One Small Miracle In Gaza

Past

We've had Maths already, which was run by the much nicer woman in the white hijab who told us to remain seated and keep still and then we would all get along fine. She still had held a large ruler, but she'd thwacked it against her palm absentmindedly whilst she'd told us to call her Khalti, Auntie, and nothing more. She smiles at us then, but I shiver as she does because I can't see any sign of life behind her eyes.

"Now go play outside," she says at the end of multiplying dead Jews, all splattered across the chalkboard. "Nada, stay here a moment please."But before you go, some instructions."

I sit still in my seat while everyone else begins to run outside. I look down. She has found out. She is going to punish me. Changing schools would never do it. I am trembling and I look up. The ruler is back and her eyes have turned from empty to severe.

"Nada, you are new here. Do not go beyond the line of bricks at either side of the school. Do you understand me? The back of the school is strictly off limits."

I nod, and my heart palpitates. Off-limits. And I feel my hands begin to itch, my legs suddenly feeling like they can't stay still a moment longer. When is she going to mention Father? When is she going to hit me?

I brace myself, waiting, but all she does is let out a sigh, nod her head in the direction of the door and say, "Go."

And so I do.

Outside, everyone has already raced to the two rusted swings and the two boys are on them, swinging high and shouting insults at the rest of us.

I approach the crowd, and my skin again prickles. There is a tension in the air. Then a stone is thrown at one of the boys, and just like that, the kids rush forward in a mob, grabbing the swings and knocking the boys off of them. Soon, fists are flying.

I'm right in the middle of it, or nearly in the middle, and I can feel the blows descending on me too, and suddenly I can't breathe and there's no daylight above me. I want to get out. I don't want to be in the middle.

I duck down and cover my head, turning around and trying to push my way through the flailing legs.

There is a blow that hits hard to my stomach and I curl into a protective ball.

Another blow comes to my head this time. I curl away. I shut my eyes tight...

"Stop it, now!"

The kicks immediately stop. Bodies shift.

"Listen to me!"

The voice is deep and demanding and ringing and for that reason we all freeze and those of who can, turn our heads. I struggle to my feet, still crouching, and peak out from beneath the sweaty armpits of two boys.

"Get away from there, now," says the man.

He pulls out a gun and the mood immediately shifts. We part like Moses' Red Sea, heads down as we stare at our feet.

When will Khalti come out? I begin to shake.

The man takes a step towards us.

"Children," he says, holding his gun up in the air. "We are all Gazans, aren't we?"

We nod, color rising in all of our faces.

"We are all Palestinians, aren't we?"

We nod again. The two boys in the center, the ones who got pummeled, nod especially vigorously.

"And we have only one enemy. Only one!" he shouts.

We nod again.

"Do you know who that enemy is?" he asks.

No one says anything. The gun is still menacing, raised high above his head.

He takes a step forward, then another. My head is still down but I can hear him, and my hands are crossed in front of me, hoping, just hoping he will not stop in front of me.

Two boots appear just centimeters from my shoes.

I hear the rustling of khaki and then there's a cool, dirty hand on my chin, forcing it upward.

His eyes. I will never forget his eyes.

"Who is our only enemy?" he asks, those dark empty eyes driving straight into mine.

"The Jews," I say, faltering and praying to Allah I get it right and he doesn't blow my brains out immediately.

He pauses for a moment, then a smile spreads across his face.

"Bravo little one," he says, stretching upward again as he pats my head. The gun is now at his side, dangling loosely from his other hand.

"Did you all hear?" he asks.

We all nod.

"What did she say?"

"The Jews," everyone chants in a chorus.

He sets his feet shoulder-width apart, then puts his hands on his hips. Now, I have the courage to look at him, to really take him in, and I can see his beard is flecked with grey. I can see there is a long knife wound down his left cheek. How come I hadn't noticed that when he was close? I don't know.

"So we will not fight amongst ourselves anymore, understood?"

We all nod.

"We will not land pointless punches anymore, understood?"

"We must fight together, die together, to defeat our one enemy, the Jews! Understood?"

We all nod.

"I said understood?" he shouts.

We all cheer, although it is forced. One boy shouts "Allahu Akbar," then others repeat it. My body still aches from the kicks and my cheeks are still burning. Burning at the fact this old man touched me. Burning at the fact I'd betrayed my country this way. Burning at the fact I am who I am, and here, I am trying to hide it.

"Good," he says. "And if I ever find you fighting this way again, here, then I will not be so gentle," he says. Then he turns and walks in the small alley between the wire fence and the edge of the school, disappearing from view.

My breath catches in my throat. Tears rise to my eyes. I want to sit down, but I can't. I want to melt into a puddle, but I can't physically do that either.

Just then, I catch sight of the black-hijab woman tucked behind a corner of the main school, inhaling a cigarette and then puffing out smoke.

My insides boil. How could she just stand there? How could she let this man wave a gun at us?

Just then she turns her head, casts one bored look at us, drops her cigarette into the concrete below her and snubs it out with her foot.

The walls close around me, and suddenly I know. I will go behind the school myself and find out just what it is this man is doing here.