a spot. I try to count how many people are ahead of me and get tired after 85. I see my friend so we stand together and decide to spend “the journey of getting falafel” together. I send a message to my sister telling her it will probably take me a long time to return.

8.30am “In the sea?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes,” my friend answers.

We are talking about how miserable the situation is for people displaced in schools and hospitals. While waiting in line, I noticed a lot of flies buzzing around the neck of a man standing ahead of us. It is no surprise – people haven’t had access to hygiene facilities for more than a month now. Only the lucky ones have access to water, or at least money to buy deodorant.

My friend tells me that some displaced people who are next to the sea go there to wash themselves. “You would see mostly men and children. But even women go there to clean themselves. I know how annoying it is to have the remains of the salty seawater over your body, but it is better than being filthy.”

9am We have moved a little forward. My friend starts having a conversation with two men about six or seven places ahead of us. I take the opportunity to make some phone calls, checking on my friends. I can’t reach most of them due to the unreliable connection – at least that is what I tell myself, trying not to think about any bad thing that could have happened to them overnight. Finally, I get through to one who is a pharmacist.

Pharmacists these days are suffering. In the absence of effective hospitals and clinics, and with the difficulties in seeing a doctor, people go to pharmacies for medical support.

Every time I go to the pharmacy, which is a lot these days, I see pharmacists checking children, adults’ aches and pains, and hearing different symptoms of sick people, some of which are very complicated. People hope to get something to help them survive until they can see a doctor.

My friend tells me about a customer of his who called to remind him that she owed him some money, and she wanted him to forgive her in case something bad happened to her. “I was surprised. I told her that of course I forgave her, and we would meet after this is all over and she can pay me. Unfortunately, two days later, she and her family died.”

10am Standing in line, several arguments start about people jumping the queue. The owner of the shop has to come out and maintain order. It feels as if he is a school principal, but I understand that he wants things to move smoothly. Apparently, this situation has been going on for a month now. I was lucky not to eat breakfast before.

The shop owner is a kind guy. He makes his shop available to everyone to come and charge their phones and UPS batteries. One time I was passing and saw hundreds of devices connected to cords inside and outside the shop.

I think of the owner of another shop I was at the other day. I joked with him: “I bet us people who came from Gaza City or the north are annoying you now, so many of us and all our needs.” He smiled and said: “Not at all. If we don’t welcome you in the difficult times, when will we? You are people in need and it is our duty to help.” I later found out that he and his wife had left their home and moved in with their son to allow families from Gaza City to stay in his place.

10.30am We are still waiting in line. I ask my friend about his family and he says they are OK. He says: “I was talking to a friend and he wanted to tell me about something that happened to my house. I shut him up and asked him not to finish his sentence. If something happened to my house, I don’t want to know about it now. If we get out of this alive, I will deal with it later. I have no space to mourn the loss of my house.”

11am After standing in line for hours, they let groups of people enter, buy their falafel and leave. Now, we are inside with about 20 other people. No line any more, so everyone tries to get their order first. Everyone is frustrated. I hear a man saying that if it were up to him, he wouldn’t even eat, but he needs to get breakfast for his children “and there are no other options”.

 

11.30am We get the falafel. On our way out, the people still waiting jokingly start shouting: “Congratulations!” and saying phrases usually said when someone has a new baby.

Since the beginning of the whole situation, I have not taken a single picture of myself or anyone else. I believe that pictures are a way to keep great memories to look back on, but from these days there is nothing great or beautiful to remember.

However, I ask my friend if we could take a picture. “Looking like this?” he asks. I say yes. I suggest we get the falafel in the picture, but he refuses – he has boundaries. We put the falafel down and take the picture. I smile from ear to ear. I an not happy, and I am not pretending to be. But I have a positive feeling, I don’t know what it is, it is just that I saw my friend, we talked, we are still alive. It is a new day (or to be more precise, the middle of a new day now), and – we got falafel!