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My trip to Gaza 2015

April 10, 2015 by Nora Lester Murad

The Gaza Strip from April 2-8, 2015 (but it felt like one year)

This is Kamal in front of his home in Beit Hanoun.

Kamal LOVED his garden and tried to help me imagine how beautiful it used to be. Later he showed me pictures on his phone and his colleagues at Oxfam went on and on about what a beautiful garden it had been and how much work he had put into it. This is what is left.

Kamal became very emotional when his cat jumped from behind a piece of metal into his arms. He said he felt ashamed that he was no longer able to take care of his own cat.

I had seen photos like these before — destroyed factories in Shujaeya. But seeing this factory (ice cream? juice? I forgot) with Kamal made it totally different. I could see reflected in his eyes how it used to be with people working, trucks coming and going, life in action. I could feel the tragedy in a way I hadn’t before.

This severely damaged nonprofit organization served people with disabilities. I found the name of it ironic given all the death: The Society for the Right to Life.

The only action in Shujaeya in the late afternoon were these young men picking up rubble. They took turns posing for pictures delivering rubble to a middleman who would sell it to be ground up and re-used.

I especially liked these two — cousins I think — who held up stones and said, “Five shekels! Tell the world that we work for five hours to earn 5 shekels! And every time they said, “five shekels” they broke into a hysterical laughter that made me laugh. Hard. Amazing.

And here’s a photo from a friend’s house that speaks volumes about the challenges of living in Gaza where electricity comes for 6 hours and then not again for 18 (or 8 on 16 off during good times). How do you use the bathroom at night when there is no electricity?

Still, Gaza is stunningly beautiful. From this balcony, you can see the least affected part of Gaza City, and it looks especially good because the destroyed buildings in the lower half of the photo have been cleared away (unlike Khuzaa and other places) — they were police buildings.

It was a productive trip. Here I am with the Steering Committee members from Gaza of our new initiative, Aid Watch Palestine (Jaber Qudih, left; Ibrahem Shatli, middle and Amal Zaqout, far right) and Heba, our team coordination assistant (2nd from right).

And here I am with Heba and 7 of the 9 writers who will write “glimpses of daily life” stories for the Aid Watch website (at a lovely new cafe).

And although I was really, really, really busy, I did spend a little time going around to talk to people about the reconstruction situation. Here is a cement distribution warehouse that was closed (smack in the middle of a work day).

And here is another cement distribution warehouse that was open but not operational. The manager let me take photos of the empty warehouse and explained that he expected a new shipment “any time now.” He gave me lots and lots of information about how bad the cement situation is, including how he personally had been assessed for cement back in September, but he has yet to receive any information about whether he’ll be getting any cement or when. He also talked about the irony of how people who need cement badly get approved after waiting long period but then don’t have the money to buy the cement, or they borrow money to buy cement and then sell it at a profit on the black market to buy food, since they don’t have enough money to do the repairs to their home anyway.

There was some steel (also tightly controlled because it is considered “dual use” by Israel).

And yes, the place was monitored by camera.

We finally found one cement distribution warehouse in Jabalia City that actually had cement!

Customers were very happy to get it, but there were surprisingly few.

But the manager of the facility was not so happy. He said he’s obligated to accept truckloads without inspecting them, and when he finds damaged materials like these, he’s not allowed to return them. That’s the problem with monopoly.

Then we stopped in to watch some work being done to construct a temporary shelter caravan funded by Jordan.

I was told this is a high quality caravan because the walls are insulated, unlike some of the others.

The caravan is a big improvement over the makeshift home the family is living in now on the site of their demolished home.

The mom was younger than I am but had 11 children (two died in the last war and one permanently disabled). Her grown daughter was sweeping the dirt floor when I arrived. They made me fresh lemonade.

I really liked this woman. Her name is Ghalya.

In case you were wondering, Hamas signs are visible. One time the car I was in was stopped at a checkpoint. The officer said he wanted to remind us to pray for the prophet.

United Nations and international NGO signs are also everywhere like at this World Health Organization voucher distribution center (which was not too busy, for reasons I don’t know).

