
Dust, Mosquitos and War
Next to me, in the same school room where I sleep, separated from my uncle's wife by a curtain, she and her daughter sleep. All night, she wakes up saying, "Go away, go away," referring to the mosquito.
Next to me, in the same school room where I sleep, separated from my uncle's wife by a curtain, she and her daughter sleep. All night, she wakes up saying, "Go away, go away," referring to the mosquito.
I ask myself what sin I committed for all this death to chase us so gruesomely. My friends in Rafah also do not know where to go; many of them are on the streets without shelter. Everyone here has their dreams crushed like bones under the impact of rockets.
I would always cry after such a phone call, but her voice today is stronger than before. Perhaps that has to do with her returning to her home in Al Shuja'iyya after months of displacement in multiple locations. Her powerful voice made me feel powerful. Because of her I am writing now.
This is a call to the Arab nations, Gaza is capable of exporting a one of a kind juice. But it tastes bitter, like the bitterness of the days we are living. A juice to remind them of what it means to be Arab.
We couldn’t find Nour the first time around, but we were able to find the sea, which we had been deprived of for four months due to the aggression. We felt like the siege inside of us had been lifted for a few hours.
Life is full of many blessings that humans lean towards. This abundance of blessings holds wisdom for people in choosing what they seek instinctively. What you accept may not suit me and the opposite is true, in all cases and searches.