[News] Gaza diary part 48: ‘Oh my God, you are alive!’

[GL HERO SHIMA]

Ziad, a 35-year-old Palestinian, hears from a friend for the first time in five months and finds a seed of hope after days of being unable to leave his room

Saturday 2 March

2am I cannot take her words out of my head: the way she sounded well throughout the first part of our conversation and then how her voice was full of tears.

“I went to check on my mother, and I found her crying. When I asked her about the reason, she looked at me and said, ‘I am hungry. Very hungry’.”

My friend, a wonderful woman and mother of four young men, stayed with her family in the north. For five months I had tried to reach her but failed. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her number on my mobile.

“Oh my God, you are alive! Alive!” I said.

“And you are too!” she replied.

After a while, I dared to ask her about whether there is food and water available. She told me they haven’t had a vegetable in five months; that a small amount of flour costs hundreds of dollars; and how hard the situation has been for her and her family.

When she spoke about her mother, she couldn’t keep a steady, happy tone of voice and started crying. She told me that she wishes she could give her everything she wants. She shared with me that, one time, they were able to secure enough flour to prepare one loaf of bread for each of her sons.

“My sons ate half of their loaves and brought me the remaining halves, telling me it is for their grandmother. My youngest (11 years old) told me his two halves were not even, but he decided to give her the bigger one.”

When she asked me how we are doing, I couldn’t complain about the lack of food, or the high prices, or the diseases, or the stress we are going through, because I knew that whatever we (those who moved south) have been through, they have gone through much worse.

At the end of the conversation, she tries to joke: “My husband has always wanted to lose weight, yet he couldn’t. In the previous five months, he lost over 35kg [5st 7lb]!”

Before we ended our phone call, I told her how much I hope to see her again. I told her that whenever I think of her, I remember the video she posted reacting to her eldest son’s results in high school. In Gaza, all high school students go through general unified exams that they must pass to enrol into universities. There was a trend on social media to document the minute they received their results and grades, while showing the reaction of their proud parents. I remember how she jumped in the air, eyes full of tears and joy and how she and her husband hugged their son.

Another thing I will always remember is the day she came to me and told me that she and her husband were finally able to pay the first instalment for their new home. A home, unfortunately, they had to evacuate from.

8am I have been avoiding everything recently. Going out, talking to people, and “living” in general. I stay in the room and do nothing. I am tired of everything that is going on around me, of how inhumane and miserable our life is. My goal for each day is for its hours to finish and to cross it off the calendar. I want the hours and days to pass until we reach a moment where we are told that this nightmare is over.

I wondered if what I am going through is depression, but then I kicked the idea away because of that little, yet strong, seed of hope I have in my soul that, whenever it flies away due to hard times we are going through, finds its way to land back over my heart and pushes me to have positive thoughts and wish for a better future.

One time, I was watching an episode of a TV show called Killing Eve when one of the characters says “grief makes us strangers, even to ourselves”. Even though the sentence was mentioned briefly, without any focus on it in the episode, it stuck in my head. I guess what I am going through is grief, but a different kind of grief. One mixed with stress, fear, loss and severe sadness.

My plan of isolation is cut from time to time when I go to get, or do something important. This time, it was about little Hope, the cat we found in the street. I received a message from the guy who has been hosting the cat for over a month now. He told me that he couldn’t keep him any more. His message terrified me because I was not sure we will be able to find another home for him.

I started calling everyone I know. “You do know that complete families are displaced without a shelter, not even a tent, to protect them?” a friend said. “And you are looking for a place for the cat?”

A couple of friends offered to take him in, but both went to consult with their spouses – and both returned back with negative results (their spouses were afraid of cats and refused). Another friend introduced me to a man who said he is willing to take him in, but asked for a monthly allowance and we couldn’t agree on a price, so it did not work out.

Finally, a friend told me that her relative, whose family is displaced with hers in the same place, wants to take him in.

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2024/mar/06/gaza-diary-part-48-oh-my-god-you-are-alive