I was very fortunate to be hosted by dear friends, Najla and Jason Shawa in their super comfortable home — despite the difficulty I had keeping track of which water was for drinking, which for hair washing, and which for body washing. I got to play with baby Zoozoo and meet Najla’s famous (and super nice) mom, Rawya.

As I posted on Facebook earlier today, there is only one word to describe what is happening in Gaza: betrayal.

Israel devastated Gaza, but “aid” helps keep it that way

April 9, 2015 by Nora Lester Murad

This article first appeared in the Huffington Post.

Marking six months since the ceasefire in Gaza, 30 international aid agencies joined together to issue a statement titled, “We must not fail in Gaza.” At face value, this warning is a responsible step by credible international humanitarian and development actors. Yet, a deeper reading reveals that the statement is neither candid nor wholly truthful. How can we solve the appalling conditions in Gaza or elsewhere if aid actors actively participate — including through this statement — in mystifying the public about what is really going on and where responsibility lies?

Accountability cannot be achieved without honest, critical, constructive discussion about what is really happening. We must tell the whole, complex, discomforting truth, even if it leads us to conclude that “aid” isn’t as helpful as we want to believe it is.

It is not wholly truthful to say, “We must not fail in Gaza” when we have already failed in Gaza. Nearly 2 million people remain essentially imprisoned under military occupation in one of the most densely populated areas of the world. The international community has legal, moral, and professional obligations to hold Israel accountable for these and other violations against Palestinians, but it does not do so. Admitting failure could allow aid actors to stop investing intensive efforts and massive resources in a flawed system. It could open up discussion leading to radical change.

It is not wholly truthful to say 100,000 Palestinians remain displaced when there are nearly 7 million Palestinians displaced. Like other oft-repeated statistics, the number “100,000” actually hides the bigger picture. This number does not include those still displaced from the last Gaza war in 2012; and it does not include those without homes because the Israeli blockade bans sufficient materials to meet the natural growth in demand for housing. It certainly does not include the total number of Palestinians who are not home because they have no homeland. Confronting the problem holistically could allow aid actors to extract themselves from complicity.

It is not wholly truthful to say that the international community is not providing Gaza with adequate assistance because little of the $5.4 billion pledged in Cairo has reached Gaza, as if Palestinians are merely entitled to compensation for recent war damages. In fact, the international response is inadequate because “aid” is offered as consolation for 67 years of statelessness. In fact, decisive political intervention is the only way to achieve a long-term solution.

The recent statement by aid agencies is written in the sophisticated, passive language for which the aid system has become known:

The Israeli-imposed blockade continues, the political process, along with the economy, are paralyzed, and living conditions have worsened. Reconstruction and repairs to the tens of thousands of homes, hospitals, and schools damaged or destroyed in the fighting has been woefully slow.

But whose responsibility is it to reconstruct homes? It is the responsibility of the very same aid actors who signed the statement! Why is it their responsibility? Because they have been contracted to do so by governments that are legal duty bearers, given Israel’s failure to act to ensure the wellbeing of Palestinians under occupation. These actors accept that responsibility, claim the authority to fulfill that responsibility, and are compensated to fulfill that responsibility.

So how can United Nations agencies and tens of international non-governmental organizations declare, “…we are alarmed by the limited progress in rebuilding the lives of those affected and tackling the root causes of the conflict” as if they were mere bystanders?

We must do better! Rather than blame others and plead powerlessness, every one of us, in every sector — public, private, international and local — should reflect honestly about the role we play in maintaining this failed system. We must summon the courage to risk change.

Here is the text of a statement those same agencies might have published had they been willing to speak truthfully. (These are sentiments already whispered in the back rooms of most agencies working in Palestine.)

The Joint Statement by Aid Agencies That Should Have Been Published

We have failed. The recent Gaza war is simply more proof that we, the international community, refuse to exert effective pressure to implement any of our hundreds of UN resolutions relating to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, calling into question the credibility of our commitment to a global governance system where all people can enjoy freedom, equality and basic rights.

