ZIAD IN GAZA

 

I have always been impressed by those who are eloquent with words; who have the capacity to express their inner thoughts precisely. I recall a message between me and a friend who lives abroad, I told her that the situation is getting worse. In her response she put the word “getting” into brackets. I understood what she meant, for three months the situation has been awful. But what English word to use after bad? Worse? Worst? There are no stronger words to show the situation continues to deteriorate.

Just when you think that you hit the rock bottom, you realise you were wrong. There is always a new low. Whether it is dignity-wise, basic needs-wise or just living.

I miss a life where I would sleep on a bed, go to work, drink clean water, eat something I like of my own choice, meet friends and go back to the same bed and watch something online or read a book.

I miss a life where mothers can walk in the streets and let their children run in front of them, enjoying the fresh air and, later, enjoy delicious foods and sweets. I miss a life where children have other children around, to play with, become friends, and start creating beautiful memories for their future.

That life seems very distant and unrealistic. A fairytale I no longer think can exist.