The list of martyrs are getting more familiar as names of friends and people we know are starting to appear on it, and one can’t help but wonder, will my name be on that list soon?
In the past two days we had no internet, the lines were destroyed and it took a while to be fixed. During the last two days, people had a fundraising campaign to help the families who had to leave their houses and take shelter in schools. The speakers of the mosque asked the families to donate anything: money, food, blankets etc, and despite the hard economic situations the families did. The same speakers asked the people who were leaving the mosque after finishing morning prayers to go leave quietly and not to walk in groups; they feared being targeted by the warplanes.
The one image that won’t leave my mind is from the massacre that happened two days ago, during the heavy bombing on one of Gaza neighborhoods, a family took shelter under the stairs of their house (most of us do). The family, who couldn’t leave their house, thought it was the safest place for them. Of course they never made it out, they were killed together while sitting next each other, I just keep imagining the last thoughts they must have. I already know how they felt when they heard the bombing sounds, but I don’t know how they felt when they knew that death is just around the corner. Did they hold hands? Did they call someone? Did the mother tell her son that it would end soon? Or maybe they were just praying, hoping that it won’t be so painful and it will end soon. I keep thinking about them and I keep imagining being in their situation, they were just like us no more than three days ago watching the news and seeing images just like theirs. No-one is safe here, no one. The one thing you can keep doing is holding hands and praying …
* This article is originally posted Lives Some Live. – This is a 51 day war account of the how daily lives during the third war on Gaza unfolded one day to the next for its devastated and grieving citizens. This is a heartbreaking nightmare. War is not just the numbers nor the political rhetoric it often masks itself in. In the end, it is about people coming to an abrupt end; and the continuum of life stabbed in the heart. In the end, it is about fear; constant fear, till cease fire is declared.
