This is not a life in Gaza, this is death

Editors note: This article contains discussions of mental health.

An exhausted Islamic Relief aid worker* in Gaza confesses the difficulty of staying strong for his children as the situation in Gaza worsens.

It has been a long time since my last blog. I’d fallen into a depression, and I really couldn’t write. I remember the last time I sat down to write; it was at the start of the operation in Rafah. Since then, I’d lost hope that our misery would ever end. I’d started believing that we’re destined to endure this suffering for what remains of our lives.

I was barely speaking to anyone in the house and I spent my days sleeping or just staying in my room. I lost more weight from only having one meal a day plus coffee. It was a hard time for me and my family, especially since all crossings closed after the operation began, making goods even more scarce and very expensive. Municipal water stopped reaching houses. We did not have fuel, we could not cook, find drinking water, or even wash. We were desperate for any solution or sign of hope. Our only wish was to survive even though everything is hard, and everyone is suffering. This is not a life, this is death.

A terrifying education

Eventually, I decided that we had to go on. I can’t just fall into the darkness and surrender to depression and despair – I needed to be stronger for my kids. My kids… my heart aches when I think of what they’re living through. Children all over the world have just completed another year at school and are enjoying their summer vacation. But Palestinian kids are being killed.

More than 15,000 children have passed away and those that are still here are struggling to find water, food or proper clothes. In place of school, they’ve learned new things like how to fetch water, make a fire, stand in line for bread, distinguish between the sounds of explosions. They’ve started running after the planes carrying aid, screaming for them to drop some assistance. They’ve learned about politics, about human rights violations, about genocide, and about a bigger world that does not care about them. They’ve begun categorising people into 2 camps – those that support us and those that hate us.

They are growing up in an inhospitable environment, eating poor food and catching all kinds of diseases. They’re dreaming of toys, new clothes and returning to their own rooms and beds but they wake from these dreams in the middle of the night and they’re terrified. They can’t go to the toilet because it’s dark and scary without electricity. They can’t watch a cartoon or sing a song to cheer themselves up. They don’t have stories or books to distract them. All the books have been burned making fires to try and feed ourselves.

We are not superheroes

I thought I have to be there for my children. They need to see me standing tall. They need to learn patience and resilience. People think Palestinians are superheroes, but we are vulnerable. We are weak, poor, tired, exhausted, fed up of the world. We are normal people that are being deprived of our normal lives.

At one point, I was angry and shouting a lot, telling my kids to be strong, to act like grownups, to learn to feel full after a small meal. My wife told me to calm down and suddenly, I was in tears. I couldn’t handle the pressure. The pressures of this life are like huge stones weighing down on us all. The blockade is affecting every aspect of our lives. We are living in the Wild West now. There is no law enforcement and people get into fights for the smallest reasons. Thugs, thieves, and criminals are everywhere. Just walking to the market to get food for your kids could get you killed, and no one would even bat an eye. Everyone is dealing with their own share of loss. There is very little compassion or care left. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone is on their own path to survival, but no one escaped this horror. Only those who have passed away.

Because of all this, I’ve not been able to write lately, but I hope I will be able to again. I hope my words will remind everyone about what we’re living through in Gaza. I hope the prayers of free people in the world will bring this nightmare to an end. I hope the future will bring peace and the chance to prosper.

Beyond these lofty dreams, I have more simple hopes like waking up to the morning and find water in the tap, taking a shower, driving to work, meeting my colleagues, taking my children to their school, or getting my morning coffee. I hope I will reunite with my family members. I hope I can take a vacation and swim in the sea. I hope I can have a long night’s sleep. I hope we can live the normal, simple, stupid life we thought was bad before. I hope the war will end.

Please help Islamic Relief support people in desperate need in Gaza: Donate to our Palestine Emergency Appeal now.

*This blog is anonymised to protect the safety and security of our colleague and others mentioned. Read the other blogs in this series here.

Editor’s note: This blog was submitted amid a fast-changing and deepening crisis. The information was correct as of Tuesday 25 June 2024.

If you have been affected by some of the issues in this article, help can be found at Samaritans and Mind.