The ceasefire will not bring our lives back

A lot of noise – missiles and explosions, the sound of drones, shouting and wailing, screams of “martyr, martyr”. The breaking of glass, slamming doors, collapsing buildings, fires blazing, thunder, lightning, wind, gasps of death, darkness, and ashes. I still have them all in mind.

Although I almost a year ago, I still have these memories and sounds haunt Gaza. I left everything behind – my home, my friends, my extended family – but could not shed the echoes of the war.

Here, in Cairo, I keep reliving the trauma of what I had seen, heard and felt in the first four months of the war in Gaza.

When I hear the sound of an aeroplane in the sky, my heart races in fear, thinking it’s a warplane. When I hear the sound of fireworks, I panic, imagining them to be bomb explosions.

Exile used to seem like a place where peace and safety could be, but it turned out to be one.

Our lives are still ruled over by the destruction and death that is occurring in Gaza. We continue to experience the loss, suffering, and survival struggle that we believed we had left behind.

The sound of bombs is not real; it is just the echo of our memories in our minds; we do not live in a tent that has been flooded by rain and we are not starving. But we still live in misery.

My father, the breadwinner of our family, could not find a job for months. When he did, it paid a meagre salary. We face mounting debt and cannot afford basic necessities.

Meanwhile, we have stayed fully immersed in the horror of Gaza. The bombardment, the mass killing, the suffering in torn-up tents – it streams to us on messaging apps hour by hour.

I have palestinian friends who all appear to be in the same situation: they are besieged by the war and suffering.

“I wish I had died with them instead of living”, my friend Duaa told me recently. Soon after the genocide began, her family sent her to Cairo to finish her studies peacefully. “I had a feeling I wouldn’t see them again when I said goodbye”, she said, sobbing.

She attempted to contact her family to check on them but was unsuccessful when she arrived in Egypt believing life had given her a better chance to study abroad. She was overcome with anxiety until she learned of their martyrdom.

She failed her studies because the pain was unbearable. She continues to struggle to pay the rent on her apartment and threatened to have her landlord evicted because of her late payments. She is an orphan, alone in exile, and may soon become homeless, too.

Another friend, Rawan, had been studying in Egypt for a few years before the war started, dreaming of a bright future. On October 10, 2023, a huge explosion destroyed her house, killing her entire family. Only her mother, who miraculously survived despite severe injuries, and her married sister, who lived in another house, are left.

Rawan told me she missed her father’s encouraging messages, the support of her brothers Mohammed and Mahmoud, and the innocent laughter of her sister Ruba. She never completed her education. She has become a shadow of herself.

Nada, another friend, is in Cairo with her sister. Because their names were not on the list of people who could cross the Rafah crossing, the girls were forced to leave their parents and brother behind in Gaza.

In Cairo, Nada felt lost, alienated, and afraid. She attempted to travel with her parents and brother, but the occupation stormed Rafah and blocked the crossing. She claimed at the time that she thought the world had shut down completely.

Nada and her sister live alone, without the support of relatives, and struggle. The strain and sadness have been severe. Nada claims she looks like a skeleton despite having lost a lot of weight.

They are reluctant to leave the apartment they are staying in because of harassment and fear of kidnapping, she claims.

“We yearn for our past lives in every detail”, she says.

We are aware of this, but we also recognize the loss of our previous lives. Nothing will ever go back to how it was before, even if the war ends. Nothing will make up for the agonizing loss.

The conflict is supposed to be ended by the ceasefire that is effective right now, but it’s not clear whether it will. Since Wednesday’s announcement, more than 120 people have died. And we are aware that more people will perish due to poor weather. Zacco is no longer a suitable place to live.

The Israeli government will set its own rules for how long the population is kept enslaved and blocked, even if there is lasting peace. If it occurs, reconstruction will last a long time. Despite the difficulties we face, we as a family have chosen to begin anew in exile.

Source: Aljazeera