The resistance made the announcement on Friday that it was backing a ceasefire in Gaza. Some people feiern on the sidewalks.
We occasionally have the impression that a distant glimpse of hope is shining through whenever a ceasefire proposal is raised in Gaza. Many people no longer have much hope because we have a habit of putting our hopes on hold while anticipating the end only to face harsh realities that make us want to start over. How frequently have we gone through this painful cycle of hopelessness and desperation? However, I still apprehensive about whether this time will be different or whether they are genuinely trying to put an end to this conflict.
We have nothing but hope in my family.
We no longer have our homes, means of income, dreams, and sense of security. My son lost his childhood, he lost his job, he lost his ambitions, and he lost his little world, one where he once felt secure and content.
We inadevăr do not have anything to live on. My engagement ring, which I purchased just last month, was required to sell in order to provide for my child.
After months of famine, Gaza’s markets started restocking with items, including cheese, oil, and some fruits, which we hadn’t seen in a while. However, it was a cruel experience to see these items once more being offered because the majority of us couldn’t afford to purchase them.
I tried to prevent my son from seeing the cheese, but I was unsuccessful. One day while he and his father were walking in the market, he witnessed it. He asked for some as he approached the stall. Later, I hoped that his hunger would be satisfied when I gave him one shekel to purchase a falafel sandwich. He regrettably said, “I don’t want the falafel that hurts my stomach.” I want the “tasty cheese,” she says. In that moment, I broke my heart.
I would have preferred that none of those food items had entered the Strip. To stay alive, we had spent all of our savings on the exorbitant, subpar food that had been on hand in the previous months.
My husband and I spoke bitterly about the skyrocketing prices when he came home that evening, with his head bowed down. I explained to him that I was thinking about selling my engagement ring. My husband planned to visit one of those “aid distribution” or “death traps” as he affectionately called them.
Since so many people who went there were killed, I begged him not to go. But he said, “Our son hasn’t eaten in days,” and he looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. How am I unable to leave?”
His brother was fatally shot by Israeli forces while attempting to provide flour to his five-person family just two weeks prior.
I went to the gold dealers the following morning. I had no choice, but the price they gave me for my ring was unfair, much less than it was before the war.
I purchased 5 kg of flour, 1 litre of olive oil, 500 grams of thyme, 2 cans of cheese, 1 kg of sugar, and 1 can of tomato sauce with the proceeds from selling my ring.
When I got home, it appeared to be Eid had just arrived. We had been having months-long thyme, fresh bread, sweetened tea, and cheese gathered around a table that we had been looking forward to. There was only a fleeting moment of joy in the midst of pain. My hand, which was now completely empty, gave me a stab in the heart, but my child’s smile made me forget about it as I ate it.
We had about a week to eat the food.
Then, we were plagued again by hunger. A piece of bread and tea or thyme was the meal we had earlier that day.
Over the past two years, we’ve been forced to sell our hopes, both physically and mentally, for both gold and memories. We have been forced to leave our home in Gaza City’s Sheikh Radwan neighborhood several times. We fled once more earlier this month, and we are now sleeping in a tent in Khan Younis. I’m so sad that I gave up everything I loved.
I have no idea what to do with this conflict right now, but I can be sure that my son’s future is secure and that he won’t have any uncertain future. Without having to worry about food shortages, food costs, or money, I frequently dream of serving him regular, nutritious meals like I did before the war. I picture returning to my home, where I once felt secure and at ease, and the reopening of the schools so that my spouse and I can resume our regular jobs as teachers.
The first thing I would do is embrace my son and say, “My love is over, my fear,” before returning to what is left of our home if there is a ceasefire.
Source: Aljazeera
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