“Aid” has not been an effective tool to offset or mitigate this failure. Taking Gaza as one of many examples, we have accepted funding on behalf of Palestinians and we have paid ourselves handsomely to achieve objectives that we knew to be unachievable within the constraints of our system. We hereby admit that the aid system should be dismantled and radically re-envisioned as a form of solidarity driven by a commitment to justice.

Because we are truly as committed to justice and the rule of law as we always claim, we intend to remain in Palestine with Palestinians until their rights are achieved. We do this as true humanitarians not as careerists, so we will not accept compensation beyond what we need to subsist by local standards.

Furthermore, we will not allow ourselves to be used or blocked. We will insist that our governments act in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations (especially Chapter seven, Articles 41 and 42) giving effect to UN decisions via economic, diplomatic and other measures.

We will rebuild Palestine so that it can be free of the need for aid: enjoying territorial integrity, with control over its own natural resources and borders, and able to receive Palestinians from around the world if they choose to become citizens.

We will do this because true help in a situation of inequality requires us to take a stand on the side of justice. We understand this will require us to take risks, but we are driven by our conscience to do what is right.

Malala, where is your money?

December 16, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

The article first appeared in The Hill’s Congress Blog.

Nobel Peace Prize winner Malala Youzzeffi announced a donation of $50,000 for the reconstruction of Gaza’s schools. That was in October, in the wake of Israel’s summer assault that affected some 113,500 homes in addition to schools, public buildings, hospitals, utilities and other essential infrastructure.

As part of an investigation into Palestine’s broken aid system, I set about tracking down where Malala’s money is. One month later, I have few answers and my list of questions is growing. UNRWA, the agency responsible for Palestinian refugees and the recipient of Malala’s donation, could not tell me when anticipated repairs would commence or if Israel’s complex restrictions on importation of cement and other building supplies would affect the timeline. It is already nearly four months since the ceasefire agreement, and two months since the donation was made.

I had expected to find out that a portion of Malala’s contribution would go to high overhead costs and that some would be pocketed by Israel in the form of import taxes, security fees, and corporate profits. I did not expect to be unable to get reliable information.

Problems with transparency and accountability are not unique to any one agency. Rather, it is a consequence of an entire aid system that has an interest in protecting itself from scrutiny to avoid being exposed as complicit in the ongoing denial of Palestinian rights.

US taxpayers give more than $400 million of their hard-earned money to Palestine annually. This supports dozens of aid organizations with noble mandates. But most US taxpayers would be saddened to learn that assistance delivered through the aid system may sometimes do more harm than good.

Off the record, everyone admits that real development in Gaza requires the siege to end and the occupation to cease. But why would Israel end the occupation when it’s so profitable? International donors pay to fulfill obligations that Israel has under International Humanitarian Law, and when Israel destroys donor-funded projects, the donors build again.

Instead of exerting political and economic pressure on Israel to recognize Palestinian rights, international governments offer aid to Palestinians as a sort of “consolation prize.” Then, when Israel makes the provision of aid difficult, the aid actors again fail to stand up for Palestinian rights. In trying to find ways around Israel’s siege, aid may actually entrench it further.

Rather than pointing the finger at particular aid agencies, the taxpayers in whose name aid is being given must demand accountability not only in terms of budget sheets but also in terms of impact.

This is not to say we should expect a quick fix. The urge for simple answers and fast spending is part of the problem. Our objective should not be to simply provide Palestinians with new schools. What we must demand is a bold plan that sees aid disentangled from Israel’s regime of siege and occupation. Rather than merely providing a stopgap until the next bombardment, the process of rebuilding must respect Palestinian rights. Moreover, the aid system must serve the interests of Palestinians in ways that are accountable to Palestinians, taxpayers around the world, and other stakeholders.

Aid actors have a hard job to do. They work in a highly politicized environment, with tremendous security risks, and often without political support from governments. Yet they are legally obligated as duty bearers and by ethical mandates that they must uphold, even in situations like Palestine where “pragmatism” suggests they compromise in order to deliver aid. By accepting billions of dollars in trust for the Palestinian people, aid actors agree to be held to these high standards.

