ZIAD IN GAZA

 

I was able to get a weak internet connection, and a series of WhatsApp messages on my building’s group showed up. I found out that a relative of one of the attendants was able to go and check on our building. He said that the building is still standing, yet in a horrible situation.

The damage is severe, and it might take a year just to fix it to be able to stay there if we go back. All the glass is broken and everything is damaged. He also said that displaced people from other areas have gotten into the apartments and took the clothes, mattresses and wood items to survive and burn for warmth. They took anything edible.

We have a proverb that says: “A loss is better in money than in souls” – meaning that as long as you are alive, any tangible loss is less awful. But I have to admit that this wasn’t what I felt at that moment. I shared the news with my sister, who was devastated.

I couldn’t stay in my place, I couldn’t breathe well. I found myself going out and heading towards a friend of mine, who has evacuated to a family far from where we are staying. But I did not care.

I was walking so fast that I was surprised by the short time it took me to reach there. I found his relative downstairs and asked him to go call my friend. He came down and saw my face and knew something was wrong.

“Is everything OK? Are you OK?”

“I want to walk.”

We started walking. I told him everything that I’d heard while tears were falling down from my eyes. People in the street looked at me without surprise. These days it has become very usual to see people crying in the street; no one even needs to ask you about the reason. My friend did his best to calm me down.

In that hour I grew 20 years older. My fast-paced steps turned into very slow ones. I was not able to breathe well. I could feel the skin over my face and body wilt like a sunflower that decided to give up after its sun disappeared and it was left in darkness for a very long time. I knew for sure at that moment that I will not be the same person again.

 

 

Yesterday, my sister showed Ahmad some photos and video from the apartment. She wanted to show him how small the cats were compared with now. When I saw them, my heart ached. I saw the tiles, I saw the walls, I saw the Christmas tree we put up, I saw the windows, the furniture and many other details.

After a while, I couldn’t stop moving, so I forced myself to sit down. Right in the middle of the street. My friend, who was calming me down, sat next to me and started crying.

He told me about the news of several family members of his dying; he told me about his parents and brothers who stayed in the north and after many days of trying to reach them he knew that they are still alive yet suffering.

His mother told him that they are OK, but when he talked to his young niece, she told him they haven’t had drinking water in a very long time and there is little food left.

I tried to calm him down. I just couldn’t comprehend the amount of misery we are surrounded by.