Everything that has occupied my thoughts since October 7th, everything I hear, see, dream and feel – is what is happening in Gaza Strip .
Knowing that my family could be killed at any moment, I live with the nagging fear that whatever sound my phone makes will be the news I fear most.
I’m a Palestinian-American living in Annandale, Virginia, but my parents and family are trapped in the besieged Gaza Strip. In this world of perpetual darkness – largely devoid of electricity, fuel and internet – my family has also disappeared from sight.
In northern Gaza, more than 20 members of my family seek shelter under the refuge of a ladder – a fragile shield against the relentless and merciless storm of airstrikes.
“They walk cautiously, avoiding windows and desolate streets where the smell of death, fire and chaos hangs in the air,” said Hani Almadhoun.
When ambulances, firefighters, journalists and UN staff find themselves deprived of protection, we can only imagine the plight of civilians, like my family and dear friends, in Gaza this week.
It is difficult to overstate the negative impact of this war in Gaza on my family: hospitals are overwhelmed by the dead and wounded, forcing local hospitals to use ice cream trucks to preserve the bodies.
VIDEO – Israel kills Hamas security force leader
Hungry cats roam the streets of Gaza crying out for food.
And if that wasn’t enough, our family in Gaza received an evacuation prank last night. It is deeply distressing to hear that, in these difficult times, some are making prank calls to Palestinians in Gaza, pressuring them to evacuate from their homes in the middle of the night under the pretext of imminent bombings.
This caused immense panic and fear in many families. These actions are cruel and unnecessary, especially when thousands of homes have already been destroyed in Gaza.
We once celebrated birthdays together, ate together, laughed, and created cherished memories. Today, those memories lie in ruins, as do the places that were once our sanctuaries.
My family, like countless others, is denied the simple privilege of remembering better days as they face another day of reckoning.
My 71-year-old mother, surrounded by most of her children and descendants, clings to the family bond that holds them together as they struggle with dwindling water supplies and the oppressive cloak of darkness that accompanies life without electricity.
Their peculiar situation places them in what is considered, ironically, the evacuation area of northern Gaza, although escape remains a risky undertaking for many.
The reasons for the inability to escape are multifaceted. Fuel shortages mean that any vehicle traveling in Gaza right now – let alone a car with enough space to seat 20 people – is a target of suspicion.
VIDEO – The world cannot experience another mass exodus of Palestinians, says Brazilian ambassador to Jordan
And venturing south would take them into unfamiliar territory, far from friends, family, and the comforting familiarity of home. In a region where geography can determine life or death, that’s a gamble few are willing to make.
In a world where even my UN colleagues are not guaranteed security, the conundrum facing civilians becomes an unsettling paradox. How are ordinary Palestinians, like my family, expected to find refuge when the lines between refuge and danger blur as the days go by?
The struggles of the present stand as testimony to the unyielding spirit of the Palestinian people, a resilience that distorts the strength of the painful memories of 1948, when my grandparents fled for their lives, and 1967, when our parents sought shelter in Gaza.
These were times of similar adversity, times when our ancestors resisted and survived. The question that remains, however, is why should their children and grandchildren be condemned to relive this incessant cycle of suffering?
Looking back on those days, I developed a deeper understanding of my family members, who lived through the 1948 Nakba – and the uncertainty, injustices, powerlessness and betrayal. Feelings installed in a new generation of Palestinians who only grew up hearing stories of their ethnic cleansing.
Now Palestinians in Gaza are taking a trip down memory lane, realizing that in the march toward safety they are leaving behind places they may never see again.
The pain of loss and dispossession has been seared into our collective memory, serving as a dark and persistent reminder of our shared history.
VIDEO – Bombings leave at least 30 dead in Rafah
Earlier this week, I received a message from Amro, my 29-year-old nephew. Amro likes the Gaza Strip and stays there, despite having opportunities to travel and live outside it.
Amro made me promise that if he somehow survives, I should help him find a way to leave Gaza for good. This was difficult for me. Amro loved this Mediterranean coastal city until the most recent war.
This column serves as a heartfelt plea for understanding, compassion and, above all, an urgent call for peace and hope for a better future.
Unfortunately, given the relentless duration of the Gaza crisis, the prospects for such a future seem more elusive by the second.
Source: CNN Brasil
Bruce Belcher is a seasoned author with over 5 years of experience in world news. He writes for online news websites and provides in-depth analysis on the world stock market. Bruce is known for his insightful perspectives and commitment to keeping the public informed.
