ZIAD IN GAZA

 A decision that you are forced to make is not a decision. That was my thought while my sister and I waited for the man who was coming to take Manara. It kills me that we are going to send her away, but we have no option. In addition to the fact that she is pregnant and might give birth soon – which is something we are not prepared for logistically or emotionally – her ruined eye still bleeds from time to time, which means she needs a surgical intervention the minute the whole nightmare is over.

The man who came to take her is somebody we fully trust: an animal lover, he never hesitates to save animals or do what is best for them. For over three months we did not have access to him due to the bad communications. Finally, we did, and he, despite being displaced with his family, is offering Manara all the care he can provide.

We did not give him Manara only, but two additional cats as well. The first cat, I found the day before and his back leg is broken. When I saw him in the street, I hoped he was just standing there, but on my way back, hours later, he was still in the same spot, so, I brought him with me. The second cat is a kitten that appeared around a week ago out of nowhere. We couldn’t find his mother.

I tried to speak to Manara, to apologise for letting her down and not taking care of her in the best way. As if she knew what was about to happen, she refused to even look at me, and she was very anxious. When the man showed up, he took one look at her and said: “She will give birth within seven to 10 days.”

The two other cats showed no resistance, yet Manara fought and meowed very loudly. She did not want to leave. She must think that we were abandoning her. We let her in, took good care of her, and now, at a very vulnerable situation – the last days of her pregnancy – we are letting her go with someone she does not know to an unknown destination. She must think we are the most horrible people in the world. She did not know how difficult the whole thing is for us. We need a better chance for her and her babies. A chance we cannot guarantee if she stayed with us.

I don’t know why, but the minute the car moved, the words of a friend played in my head. I got the chance to talk to her in mid-November, a month after the whole thing started. By then, she and her family had been displaced twice. She told me how she never physically disciplines her daughter, but when she does something wrong, she would take her tablet device away from her and not allow her to go visit her best friend.

“My daughter thinks that I am punishing her,” my friend said. “She begs me to see her friend or give her her stuff that we left behind in our house when we evacuated. I tried to explain to her over and over that she did not do anything wrong. But her little mind couldn’t grasp what is actually happening. I feel extremely guilty.”

My heart aches, for Manara, for my sister, my friend and her daughter, and for every person who suffered and is still suffering.