From Home to Homeless in Gaza

Greetings from Gaza, the most miserable place in the world, where rivers are made of blood not water.

I am writing to share the latest chapter of my story, as I am certain that my and other Gazans’ experiences right now are profound enough to fill volumes with accounts that have yet to cross anyone’s mind and sadly remain unheard.

While not every family may have a unique tale, each individual certainly has a story to recount about their personal struggles in this devastating war. They often start the same way, with the peaceful lives Gazans led in their homes before October 7th. But, since then, most people have become homeless and are living daily horrors unimaginable to anyone living in a normal society.

Up until yesterday, my family and I were among the lucky few who were able to stay in our home. The war raged around us, but at least we were able to stay put, content with the basic right of having shelter to protect us from the cold and wet.

Now our story has gone the way of so many others in Gaza. We, too, were among those forced to evacuate. I fled my home and left what remained of my memories in it, taking my family to the unknown, where we all immediately became homeless.

After numerous attempts, I managed to secure a single, 15-meter tent to accommodate my family of 25. The challenge has now shifted to choosing a location to set it up, marking the beginning of a new chapter of suffering as we try to live in a place not fit for human habitation. And the biting cold compounds our suffering.

As we navigate this new chapter, my wish is for the world to hear the stories of despair and survival from the heart of a disappearing Gaza. Maybe we can put them all together into an anthology and call it “Nights and Days in the Stricken Streets of Gaza.”

Don’t forget us!