ZIAD IN GAZA

 

A new family joined us. They say it is temporary, but I don’t believe it. Over two months ago, when my sister and I evacuated for the third time, we thought it was temporary. It seems there is no end to our misery, it will just get worse. The family consists of a mother and her children – two teenage boys and one young girl. They are relatives of the host family. Them joining means even less space, less resources and more fear. But that is all OK. What scares me the most is all of us having to evacuate again. There is no place to go to.

I know many friends who had to distribute themselves over several places due to their big numbers or the fact that no single place can contain them. I saw a friend of mine in the street who told me that a part of his family went to the schools, he joined his friends in a studio apartment, another part went to relatives, and a few had a tent in an open area. When I hear things like this I wish that this is all a part of a novel or a soap opera, because it cannot be true.

I ask him how they keep in touch during the horrible and continuous communication cuts. He says that they try to send messages from time to time, and when the communication is completely shut down, they just go and visit each other. They go on foot, without any coordination, which means that he could walk for an hour and then not find anyone in their place because they are out trying to secure flour, water or wood to burn for warmth and cooking.

“But we are fine,” he says. “We are better than others. When I went to visit my family who are staying in a tent, I saw another family who told me that the only thing they ate in the last three days was raw onions. They had no money and couldn’t find any help.” I knew from him that he got them some food, which I am grateful for.