If Malala really wants to help Gaza, she may want to do more than just give money. She may want to ask where it is. Asking for accountability doesn’t show lack of trust, nor does it undermine aid actors’ ability to perform. Asking for accountability is a way of ensuring that international aid doesn’t just do the best it can within a broken system, but that systems be built to ensure that aid actually helps not hurts.

An update from UNRWA posted March 23, 2015: http://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/press-releases/unrwa-reopens-school-khuza%E2%80%99-gaza

During Gaza

November 2, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

This poem was originally published on Counterpunch.

There are periods of time during which there is only one place on earth and places for which one period of time changes history. These are my hearts’ thoughts about July 2014, which I will always think of as being “during Gaza.”

I.
The front line obscured,
their troops had dispersed
to cafes in Haifa
till the flammable stench
of hope decomposing
ignited in Gaza,
wafted through the watan,
and woke up the poetry.
And an unlikely hero
neutralized the fear
that had shackled generations
by risking everything,
in time with the pounding
of the tabla.

II.
Red lines, fault lines, electricity lines, bread lines
crossed and cut and bombed.
Complexity, like raw sewage, washed into the sea, a surprising relief.
Whispers at ftoor were unified by suhoor.
But till now
CNN still does not know
or refuses to report,
that the game has changed.

III.
I am fine bang-bang, Mama.
No, bang-bang. There is no bang danger here.
I am far from bang-bang-bang.
That sound? Helicopters. I don’t know why.
The pope left, Ki-Moon left, Kerry left.
Nothing unusual is happening here now.
I am absolutely sure, Mama.
There is bang-bang-bang-bang absolutely no danger
in the West bang-bang-bang-bang Bank,
yet.

IV.
On Facebook I check
before I even spit the night’s bad taste into the drain
if she is alive
if he is alive
and the ones in the south and the ones near the coast
but most of them don’t answer my “how are you?”
because they are sleeping their half-rest,
or because they have no electricity,
or because they are dead.

V.
They say I have lost perspective
because I can’t taste chocolate anymore,
because I feel walls tremble in my dreams,
because I scream “stop” into the wind.
They say I have lost perspective because I mourn children not mine
brains blown from skulls.
Meanwhile, they seek my professional recommendation through LinkedIn.
And I say,
it is not me
who has lost
perspective.

VI.
There were ten thousand or twenty
and we waved flags,
little girls on shoulders and families in cars,
old men in wheechairs and so many, many women!
Women who had held decades together with their bare hands,
their husbands in prison,
and arrested themselves,
beside their daughters marched.
Those daughters, with international aspirations,
who had seen burning tires only from car windows as they passed,
cursing the traffic,
and who had not seen options, much less discussed them,
not even amongst themselves, over latte, all these years.
But now,
titillated,
they chanted “udrub udrub Tel Abeeb”
while skinny boys, faces covered, walked into bullets,
despite knowing
that no one can remember 108 names.

VII.
Still,
there is something
something precious
I pull it towards me
faith renewed
by that clarity
that unity
that surety
that when I say “Can you help me help Gaza?”
without exception
even those I do not like
and even those who do not like me
answer simply:
“Consider it done.”

VIII.
When Gaza is over
When the mess of rubble and body parts is cleared away
When researchers have analyzed the op-eds and filed them
When Americans realize what they paid for and why no money is left for Detroit
When their children ask “how could that happen?” the way I asked about Auschwitz
When they let their minds go blank for ten minutes in lotus position at sunrise
Will they be haunted
by the Bakir boys
playing soccer
on the Gaza beach?

Donor complicity in Israel’s violation of Palestinian rights

October 25, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

“In this policy brief, Al-Shabaka Policy Member Nora Lester Murad examines aid through the lens of “complicity” and exposes shortcomings in current legal frameworks. She argues that regardless of the limitations of applicable law, international aid actors are fundamentally responsible to those they seek to assist and must be held accountable for the harm they cause or enable. She identifies the areas in which questions need to be asked and concludes with some of the steps that Palestinian civil society and the international solidarity movement should take.”

