ZIAD IN GAZA

 While I was out, a couple I know came by. My sister welcomed them. “They did not stay long. They just passed by to give us the leftovers of two canned meat cans,” she tells me. “Since they know there are cats around us in the land, and they know how scarce food is to feed them, they decided to bring the leftovers to feed to the cats..”

I look at the leftovers and the amount is enough to feed one cat. I was amazed, because I know that they are staying in a place that is relatively far, which means they walked for a while to reach us, just to give us the food.

I go out of the house andfind Moonlight. Moonlight is the deaf cat that my sister and her friend found and brought to stay in the nearby land. The neighbours are no longer surprised when they see my sister holding a cat and bringing it to the land.

I am grateful that Moonlight’s food arrived for him, despite the small quantity and the far place. I am happy that some people are still thinking of animals, despite these extremely tough times.

2pm I was sitting with a group of friends when a friend of theirs joins us. “I have three daughters, the youngest one was eight months old when the whole nightmare started,” she says. “Can you imagine that during these three months, she learned how to crawl, then sit by herself, then walk. I wish I had the chance to film her when she walked for the first time, just like her two other sisters.”

Later on, everyone at the table starts sharing videos on their mobile phones of happy moments. One woman shares a video from her home while her family were dancing to music; I share a video from a friend’s wedding party; another guy shares a video of his last trip.

Then another woman picks up her phone and starts showing us the different meals that she used to make. Watching these makes us scream at least once or twice. I tell her that once this is all over, I am inviting myself to her house for three consecutive days to try the steak that her husband makes, the pasta she makes and maftool (a traditional Palestinian dish) that her mother makes and sends to them.

I keep thinking about the many first moments that every one of us has lost, and the beautiful memories that were a reality three months ago. Yet, now they are videos and photos of people I am not sure I could recognise any more.