Shadow of Resistance

Chapter Twenty One

Two exhausting weeks drag by, filled with protests across the West Bank. Israeli forces are arresting many protesters, and they've barred worshippers from entering Al-Aqsa Mosque, which happens a lot without any reason. Every now and then, they announce that no one under 45 can enter, but now, they've completely blocked access. They are even attacking those who stayed inside. The streets are far too dangerous, so none of us have left the house for the entire period except my dad, who goes out only to get our essentials.

Also during the last week, there have been several rockets between Hamas and Israel that resulted in several casualties in Gaza. Ramadan ended and Eid started yesterday, but it didn't feel like Eid at all. We didn't go to the Eid prayer or eat our usual traditional festive food. Instead, we stayed in this room and ate some canned food.

14 May, after the Friday prayers, the Palestinians were protesting in every place in the West Bank. The streets were full of people carrying signboards calling for stopping the assaults on Al-Aqsa mosque. We feel Israel could start a heavy attack on the West Bank at any moment. We don't feel safe, so we decide to pack and return to Gaza today. In less than an hour, we were all ready to go.

We are holding our bags getting out of the hotel door after we checked out. I see protesters carrying their signboards just a few metres away walking confidently while the israel forces are firing rubber bullets at them. We run as fast as we can to our car.

I hear my mum scream in pain as a rubber bullet hits her arm. We all stop to check on her. Suddenly, they start shooting actual bullets. With the first shot protestor hitting the ground, many protestors start to flee.

"Run! Run!" Dad shouts when he sees that. He tries to shield us as we run, but then he falls to the ground. I watch in horror as a bullet hits his head, killing him instantly. Frozen in shock, I hear my mother screaming his name and see my siblings desperately trying to wake him so we can keep running together.

I look across the street and see the soldier who shot him, laughing in celebration with another soldier while pointing at us. All my sadness and grief turn into seething anger. I sprint towards them, consumed by rage. I hear mum calling after me begging me to return, but I don't stop. I reach him and land my fist on his face with all the strength I have that he falls on the ground.

Before he stands again and while I am looking at him, the other soldier swings his weapon and hits me hard on the head. Everything goes black and I hear nothing.

I wake in a car, handcuffed and blindfolded. I feel a bit scared, but my anger and rage overshadow everything else. I stay silent and still until they pull me out of the car and lead me to a place. I hear the sound of a door closing. I have no idea where I am because of this stupid blindfold. But I know I could be in an interrogation room or a prison cell.

"You think you can get away with punching an IDF soldier? Trust me, you're going to go through hell," someone says. And I hear him hitting a table hard with his hand, which shocks me to death.

"First question, what is your connection to Hamas?" he asks.

"I have nothing to do with them." I respond right away without hesitation.

He punches me and says "That hurts right? I bet you will confess on the fifth one. I will repeat again, what is your connection to Hamas? "

"I swear I have no connection to them. I hit that soldier after he killed my father in cold blood." I say with a steady voice.

He keeps hitting me and repeating the question and I keep swearing that I have no connection with them. The pain is unbearable and I can feel my blood on my face.

After one of the punches, I collapsed to the floor. I hear his footsteps as he leaves and the sound of the door closing behind him. A wave of terror washes over me. It looks like I'm going to be imprisoned and will experience the horrible stories I've heard about the prisoners here.

I keep thinking about my mother and siblings, are they safe, did they return to Gaza or what did they do, and how could they be feeling now after they lost my father and me on the same day.

Although I'm deeply concerned for them, I'm completely shattered after losing my father. I miss him so much, and it's hard to grasp that I'll never see him again. I loved him so much, and appreciated how much he was always doing everything he can to make us happy, the presents, the outings, the time he spent with us.