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Letters from Gaza (17)
...Migrations within the
Camp
Words stand helpless in front of the continuous sufferings of
the Gazan people, a continuous journey of migration, but this
time the migrations are between and within the camps of Gaza.
My children and I were very frightened by the sound of the
airplanes and the bombings, so we decided to stay a few nights
with my husband's family. We took the children and some blankets
and joined the family. The funny thing is that as we were
leaving our building, we saw another family heading towards the
building, with their pale faces and scared lost looks. They
were holding their blankets, seeking a residence with relatives
there, what a caustic situation……
It is yet another migration, but this time with no hideaway.
We are targeted in an evil, malicious way. I was preparing a
small bag to take with me and my kids started to bring what is
so precious to them: Salma brought shoes that she adores very
much, Ahmed brought his small Play Station and Mustafa brought
his stuffed dog - things that sound so small but mean a lot to
them. I felt very bad as I knew that we might not return to
this house. There are many more things that my children love and
adore, things they want to keep, but I cannot take everything
with me.
The children's grandfather house is not very big. It is only
70 square meters. You can barely find a place to sit comfortably
without having somebody walk over you. When we went there, we
found my husband's sister with her four children seeking a safe
place, too, after she fled from her house in al Bureij Camp.
She had heard that a mosque nearby her house is a target. So it
ended up that 9 adults and 12 children seek refuge in only 70
square meters. Imagine that.
My husband convinced me to stay home tonight and not to take
our four children out in this rainy weather in order to go to
his family’s house where we slept the two previous nights. Our
children feel more secure at their grandparents’ home.
We finally have electricity, and I am trying to write before
another hit occurred, though the weather is very windy, and
rainy I can still hear the sound of the Israeli planes which
make me very tense and scared.
Being a refugee is not a good thing. There is not much to
enjoy, life isn’t easy. In a way, life and death are the same
for us, but as a human being and a mother, I do still have
things to enjoy. I want to raise our children, watch them grow
and live their own lives. This feeling is shared by many parents
in Gaza. I still want to get old, see my kids marry and have
their children. I want them to bring their children and stay
with me, and I want them to call me granny.
Oh, Salma my sweet Salma. I still want to give her all the
advice she needs. I want to see her as a woman and hand her to
the man she chooses to be her husband, and I want to live a
normal live.
My five month-old son, Mohammed, started to giggle his funny
giggle and smile his funny smile. I still want to hear him say
mommy.
So, please give me the chance to do so!
New Year’s Eve 2008
Najwa Sheikh Ahmed
Nusierat Camp-Gaza |
