The Lost Comfort of a Home

Part two of the Jasmine Flower of Gaza series

Water is a Luxury

I walked for hours today just to find clean water for drinking and basic hygiene. I carried it back in plastic containers, praying none would spill.

My husband's health is slowly improving, but his father’s wounds are worsening. I have no bandages, no antiseptics — only saltwater and hope.

In the tent, flies gather around the injuries. I clean what I can. I try not to cry in front of them.

Water has become more precious than gold here. Some days, we skip washing just to have a few sips to drink.

The world may have moved on. But we’re still here — surviving minute by minute.

– Walaa from Gaza

A Lost Home

The clock ticks slowly, as if it were years here. The sound of airplanes is loud and intense. I sit alone on the edge of a table that was once a shelter for students. I look around the schoolyard, which was supposed to be filled with students, and I see nothing but tents pitched and erected as if they were eternal homes. You know what happens when a few showers of rain fall. These tents flood, soaking the people inside, whose hardships have been exacerbated by the bombardment of their homes. This tent has become a refuge for them.

I look closely at every corner of this school and see clotheslines adorning the walls, waiting for the sun to rise to dry them. How many dreams are there in Gaza, hanging, waiting for the sun of freedom and peace to rise upon them? We've gotten used to it... yes, we've gotten used to the shattering of hopes. It's very easy to adapt. Nothing is suspicious anymore. The fear of death no longer exists. Have we gotten used to death?  Yes, we've gotten used to death. Everything in Gaza is deadly.

Haha, no, we are dead, but we pretend to be alive.

I write, and I have a lot on my plate...

I miss my solitude and sitting on my couch, watching everything in silence. I miss my window, my only outlet when circumstances get tough. I look at my flowers, smell their fragrance, and sip a cup of tea flavored with mint. My beloved window... It's unfortunate that I will never see it again, and it's unfortunate that I won't see my roses grow day by day. It's also unfortunate that I will never see anything of my home, which was like a world to me. I know that these are simple things to many, but for me, they are details in the form of life and an outlet.

I don't know where the next destination is, and I don't know what will happen to us.

Everything has become dark and unknown...

This was when we were in school, which was supposed to be for studying, but it was a shelter for us. It was one of the worst days. I sat at a table contemplating our situation and remembering my home. At this moment, they came with the news that my home was completely destroyed. I was very sad.

It wasn't just a house.

I spent 6 months in a mixed class of 40 people, including adults, children, sick people and the elderly. It was one of the dirtiest periods. When I remember those days I feel nauseous. The place was very dirty and we had to wait our turn to go to the unclean bathrooms. And the queue to receive a can of tuna does not even satisfy some of our hunger.

The spread of scabies and diseases...

[Editor's note: Palestinians are a tenacious people who built entire settlements from scratch when they were ruthlessly displaced by the Israeli forces during the Nakba. Many of the individual houses were constructed brick-by-brick by the occupants themselves. Even before the events of October 7th, Israelis would frequently bulldoze Palestinian houses in an effort to make their lives more difficult. The houses would then be reconstructed and last until the next Israeli assault. The land of Palestine is sacred to its people, and the homes built upon this ground are highly valued.]

A Winter Away from Home

My favorite season of the year has begun...

Yes, it's winter, but it's also unusual.

A very cold winter devoid of all the meanings that always tempted me.

I won't welcome it from my window this time, watching my beautiful plants joyfully welcome its first drops...

This winter is very sad...

I was eager to welcome it, but in my home.

Not here [at the old school], in the worst and dirtiest places.

These are the worst memories of this year. I hope they don't happen again.

Winter means warmth to me.

It's painful and heartbreaking not being able to warm yourself well, and not wearing clothes that protect you from the cold.

The only thing you really need is to be alone with yourself, to rearrange yourself. This missing thing here is to be alone with yourself for a few moments... 💔

Fear of Life

It is surprising that nothing tempts you to become cold, that everything becomes just a miserable, repetitive scene, that you go through the pain as if it is something ordinary...

That you wait impatiently for death!!

That nothing scares you!!

Even the sound of planes and explosions is no longer annoying and frightening!!

...

That you sleep without caring about what will happen.

We are dead people who are still alive.

This seems to be the correct description...

Our dreams are a longing for days gone by, for a small house.

I used to complain and grumble about its small size and high altitude. But it is beautiful and much better than here. I did not know that I was collecting memories of my beautiful home. I made it a palace, despite its small size.

I did not forget any of its details.

I still remember my happiness when I bought a new carpet. I have not forgotten the smell of my home, which was always fragrant with incense. And my planting of a mango seed, which I gave attention to until I saw it grow into a tree. My beautiful basil refreshes my soul at night with its scent, dear to my heart. The windows of my home overlook the countryside of my country, and the fresh air moves the curtains. My clean bed and my beautiful, floral mattress that is comfortable for my body. I truly miss everything.

I did not know that I was collecting memories of such extremely bad days in a poor shelter that lacks the most basic requirements for life and cleanliness.

A human need is to crave a drink of water!!!

To lie on the flimsy black mattress distributed to all displaced persons!!!

To share your bed with countless children and women!!!

To crave a loaf of bread!!!

...

And you stand in line to get a can of sardines.

And a line to use the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Worse than that, you don’t find water to clean or shower.

I am writing my diary for today while I am in my worst state, completely isolated from the world, no water, no electricity, no life, even dreams have been shattered. In Gaza, there is no safety.

Who among you lives our lives?

Who among you walks over the dead bodies in the streets and continues on the road?

Who among you sleeps in the alleys of hospitals hoping to find safety?

Who among you sleeps in a school, even though you know that it is only for education and not for sleeping?

We were subjected to shelling near our displacement site. I cannot truly describe the scene. It was like something sudden, intense darkness, a strong red spark, with stones, rocket fragments, window glass, and dust flying everywhere. Yes, I was under the glass, and innocent little children were screaming, and there was a martyr and injuries everywhere.

Despite that, I wore my simple bag with its simple first aid supplies, and I treated those who needed help. The number was large and could not be covered, and the injuries were severe, and the smoke was everywhere.  A place where we can hardly see anyone..

I really hope that this war ends and that we can get over all these scenes, that we can live as we were before.

Hearts are blind 💔

Message from the Author and Editor

I love writing very much and I have always dreamed of writing a book.

I was always first in writing during my studies, reciting poetry and writing short stories.

These were my writings, and they came from the heart of the suffering in light of the power outage, the internet outage, and all means. Writing always saved me and entertained me.

– Walaa from Gaza