Shadow of Resistance

Chapter Thirty Five

Three months have passed since the beginning of what can only be described as a genocide. It is clearly a genocide now, not a war. Several terrible massacres happened during this period that showed clearly that this is not a war.

If it is a war against Hamas, as they claim, why would they throw white phosphorus on civilians sheltering in a school? Why would they bomb Al Maamadani hospital resulting in 500 martyrs? Why would they target bakeries and all food stores other than that they want to starve us?

We've been displaced once again, this time to Rafah, after more flyers were dropped, declaring that the place we were staying in is no longer safe. Rafah, situated on the Egyptian border, feels like the last stop in their relentless push to force us out of Gaza entirely. But we won't leave Gaza for them, we won't give them that victory.

Youssef has been by my side throughout this entire period. Anytime I need him, he's there to listen and support. I'm incredibly grateful to have a friend like him.

Life here is a daily struggle for survival. We're down to one meal a day, usually canned beans and bread. When beans aren't available, we resort to sprinkling salt on our bread. Occasionally, meals of rice and chicken are distributed in the camp, and those are the days we truly eat. But most of the time, hunger is our constant companion, and we tie rocks around our stomachs to dull the pangs.

As harsh as this is, it's nothing compared to the nightmare unfolding in the north. Some people chose to stay in their homes there, no matter what happens. Now, they are facing extreme famine, with Israel blocking all humanitarian aid from reaching them. They bomb the trucks that try to deliver them food, the snipers target fishermen trying to get fish, they even target goats so that they find nothing to eat.

They have no medicine, no food. They are now eating tree leaves and animal feed. They grind the feed and bake it on wood to make their own bread. I can't fathom how they're surviving in such dire conditions, added to this the intense bombings.

Nights during the war are unbearable. The world is swallowed by total darkness, accompanied by the loud scary noise of their drones, which we call "Zanana," meaning the buzzing sound. This noise has been a constant presence since the war began, a grim reminder that danger is always near. When we see a light in the darkness, it's the ominous glow of a bomb or the fire it leaves behind.

The night is the perfect time for Israel to do its massacres while people are sleeping. Each time an airplane passes overhead, our hearts sink, paralyzed by the fear that a bomb could drop on us at any moment. We wake up from sleep drenched in sweat, hearts racing from the nightmares that now plague us every night.

It's January now, and the biting cold has become another challenge. Without a proper home to shield us, we just stay in a thin tent that doesn't protect us from the cold at all. Although our tent is waterproof, raining turns our nights into nightmares. There is a cut in the top of the tent that passes water on us. We've tried mending it countless times, but the weight of the water collecting on the roof forces it open again and again. When it opens, a huge amount of water falls on us while sleeping, waking us all in shock.

Israel has even begun destroying the cemeteries in the north, desecrating the graves of our martyrs by digging them up and extracting their bodies. They don't even let us rest in peace after death. I am worried about my mother's grave in the north, fearing they might have done something to it as well. I don't know how I could feel about that.

I can't understand any human in the world witnessing all these massacres and not boycotting the brands that fund Israel. How can the Arabs see us dying from cold and hunger, and do nothing? I can't believe the whole world is watching all of this and still supports Israel. Don't they see the countless lives lost every day, or how the survivors struggle just to make it through each day? What are they waiting for to take action? What is left for Israel to do? Over 40,000 tonnes of bombs have been dropped on Gaza since this genocide began. They're erasing Gaza right before the world's eyes, and yet, the silence is deafening.

I'm feeling so down and depressed, and I know everyone in Gaza must be feeling the same. As Sarah and I sit quietly near our tents, "Do you want to take a walk?" I say. She nods, and we start strolling around the camp, hoping this might lift our spirits, even if just a little.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," I admit, my voice heavy with despair. "It feels like it's never going to end."

Sarah looks at me with concern, her eyes reflecting the weight of the situation. "I know," she says softly. "Even look at the streets we're walking through. Can you see the size of the destruction? How long will it take us to rebuild Gaza and return to anything resembling normal life?"

I gaze at the buildings and streets around us. Every structure is either heavily damaged or completely collapsed. The infrastructure is in ruins, with roads torn apart and debris scattered everywhere. It feels as a scary haunted town and that its life has been violently ripped away. I see everything in the depressing grey colour, the destroyed buildings, the streets, the air, even the sky is grey.

"You know?" Sarah says, her voice trembling slightly. "Sometimes at work, I don't even know where to point the camera. Should I capture the family on this side, dragging what little they have left across the ground? Or should I focus on the other side, where a mother is carrying her child after his leg was amputated? No matter where I go, whether it's a hospital, a school, or any place, there are always body parts scattered around. Blood stains every corner. The smell of gunpowder and death lingers in the air."

We walk in silence after that, the weight of her words settling between us like a heavy fog. There's nothing more to say. The world around us speaks for itself, and we both carry the same unspoken pain. We continue back toward our tents.

"I'm going to get the bread," I tell my siblings as we reach our tents. Since no one in this camp bakes bread, I'll have to walk to another camp to get what we need.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sarah offers.

"No, it's okay," I reply, shaking my head gently.

I walk to the other camp and buy the bread. On my way back, suddenly I hear several gunshots, and panic spreads as people begin running and screaming. My heart races as I search frantically for a place to hide. I spot a large tree nearby, I quickly dart behind it, pressing myself against the rough bark, trying to stay out of sight.