Many of us did not dare go out on the first day of the temporary truce in Gaza. We were too afraid it wouldn’t work. On the second day, we gathered our courage and went out.
The light of day shone a spotlight on the destruction caused by Israel’s relentless bombing of Gaza over the past seven weeks. We did not recognize our neighborhoods and our streets.
There are entire tracts of land where there is not a single building standing. Nothing was spared: houses, residential towers, shops, bakeries, cafes, schools, universities, libraries, children’s centers, mosques, churches.
Destruction was the first thing we saw. Then came the pain.
Amidst the panic, worry and rush to survive the bombs, many of us did not fully understand the loss of loved ones, the injuries suffered, the lives, bodies and dreams shattered and destroyed. Many were unable to bury their dead. Many could not grieve.
Like Sabri Farra, a medical student from Gaza, wrote in a message on social networks: “The word disaster is not enough to describe this. It is a collective hell of extermination against the Palestinian people.
I left my home in Gaza City during the first week of the war. I was lucky to have made it. The same day, the Israeli army bombed a convoy of evacuees, killing at least 70 people.
The route that Israel has designated as a “safe route” for evacuating people from the north to the south is anything but safe. Over the past seven weeks, people who have traveled to the south have reported seeing heartbreaking scenes of civilian bodies lying everywhere. The horror was documented in videos posted on social media.
When the truce took effect, more Palestinians decided to evacuate the north, hoping to do so safely.
But as they headed south, they encountered Israeli army checkpoints, where they were stopped and searched and their property confiscated. Women in my family and friends told me that Israeli soldiers even took their gold. They were forced to walk with their hands in the air, carrying nothing but their identification papers.
Those who managed to escape were lucky, as Israeli soldiers also systematically removed evacuees. I have friends with siblings who were taken away and are still missing after trying to evacuate through the designated “safe route.” The Israelis even arrested the Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha. He was only released after a massive international campaign for his release. We still do not know the real number of people kidnapped.
The walk from north to south takes almost eight hours if you don’t stop. It’s a journey that many Palestinians struggle to make because they are too old, too young, too tired, too hungry and dehydrated, injured or disabled.
Although going north to south can be risky and lead to kidnapping, going in the opposite direction can cost you your life. The Israeli army dropped leaflets warning us not to attempt this trip. Israeli soldiers killed at least two people trying to return to the north on the first day of the truce.
Like hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, I am prohibited from returning to my home in Gaza City. I’m heartbroken that I can’t go check my house to see if it’s still standing. Many others whose family members and friends were shot in the street or trapped under rubble cannot recover their bodies and give them a proper burial.
Israel controls everything: where we go, what we do, how much we eat or drink, whether we can save the injured or those trapped under rubble for days. He even decides how we care for our dead. His army increasingly forces us to occupy a smaller and smaller space before resuming indiscriminate bombings and genocide.
The humanitarian aid trucks that Israel allows into Gaza cannot alleviate the humanitarian disaster. We are barely surviving. If bombs don’t kill us, hunger, thirst, lack of medicine, and cold will.
This break was more painful than the previous 50 days. This is the first time that the people of Gaza can look at their open wounds, their children martyred, their families massacred, their homes destroyed and their lives shattered. Just imagine living six days just to prepare and wait for your death on the seventh.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of ManhattanTribune.
