The Story Of A Gazan Dad
The moment when your 10- month old baby is getting shocked of massive bombardment, the time when you see his cute little face reflecting deep horror while you can do almost nothing, is the worst time ever!
Watching scenes of children whose heads are blown up, seeing children bleeding, and thinking that you can be in their shoes at any moment, that’s something that cannot be easily expressed.
I am from Gaza, I live in Rimal, which is the center of Gaza city. Managing a family of 12, which includes my parents, 5 sisters, wife, and three kids is such an overwhelming responsibility in an unusual place- that faces deep poverty, high unemployment, limited access of movement, inappropriate health facilities and system, and scarcity of power and water resources. It leaves a person with daily concerns of what can be done to maintain a dignified livelihood.
Starting on 7th of July, Gaza witnessed a series of rapid events of bombardment and shelling. This was somehow expected with the long tension that Gaza has been going through, a tension of civil servants that can’t be paid, closure of the only terminal to leave Gaza, and dim hopes for a better future.
The moment that the bombardment started, my elder son Tariq, 7 years old, started recalling the time of the 2012 war. The sounds of bombardment was sort of usual; soon he started to cope with the terminology of war and weapon. For him, I failed to explain why this war erupted and why he is experiencing the third war since he was born!
Dima, my 5 year old daughter, looked careless; she used to show gestures of shock during the times of the bombardment and then kept on playing as if nothing happened, while us- the adults, have experienced shock for longer times.
“When will our house be bombarded?” Asks Dima. For her, destruction is a meaningless word. She is just hearing and following up that a certain house has been bombed, and another has been targeted!! For her this becomes usual, but why not us? I had no answer.
People say: “Isolate children, you should not let them see the blood and the killing”. In fact, I was not able to imprison them inside the room; the house was already a big prison. When I was watching news, I could see them gazing! Looking at the bombardment of houses, they know it’s Israel that launches attacks. They know that Israel is an enemy that likes to kill children; they know that Israel is not letting us live in peace!
For 29 continuous days of attacks, my children got mad. Where are their dad’s promises of a nice holiday? “Why can’t we travel?” Three years ago, I miraculously succeeded at getting the chance to visit Egypt alongside my family. Despite being 4 and half at that time, Tariq recalls every moment he spent there: “Why can’t we go to an entertainment place? Why can’t we go to a swimming pool or play football? Just like any other kid, they got bored of playing with the same toys within a month, so why can’t I buy them toys?”
“Go and buy!!” They make their order with a strict language. My reply is simple: “I can’t do that kids! I will be killed if I go out” and they would just say: “OK, get killed, but get us our toys!”
Life and death are words without meaning for my kids. I do not know what future is waiting for them and what will the consequences be of such an abnormal life. I am not sure how Tariq and Dima would handle the experience- they reflected strength that hides deep fear inside. Yet, what scares me the most, is how Osama- my little boy, would have his normal mental growth.
As a Gazan Dad, it’s gloomy to know that 540 children have been killed and over three thousand little angels got injured. Words cannot describe such agony! May Allah bless those innocent kids.
