Der Al-Balah, Gaza – It was not a terrible dream, it was true. The war had returned without warning.
The watch 2:10 read in the morning when we woke up the terrorist in the sound of the deafness of the air attacks. The violent voice shook everything around us.
My daughter, scared: “Dad!
She was in my neighborhood, the terrorists were screaming, but I could not give her patience. My mind was in full chaos.
Is this a bombing again? What’s happening? Who is attacking us?
At one moment of rejection, I thought: Is there a Yemeni missile on Israel? This end is killing us?
Nymph
Oh my God. The explosion became more intense and the sound was undeniable, we knew very well – the Israeli Air Strike on Gaza.
My new Husband tried to calm her.
I scrolled from local journalist groups and ran on my phone. Everyone was asking: “What is happening?”
A few minutes before the news started: Target home at Dir Al-Balah, finished at Nusrat’s house.
Many tents were bombed for displaced families in Al-Mavsi, Khan Uni and the artillery was shot dead in Rafa.
Northern Ghaza, the entire residential building in Jabalia, was hit and Al-Karama ends in the neighborhood. The “strap of the fire” on the Central Gaza.
Then the desperate begged: “A family pile.
“The resident block has been flat.”
“We need ambulances.”
People shouted for help by calling civil defense teams.
And yet, the bombing continued – violent, tireless.
Images of fear and death
Photos and videos were flooded – scattered dead bodies, martyrs, injured filled every functional medical center in the bar. We were just beginning to forget, she returned.
For a moment, Israel officially announced that it was canceling the ceasefire and resuming the war on Gaza.
It was shocked by the head.
“What do you mean?” My sister who came to spend a few days with me shouted. “No, no, we do not want war again.
We were all looking at the news, eyes widened with eyes. “Oh God, enough… enough.”
Still catching my phone, I scrolled more – images of infants killed in air attacks, tents burned, whole residential blocks decreased.
Oh God, the same image, the same sadness, the same sad dream.
The war was left – without decorating, without pretending, the war was lifted without a dress. Just murder, bombings, destruction and endless floods of blood.
The family around me asked, “Will the north and southern roads be closed again?”
We got stuck.
In Gaza, you cannot plan tomorrow
Last night, I invited my father and my twin sisters in the 20th, in the 20th decade, Ard-Balah in Central Gaza, near Al-Jasaveda for Ramadan Iftar. It was a simple family rally, and I guaranteed them to wait at night, the next morning all of us planned to go to the north.
Before Eid and Summer came, we had planned some Ramadan visits and some work to buy clothes for children. As always, every gift from the north also had the opportunity to explore new stories.
Now all those “plans” were useless. At one moment, life changed on top. The war returned.
Planning has become a crime in this place. Whatever the world, no matter how worldly, a family buying or spending time is an unforgivable luxury.
Here, you are guilty of expecting normalization, you are constantly condemning to live in a state of alert – every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every year.
My sister, who has worked in the media for a humanitarian organization: “Oh my God!
The crime ate me. It was my fault that I was convinced to be them.
If they close the roads, what to do? What will be the next stage of war? Will the northern war begin? Or will they attack the central area?
Now only Der Al-Bahla is left. Hey God, what kind of trap is it?
My mind is thinking, the thoughts are reversing – should you add your protective press Wests again? Go back to work from the hospital?
But we had already removed our tent work area. The journalists who were scattered between the north and the south were withdrawn.
Wait, what about Banius’s school? I had just registered her in school last week, of course. We had come to war again.
My heart is hurting. When the war started, we were a little comfortable, but never security. Fear, hesitation and confusion stick to us.
We did not know where to start, we did not dare to plan, and every time we reminded the missiles.
Bucket
Two days ago, my husband and I went to buy, and for the first time, I dared to buy a single rug, a table and chairs, plates and spoon and some kitchen items.
Walking here, we had all four mattresses, four blankets, four plates, four tablespoons and a small pot for cooking.
Throughout the war we refused to get anything else. Our clothes were stacked on a leaflet on the floor in the designated room, which was divided into section for each of us, we humorously called it the “dressing room”.
It was always confusing, organizing clothes on the floor was a daily battle, and every time we entered the room, my husband and I would say: “We need a closet.”
A closet was a gorgeous luxury, we were hesitant whether to stay south or not to go to the north, but we were hesitant to consider buying one. We always chose to travel light, ready to escape at any moment.
But yesterday morning, I finally packed our winter clothes and told my new Husband: “Let’s buy a closet.”
Now I had my answer. The bombing of this renovation means that the closet was no longer an alternative, instead of waiting for chaos… the chaos of my thoughts, my scattered plans, the chaos in my life, I can no longer control, no matter how much I tried.
And despite all the destruction and destruction around us, it was as if it was not enough, we know that we can no longer dream, no longer plan, no longer want anything, no longer expect anything.
Whatever we want is to live.