Gaza City: We have stopped counting the days, seasons, and passage of time over the past two years.
The life we knew before the start of Israel’s genocidal war is no longer days.
Instead, days sever as we experience every blemish and bitter cup-related occurrence except for the one that will give us our lives back.
We observe the world opening a blank page to welcome the upcoming year while celebrating achievements and the end of 2025.
However, the new year in Gaza means that the conflict is now in its third year.
Since the genocide began, it appears as though Gaza has its own calendar.
bringing up remorse and disbelief
Anyone who survived this year alive with their body has their soul eroded, and any woman or man who has been relocated for two years can tell you about it.
At the beginning of 2025, we were optimistic as we traveled back to northern Gaza, carrying our aches and disbelief, to our destroyed homes.
We believed the war was over and that a new beginning would follow in that ceasefire in January 2025.
But we made a mistake. The war broke out in post-war northern Gaza just six weeks later, and it was even more brutal.
We were awakened to the sounds of bombs in the middle of March, which had never really left us. Israel added the tactic of starvation, preventing everyone from entering, even aid, this time.
So it went: fighting, blood, hunger, and a never-ending hunger for a single meal.
Eid and feast days passed by while tables were empty during the seasons of abundance. No chocolate, coffee, or cookies for the holidays. Nothing .
Some stopped welcoming visitors, hiding their poverty, while others made do by offering water.
Store shelves at this year’s Eid were bare for months.
A vendor used sugar, sesame, and flour to set up a table with thin fingers of sweets his wife had prepared at home. One small piece sold for 10 shekels (roughly $3).
I wasn’t surprised, either. Like gold, sugar and flour were unaffordable and sold for nothing.
I searched everywhere for my children to find any signs of celebration that day.
I was surprised that I had hoped that Eid might alter things and that food might enter.
But I asked myself, “What would be the issue with Eid in Gaza?” Nothing alters. The reality is the same as today. A day in Gaza results in hunger and lack of joy on the ground, as well as bombs in the sky.
I returned home to my family in the north for Eid after making the decision to not visit them there.
I felt joy was dead, despite my best efforts, not just because I waited at a street corner for more than an hour and a half looking for a car or even an animal-drawn cart to take us north. So I came back hurt and with my children trailing behind me.
I had enough money to buy them new clothes, but I couldn’t buy them a cookie with it all.
While the rest of the world continued to celebrate Eid as famine consumed us, I slumped onto a couch at home and began to wonder at the wrath that appeared to have been unleashed on us in Gaza.
Days are passing.
They rained on us as the days went on.
I started to lose my drive to work, write, and continue to listen to other people’s stories day by day.
When the world has grown used to our protruding bones, what purpose does it serve to hear the stories of the hungry? What purpose does it serve to report on a massacre that doesn’t come to an end?
I ran out of energy. My mind would tell me to conserve the energy that was left over when I would consider writing a story.
My days consisted of counting the leftovers of sugar, rice, and flour. For my children, I cooked lentils over an open, smoking fire. I was concerned about the last of the yeast, worried about finding more firewood, and longed for a cup of coffee like a dream while browsing through photos of tables that had previously been sparse.
We witnessed people passing away in aid distribution centers at night as a result of a bag of flour or a food parcel.
Throughout the entire war, I had been considering leaving Gaza, but my motivation changed as the thoughts advanced.
I had a dream in which place I could take my kids to eat whatever they wanted.
In my memory, I want to say, “So we do not forget,” all this suffering and humiliation.
How could I forget that every time I pass a stand full of fruits and vegetables, I gasp and look, my heart pounding in hope that this blessing won’t vanish once more?
How could I forget when I saw the food shelves in a supermarket in late September and was shocked and emotional? I started to buy things.
I ate some of the following: canned goods, chocolate, chips, cream cheese, flour, and legumes. Even at twice the price, I still felt like I was carrying treasures.
Since then, I’ve been overburdened with anxiety, fear, and exhaustion whenever I go into a grocery store. I only purchase what I need and what I don’t.
My mind tells me that this abundance will not last, despite the fact that there is more food available. Deprivation, empty shelves, and severed supply lines are what we are conditioned to experience.
A constant sense of food will disappear is a result of this severe trauma. I can’t deny the terror and fear that surrounds food, but I detest the terror and fear.
Every door knocks, every rug slams, every passing truck’s sound, and every gunshot makes you feel the same. We are in a state of emergency as a result of everything, waiting for a missile’s sound.
‘Achievements’
I was joking with my father and my siblings, who have been residing with us since September when Israel ordered people to leave the north the next day.
We attempted to imitate the social media “achievements” trend, where friends and families gather around a cake and share their accomplishments.
Because of the lack of electricity for months, we started under dim LED lights.
When it was my turn, I said that retaining both my mental and psychological faculties was my best accomplishment this year.
Before everyone started to laugh, I wasn’t even finished my sentence.
Who informed you that you still possess both your mental and psychological faculties? My sister suffocated from her laughter.
When I realized the weight of what I had said, I sat there, stunned, and then laughed along with them.
You fool, what is this? What psyche and sanity are there? God merciful, Maram.
Is there still room for talking about mental and emotional stability after what you mentioned above, what you didn’t mention, and everything you’ll never mention?
The conclusion of this year was the most sincere.
An ending where I realized I had reached the limit of my strength and that I had to give up, but somehow managed to persevere.
This is neither strength nor defiance. Souls and minds are squandered by prolonged survival in this state.
Source: Aljazeera
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