Download the full paper in English and Arabic on the Al-Shabaka site, and please share your comments here.

Rant on Humanitarianism

September 18, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

This piece was first published on Philanthropy for Social Justice and Peace.

It is 3am and my left index finger taps involuntarily on the laminate desk because I’ve been told by someone I respect that I am wrong or just crazy (but oh so politely) to find it very strange that the distinction between what is “humanitarian” and what is “developmental” in terms of aid is so arbitrary and from my point of view illogical because (stay with me here) there is a “Humanitarian Imperative” that obliges international actors to provide tents for Palestinians in Gaza and food so they don’t starve, at least not quickly, but there is no “imperative” for those same actors to demand – I’m talking about actions not words – that Israel allow building supplies and equipment in through the checkpoint which they control or that they allow yummy, beautiful, quality Gaza products into the world market so that Palestinians in Gaza can support themselves rather than be 80% dependent on aid (that was a pre-war figure) and please don’t start now about Egypt because OF COURSE Egypt has control over the crossing at Rafah and is complicit in obstructing trade and aid—though never say the word “denying” trade and aid, I don’t know why, maybe because then it’s a crime against humanity? (I am not sure if that is true) and anyway, what does that have to do with the sense of betrayal and isolation and hopelessness that is driving thousands of Palestinians to seek to escape illegally by sea and drowning! drowning! Those young people who stayed alive through the hell of bombardment, the shaking of the ground, the thundering of the skies, the collapse of the world around them for the third time in the last six years and now they so urgently want to escape that they push themselves onto rickety boats (flashing images of Haitians flailing in rough waters), my God, the world is going to hell, and yes I started that last verse with an indictment of Egypt, against whom I feel even more powerless than I do against Israel, which is pretty darn powerless, but this is, obviously, a digression from my main point which had to do with how totally bizarre and sick it seems to me that the “Humanitarian Imperative” is not a HUMAN imperative (forget law now, law makes my head hurt and all those people who say that my arguments are weak because they aren’t grounded in law make my head hurt too because my arguments are grounded in JUSTICE PEOPLE, yes JUSTICE which is an imperative, no?) I mean, isn’t it imperative for us as human beings to prevent the injustices that lead to the humanitarian crises that then invoke the Humanitarian Imperative to respond in very limited ways? (stop telling me that humanitarianism cannot and should not be political and that the whole point and value of humanitarianism is that it is not subject to politics when that only makes sense to me between 9am and 5pm and not at 3am when I can see so clearly that nothing is more political than saying “our job ends when people eat” and I know you’re frustrated that I’m “twisting” what you mean, that we are not limited to humanitarianism but that it protects a minimal space for required intervention on non-political grounds OKAY OKAY I get that but it is sooooooooooooooooooooo not enough in today’s world where we are the perpetrators of the humanitarian crises to say that we are only obligated to respond to the symptoms—and if I am the only one who sees that then I am truly insane) And anyway, isn’t action imperative for us too – to protect the sanctity of our own humanity, if not the law – and what I mean by that is that every time we use this sterile terminology to justify not doing something that we know to be right in our [she pounds very hard on the squishy place above the belly button that processes everything] then we are less, less, less AND the people, in this case Palestinians, that we let down, because they are now absolutely sure that they can’t rely on anybody in the world to hear and realize and act on the fact that they are suffering terribly (I already said that I know that they are not the only ones in the world!), not due to a tsunami or an earthquake but from the unnecessary and immoral acts of an OECD and UN member state that enjoys all kinds of upgraded trade relations and cultural exchanges and stuff that Gaza is denied, denied, denied, denied, but it is ME I remind you who is naïve and confused when I say that this has got to stop people, the WHOLE mess of inequality and violence—economic, cultural, sexual, physical because it’s so very tiring (if you can’t tell) trying to understand the world we live in today and what my role in it is as someone who is compelled by a Human Imperative and who is angry and disappointed that we’ve found so many legal, professional and administrative ways to not get involved when we’re needed like telling 1.8 million traumatized human beings (who, by the way, would share a piece of bread with you if it was the only thing they had) that “we’re only obligated to provide you with tents and not to use all means necessary to ensure that you live with dignity in homes that are safe and that when you go to the beach you can swim in water that is not polluted by raw sewage and that you feel no compulsion to drown yourself because you feel alone. I want to say to the Palestinians in Gaza, to the Bangladeshi sweat shop workers, to the kids who go to school barefoot in El Salvador, to homeless women on skid row in Los Angeles: you are not alone (and I really wish that someone would tell me that I am not alone at 3am) but then again, I might just be wrong or crazy (but not in the legal sense!).

