ZIAD IN GAZA

 

For the first time since this whole nightmare started, I went to the sea. I forgot how vast and blue it is. It was like meeting an old friend. Everywhere around was packed; people are everywhere. I bet if you take a photo from a bird’s view, all you are going to see is big numbers of heads in the shape of dots, with few spaces available.

I sat on the sand and saw a big family by the shore. The women were filling buckets of water, and washing dishes and dirty clothes, while the men went shirtless into the sea with their trousers rolled up above the knees to wash.

I saw a man and his son sleeping on a piece of cloth right under the burning sun. I felt sorry for them that they had nothing to cover their faces with. I remembered a discussion I had with Ahmad, the middle son of our host family, about his continuous back pain from sleeping on the ground. He told me that having a roof over his head when he sleeps is a thousand times better than sleeping in a tent or being displaced in schools. He said that we are really blessed.

Ahmad keeps surprising me with his acts of kindness. A couple of days ago, he went out and gathered all the children and gave them balloons. He knows all the children, even the ones of the displaced families. And they, and their parents, know him. When he went up, his niece knocked on the door several times to tell him that children who did not get balloons have showed up. He gave her some to give to them.

On the shore, there were many people walking. I saw a couple holding hands. I think they are really strong. The fact that they have the ability to express their affection to each other during these horrible times is impressive.

There were also children playing with kites, but not normal ones. They were kites made of sewing thread and, instead of pieces of cloth, they had actual notebook papers with homework written on them.

They say it is always about the perspective you have when you look or observe a certain situation. At that moment, I looked at the whole scene from the perspective of an exhausted guy crushed by the cruelty of life. I couldn’t see the beauty of the children playing, nor the couple of lovers walking or the acts of survival of displaced people to maintain the bare minimum standards of hygiene, nutrition or shelter. I only saw the empty gazes of people towards the nowhere; I saw sadness all over the place. I saw people with eyes full of tears, I saw those who are desperate for a moment of peace during these chaotic times.

I stayed for around two hours. Then I stood up and left.