Thursday 19 October
8am I managed to sleep for four hours. It has been a long time since I achieved that. My friends, who always send me messages in the morning to check if I am still alive, or in their own words “just to see how you are doing”, were happy to hear the great news.
I tried to wake up but couldn’t. I felt as if I had no bones left, my body was soft and floppy. Every time I tried to raise my head up, it would sink back into the pillow. I felt like a big bowl of Jell-O.
Speaking of Jell-O, I really miss sweets. I have been trying to stay healthy and cut down on sugar, but if I get out of this I will definitely give myself a sweet-treat day. I will eat vanilla and dark chocolate ice-cream; I love the combination between sweet and bitter. Also, I would love to eat knafa, a traditional Arab sweet made with spun pastry, filled with cheese and soaked with syrup. In Gaza we are special, we have our own version – filled with nutmeg, nuts and cinnamon instead of cheese. I could eat a ton of it right now!
10am The children, along with their cousin, decide to pay us a visit in the room. The youngest, Laila, brings me her notebook to show me the letters of the alphabet she is practising. At the beginning of each section, her grandmother has drawn a big version of the letter for her to colour. She made me go through all the pages, and was very proud.
While sharing their stories, one of them brings up the topic of a man with a hearing disability. I tell them a disability is not about your body not being able to perform a certain function, but about not providing the means for the people to have a normal life.
I wonder how people with disability are coping during these terrible times. With the lack of electricity and light, how will a person with a hearing disability be able to use sign language? What if they were separated from their family and found themselves in one of the shelters (if they are lucky) – do they know where to get water and what services are available? Is there a sign language interpreter there?
What about those with a physical disability? Can they easily move, or even evacuate, with no lifts or ramps? Gaza was not designed to meet the needs of people with disability in the first place, but now it is much worse. It saddens me that even in miserable times, some people have better access and support than others.
Noon My wonderful friend who is living abroad sends me a message saying that her Christian mother has activated “a prayer army” for me, my sister and our loved ones, and we are protected in her bubble. I thank her very much and ask her to include our cats in the bubble too.
As a Muslim, I’m blessed to have Christian friends among my close circle. We are always there for each other in good and bad times. They include me in their weddings and children’s baptisms. Right now, the churches of Gaza are hosting Muslim and Christian families.
I have always believed in the power of prayer no matter what your religion or beliefs. Even for my atheist friends, I ask them to send me positive thoughts. I believe that love, in all its shapes and forms, is capable of changing this world and making it a much better place.
2pm I go with Ahmad, the middle son, to get some stuff for the house. On our way, we see a boy of about 14, walking with what seems like his two younger sisters. They are holding bags of crisps in their hands, unopened. In a teasing manner, he tells them: “Eat your crisps before we get bombed and die.” His words hit me hard.
Later, the grandmother who was out of the house almost all day joined us for coffee. She had been visiting her own family to help prepare bread with them, as many people had sought refuge in their home. She told us about how her oldest grandchild, Radwa, reacted to the escalation: “In the first couple of days she stopped eating, and she rarely spoke. We were terrified. Till now she is still scared, but at least she interacts with others and eats well.”
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How many years of psychosocial support will be required to help these children process the many traumas they have been through?
6pm From the window I see a bird land on a nearby tree. In my house, my sister has plants on the balcony where birds come for shade and food. She spreads birdfood for them. The first time we evacuated, my sister was relieved that she had just watered the plants. She worried about them all the time. A few days ago, late at night, it rained and my sister was glad. She told me that the rainwater washed the plants, they were taken care of.
I thought of the bird who chose this land when it has the whole world to pick from. I wish I were a bird with no borders or limits, spreading my wings and living my life to the max, loving and feeling loved … I wish.
10pm The grandmother opens the door without knocking. I was lying on the couch, but got up with a start.
“I am sorry,” she said. “A church was bombed, and you told me you have friends there.”
We immediately checked and knew which church. My friend has been staying there with his family. I call him immediately, the phone rings …
“Are you OK?” I scream.
“No, I am not. They bombed the church.”
“I heard the fucking news! Are your wife and daughter fine?”
“They are. My parents are fine, too. They did not bomb the side we were at. But there are people under the rubble. We are trying to get them out. I gotta go. Tell our friends I am OK.”
In Gaza, no place is safe, not even churches.