Guest post: “I thought I was going to die, but it turned out to be my cousin” by Ahmed AlQattawi

September 8, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

It was not the first time the Israeli Occupation Forces waged an assault on the Gaza Strip. Over here in the middle of the Gaza Strip, it was outrageous. The sky was almost full of Israeli warplanes of various kinds. They flew as fast as they could, and sometimes hovered very low in order to bomb houses and their occupants. There were many kinds of Israeli warplanes used–helicopters, drones and jet fighters. It was hard to take a step outside my house due to the rockets that fell from the sky. All kinds of institutions got badly damaged or destroyed completely and most were at least partly damaged.

Israeli missiles fell randomly upon Al-Shojaiyah neighborhood, and every single person ran to the streets to seek cover, but there was no cover. Shrapnel spread everywhere; dozens of innocent civilians and animals were killed. Body parts were scattered. The Israeli army bombed over and over again as if it was a game. They came with their tanks and warplanes to murder whole families in cold blood not stopping for a second to realize that this family may have an infant who should be living and enjoying his childhood like Israeli infants and other infants in the world.

On July 19th, my family and I were about ready to have our dinner as the Israeli assault went on. My little sister, Shahid, was standing on a small chair by the window looking at how the beautiful horizon was covered with black thick smoke. A poisonous smell escalated with the smoke of bombed buildings and blew with the wind. My little sister and I couldn’t bear the smell of it, and I started to cough uncontrollably through my mouth and nose. I sprayed some perfume to change the smell of the air we were breathing that moment and it gave us some relief. Shahid went back to looking at the sunset when she saw something small flying towards us from far away.

“Come here, Ahmed, and look at that thing flying right toward me,” she pointed.

“Get inside and close the window, Shahid, before something bad happens,” I replied.

“I hope that flying thing is some super hero like Superman because I just know he can save people whenever they are in danger” she said, staying by the window.

“You must be crazy!” I answered.

Suddenly, she realized what she was seeing. She freaked out and started running all over the house screaming: “A rocket is breaking down the sky!”

My siblings ran to the east of the house to take a shelter, because by then we could hear a scary sound from above. I ran as fast as I could to open the window and confirm what she saw. I thought maybe the sound of the rocket was really the sound of warplanes passing over our house or hovering at low altitudes, but in fact it was a rocket dropping from a helicopter on to a specific target near my house. When I saw it, I left the window open and bent my whole body down toward the floor with my hands over my ears to alleviate the pressure a little bit after the explosion. A few seconds later, there was a massive explosion, and then a second one that shook my house fiercely. Everything was shaking and moving under our feet so I thought at first that my house was the one that had been bombed. However, it was our neighbor, a civilian, less than one block away.

Ahmeds neighbors house -- destroyed — Ahmed’s neighbor’s house — destroyed

Ambulances came to get some injured and martyrs. My family went back to dinner and started to eat without hesitation even though the dinner was cold. I went bed, but whenever I tried to fall asleep, a dreadful sound of bombing awakened me. I was up until the sun rose.

