I’ve been thinking about writing my will.
I didn’t think I would feel that close to death. I said death would come suddenly, but we didn’t feel it, but during this war they made us feel it all… slowly.
We suffer before it happens, as we expect your home to be bombed.
It may still be standing since the beginning of the war, but that sense of fear remains within you. This fear wore my mind until I felt like I couldn’t handle anything more.
Since the beginning of the war, I have struggled with the Israeli army being close to us. I remember the moment Tanks entered the Netzarim area. I sent a message to all my friends. I was shocked.
As we always knew, I was waiting for them to withdraw from Gaza. Now they are very close to where I am, east of Alfkali, Khan Yunis, and north of Rafa. That’s the point where Khan Eunice ends and Rafa begins.
They are so close, they let us hear horrible explosions every moment, enduring those endless sounds.
This war is different, so it’s not what I’ve experienced before.
Please remember my story
I don’t want to be a number.
It’s stuck in my head as I saw a martyr called an “unknown man” or placed in a massive tomb. Some of them are even parts of the body that were unable to identify.
Do you think that the only one who says to my shroud is “a young woman in a black/blue blouse”?
Can I die as an “unknown person”?
I want everyone around me to remember my story. I’m not a number.
I am a girl who studied in high school and university under exceptional circumstances under which Gaza was under a very severe siege. I completed college and searched for jobs everywhere to help my father, who was exhausted from the siege and lost his job several times.
I was the eldest daughter of my family and wanted to help my father.
Wait… I don’t want to forget anything.
I am a refugee. My grandparents were refugees who were forced to leave our occupied territory in 1948 by Israeli occupation.
They moved to the Gaza Strip and lived in the Khan Eunice refugee camp west of the city.
I was born in that camp, but the Israeli army did not let me continue my life there.
They destroyed our home in 2000 and we were left without shelter for two years. We moved from one uninhabitable home to another until Unrwa gave us another home in Al-Fukhari in 2003.
All the farmlands were there, and they tried to build their life in a neighbourhood named “European Houses” after the European hospital there.
The house was small and it was not enough for a family of five to have a father and mother. The extra room, living room and kitchen required work.
Anyway, I’ve lived there for about 12 years and started working around 2015 to help my dad as soon as possible.
I helped him live in the home comfortably. Yes, we achieved that, but it was very difficult. The house was completed just three months before October 7th, 2023.
Yes, for nearly a decade I spent rebuilding a piece according to our financial capabilities, and we were able to finish it just before the war.
When the war came, I was already exhausted from the siege in Gaza and the difficulties of life. Then the war drained me completely, honing my mind, and I began to lose my focus.
I run and wake up
Since the beginning of the war, we have fought for something.
We fight for survival, fight to not die from hunger and thirst, fight to not lose our hearts from the fears we witnessed and experienced.
We will always try to survive. We experienced evacuation – in my life, I lived in four houses, all of which went near artillery fire by the Israeli army.
There is no safe place. Before the ceasefire, we lived in 500 days of pure fear.
Unfortunately, I cried what I didn’t do during the war. I continued to get stronger, and I kept my sadness and anger inside. It exhausted my mind and weakened it even further.
I was positive and supported everyone around me. Yes, people from the north are coming back. Yes, the Army will withdraw from Netzarim. I wanted to empower everyone, but there was a major weakness within me that I didn’t want to show.
If that was shown, I felt that I would perish in this terrible war.
The ceasefire was my great hope for survival. I felt like I made it. The war is over.
When people wondered: “Will the war come back?” I replied with confidence, “No, I don’t think it will. The war is over.”
The war is back, but it’s closer than ever. I lived through the continued fear brought about by the never-ending fires. They used all sorts of weapons against us – rockets, shells from planes, tanks. The tanks continued to fire, and the surveillance drones continued to fly. Everything was scary.
I hadn’t slept for more than a week. If I dozed, I would wake up to the sound of an explosion. I don’t know where I’m going, but I run through the house.
With constant panic I wondered if it would endure more.
So I’ll message all my friends and ask them to talk about my story so that I’m not just a number.
We are spending our days unbearable as Israeli forces destroy the neighbours around me. Many families still live here. Evacuation is physically, financially and mentally exhausting, so they don’t want to leave.
The first displacement I remember was in 2000 when I was about 8 years old.
The Israeli army bulldozers came to Khan Eunice’s camp and destroyed my uncle’s house and grandfather’s. Then, for some reason, they stopped by our house.
So we left. It was Ramadan and my parents thought they could come back later. They found the aged shells of the houses we were temporarily evacuated.
We couldn’t stand the idea of losing our home, so we went back to our home with all the beautiful memories with our grandparents and grabbed some things to get back to our mother.
The Israeli army destroyed our home the night before Eid, and me and my family went there on the first day of Eid al-Fitr. I remember celebrating Eid with tile rub and wearing my new Eid costume.
The Israeli army had no way of keeping us anything. It destroys everything and only sadness remains in our hearts.
If the world doesn’t save us from this horrifying army, we don’t know what the future will be like.
I don’t know if my mind will survive these infinite sounds anymore. don’t forget me.
I fought so hard for my life. I have worked hard for ten years as a journalist and teacher and have dedicated myself.
I have a student I love and a colleague who has beautiful memories.
Living in Gaza has never been easy, but we cannot love it and love other homes.
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