After weeks without internet in Gaza I got a voicemail message from my MECA colleague Wafaa and I had an actual conversation with my friend and MECA partner Iyad. I want to share their words with you, so you get a glimpse of their lives in Gaza and see how they struggle to keep their spirit after two months of devastating Israeli bombing.

When I see that I have a voice message from Gaza I am so glad that someone has managed to reach me. I’m also very scared the message will bring bad news. I listen to Wafaa’s message over and over. Her voice shakes with every word. There are a few pauses where she breathes deep, as if trying to hold back tears. Still, she continues:

Marhaba, hi, Zeiad. This is the first time I’ve gotten the internet in almost a month. Me, my father, my brother, and everyone staying in our home, so far, we are okay. During the “pause” we went out and it was shocking. On every major street, every small alleyway, there are destroyed houses and buildings. People are crowded everywhere. You wait in long lines to get anything you need, even though there is nothing much available. Now we are back to the bombing; the days of the pause went very fast.

I am doing okay because we are still staying in our own home, but every new day is worse than the day before. The bombing never stops and it’s so close sometimes you feel as if it’s inside your own house. It’s become very hard now to find vegetables or other necessary goods. People say they can adjust to the shortage of food and water and other necessities, but they cannot accept the idea of leaving their homes. Two things are scaring me more than anything else. First, that they will bomb our house and we will be killed or injured. And secondly, most scary for me, is to find ourselves under huge pressure to leave our home. I am really, really scared about this, because the moment you leave your house maybe you will find yourself pushed over the border. Another Nakba. This will mean death for us.

Wafaa lives in Nuseirat Refugee Camp in central Gaza with her family and now many, many relatives who were displaced from other areas. Her fears are the fears of everyone in Gaza, in fact everyone in Palestine. Most of all the refugees who were already uprooted at least once, some many times. Death and expulsion. These are our fears. I hear them echoed in every conversation, including my recent call with Iyad who is still in the north.

Iyad surprised me with a call that woke me at two o’clock in the morning (noon his time). I was so, so glad to hear his voice. He told me he was in his auntie’s house, near Jabalia Refugee Camp “We are moving all the time, staying with our parents, aunts, or sometimes in a shelter. We are always moving we cannot stay in one place. When planes bomb houses very close to where we were staying, we try to follow our luck to find another place.” I know you will ask about food. We can survive. Food is a challenge, but you eat just not to die. You know what I’m missing? I’m missing cheese. For almost two months I haven’t had any cheese, because no power, no refrigerator.” I said, “Cheese? This is the only thing you are missing? “ And with that he got emotional. He told me “Really I am missing a good time with my daughters. Because they ask a lot of questions. They ask when we will have another pause. They ask when this war will stop. For the first two or three weeks we could cheer them up by playing games with them. Now, this will not work. They can’t go out. It’s very dangerous. They are scared and everyone around them is scared. They don’t sleep well, and they don’t eat well. As a parent I feel helpless. This is the most difficult thing you can face with your children” And he breathed deep and said “I have no idea what will happen. I am not sure we will make it. The Israelis want to erase everyone living in Gaza.”
I try to remind him, “Hey, you were always a very hopeful man.“ I didn’t hear anything after that. I tried to call him back again and again. Nothing. The next day I realized that they had cut the internet again.