This might be the final letter I  write from Gaza City for those who still care.
We anticipate that Israel will soon formally enact its “evacuation orders.” Gaza, my beloved city, is in the midst of an Israeli army-permanent military occupation. In the southern portion of the Strip, they intend to force us to all leave our homes and relocate into tents. Who will resist will be punished for what reasons. In Gaza City, we might be living in our final days.
We’ve been told that Israel wants to occupy our city and establish its population as a settlement. We initially didn’t believe it because we believed that this type of news was psychological warfare. After all, there have been “evacuation orders” before, and people were permitted to return, even if it was in their homes.
The Israeli army instructed everyone in northern Gaza, including Gaza City, to move south on October 13 shortly after the genocide began. Constant bombardment followed the orders. Sometimes, hundreds of people pass away in a single day. Numerous tens of thousands of people eluded the south in search of their lives.
We opted not to. We all stayed in because my father refused to let me leave. We endured months of indescribable suffering and fear in our home. Our neighborhood’s destruction was clearly visible to us.
Then the Israeli army cut off the south and north. The north was not reached by Aid. My family and I endured the war’s most oppressive years between January and April 2024. We spent our days looking for anything to quench our hunger because we were both starving. We were occasionally forced to consume animal feed.
People were permitted to return to the north in January of this year when a ceasefire was in effect. It was a moving experience that reflected how ensnared we Palestinians are in our land.
The atmosphere seems to change this time. The threat of permanent occupation, or loss, seems very real, in my opinion.
A large number of tents and shelter equipment will be allowed into [Gaza] in preparation for the transfer of civilians from the war zone to the south, according to Israeli army spokesman Avichay Adraee’s Facebook post.
Gazans read this news with hearty hearts. Where will we flee, in spite of the many questions and few answers? What time will this begin? Will anyone step in and stop this catastrophe?
People are so depressed that they can no longer endure suffering because of their emotional, mental, physical, and financial woes.
We have been observing one another with confused, frightened eyes since my family and I first learned this news.
My heart exploded into a million pieces when I saw pictures of tents and tarpaulins entering Gaza City on social media. I was terrified to consider my future being encased in a tent. How can I pack a small tent with all of my big dreams?
I told my father that I would not like to camp. My cheeks were rolling in pain. He said, “We have no other choice; the tent is becoming our new reality,” and he looked at me with helplessness in his eyes.
We don’t want to leave, but we think we have no other options. We don’t believe we will stand up to the constant bombardment and shelling. When they invade this time, the Israelis will likely be even more brutal. This time, there will be total erasure, not punishment.
People are eating their final meal of the day with their families while they are feeling the end of their city. They are capturing everything that might be lost as they wander through their neighborhoods, comparing themselves to places in their childhood memories.
As I type these words, I’m occupying a room with many students and writers trying to overcome the apprehension about what lies ahead for both studying and working. In the dreadful chaos, they are attempting to maintain their daily routines.
Even when life means living to the bare minimum, people in Gaza adore life. We always discover a way to experience joy, joy, and happiness even in the darkest times.
I want hope, but I’m also terrified of tents, forced displacement, and exile because of all of these. I’m terrified of being silenced and cut off from the world.
I believe that the south of Israel will be a concentration camp where we will be silenced, silenced, and wiped out of existence.
I want to use this opportunity to appeal because I am unsure of how long my words will stay outside.
Sara Awad, a Palestinian student, has a career as a journalist and a graduate of an English literature school.
Do not forget Gaza’s 2 million love, heartbreak, and perseverance-loving people.
Gaza, my city, is a historic metropolis rich in history and culture and filled with love.
Even when the world almost abandoned us, we fervenously resisted and held onto our homes and lands.
Source: Aljazeera
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