It is the morning of Eid al-Fitr. Instead of the usual sounds of children’s laughter and the joyful calls to prayer from the mosques, all I hear is Israeli bombing.
I woke up after just a few hours of sleep, burdened with pain and deep sadness. It was a stormy night filled with Israeli bombings that caused so much destruction and death.
My home is near the cemetery and I watch as funeral processions for our many martyrs go by, one after another. I see bodies of young people wrapped in the flag of Palestine and carried on the shoulders of their families and friends as voices around them shout for truth, justice and revenge. It is a mesmerizing scene that I cannot describe, so I stand glued in place, anger igniting in my heart. I know nothing will return to how it was before.
It is a holiday morning but this year in Gaza it is a morning filled with blood and anger.
I call my sister who is a doctor at Al-Shifa Hospital. She had to leave the house early this morning under a sky filled with Israeli bombs. The Ministry of Health called for all medical staff to head to hospitals immediately. The number of critical cases rise with each bomb. Whole families are pulled out from under the rubble and admitted to the hospitals to breathe their last breath away from the eyes of their loved ones. “The hospital’s walls are shaking,” she told me. I falsely reassure her that Israel would not dare to bomb the hospital, adding it may be safer than home. But unconvinced, she reminds me that the maternity ward of the Al-Shifa Hospital was bombed in 2014.
I turn off the phone and tell myself, “She is right, there is no safe place today.” Nothing is protected from the Israeli attacks as long as the international community remains silent watching their crimes.