When the morning came, there was no breakfast and no lunch because we had not been able to get out of the house to go shopping and buy some food. My father decided to take me along with him to risk walking in the street to go to the market. I was hungry, but I couldn’t say so to my father because I knew that he was hungry too, so I kept patient until we reached a supermarket. We relied on canned food for two reasons. First, there was no electricity after the electricity company had been targeted by Israeli artilleries; consequently, it wouldn’t do to keep fresh food inside the fridge. Second, canned food is easier to prepare quickly. I was already used to spending days without electricity meaning that there was no Internet to communicate with the outside world, no news to be heard on TV, no water in the rooftop tanks because the pump needs electricity, and no fresh food to be kept in the fridge. Only my cell phone’s radio kept me up to date with the breaking news, because it was charged on my father’s car battery.

Five days later, someone called my father’s cell phone and his facial expression changed. We were eating lunch so he didn’t say anything about the call.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” “Did something bad happen?” I asked.

He acted as if he didn’t hear me at first, so, I repeated my question with different words to get his attention. “What’s going on, Dad?” “Is there anything I can do to help you?” I asked.

“No my son, there is nothing you can do about it,” he said.

“Would you let me know then so we can find a solution?” I replied.

“I don’t know how to put this,” he started, “but Umm….” My dad was not able to say what happened directly in front of my family and especially not in front of my mom.

Later that day, he let us know in an indirect way that relatives from my mother’s side had been martyred that day by a Zionist air raid. When my mom heard, she fainted as he had feared, and she woke up with pain squeezing her heart. I tried to calm my siblings down and make them feel better by saying that God would grant them entry into paradise, but I couldn’t take control over their hearts because you just can’t control someone’s emotions. They kept crying because they were very close to the family, considering them brothers, friends and very good relatives molded all in one.

I called my uncle to express my condolences on the loss of his sons; he was heartbroken. My family decided to go to my uncle’s house to console him personally on his loss, so they went and stayed there until evening came. The Red Cross organization brought his body out of the rubble and handed him to his family during a ceasefire that lasted for only 12 hours. His family and mine went to the mosque to pray the funeral prayer. At first, I couldn’t get close to his body to say goodbye to him because I was crying.

Finally, I kissed him on his head. We prayed and after that we took his body to bury it in the cemetery. Although I felt that I couldn’t handle it when I saw people holding his body up in the air to put it in that dark hole in the ground, I went with the flow and told myself I should be very proud of him, for he has the status of being a martyr. The day was almost over and what I thought of was despite the fact that Israel burns up and destroys our mosques, homes, schools, hospitals, and universities and murders our relatives, the Palestinian spirit of struggling for what is rightfully ours will always remain; in fact, we grow stronger each day we are treated with disrespect and denied our dignity, humanity and freedom.

The author:

Ahmed AlQattawi (19 years old) was born in Saudi Arabia but lived in Deir el Balah (Gaza) all his life. Ahmed says, “I like my major, English language and literature, because it makes me see the world from all perspectives.” His university, the Islamic University of Gaza, was bombed in the 2014 Israeli aggression as it had been in previous attacks.

The Islamic University of Gaza after the most recent Israeli bombing

Ahmed says, “I have one lovely brother and four lovely sisters. My father teaches science and my mom doesn’t work outside of our house. I spend my spare time reading various kinds of books to acquire as much knowledge as I can. One funny talent I have is that I can make shapes out of paper with one hand tied behind my back. My dream was always to travel outside my town to study and then come back to my country to improve my community, but because of the unjust siege on the Gaza Strip and the shortage of funds, I have no idea when my dream will come true.”

Guest post: “When the Gaza Sky Burst into Flames” by Mahmoud Khalaf

August 2, 2014 by Nora Lester Murad

It happened many times that I watched on news innocent people forced to evacuate either because of internal conflicts or wars being launched against their countries, but I never thought I’d be one them one day. One day during Israeli deadly military escalation against Gaza when the sky of beloved gorgeous Gaza was in flames burning like a pile of hay, and houses were trembling and shaking. Hearts were beating so fast, bombs were falling like acid rain killing every form of life, stress and tension in the air and only one question to be asked: To leave or not to leave? Would it be safe to leave anyway? And the answer was surely no.

My sisters and brothers were gathering in my room. Some were biting their nails, and others were crying, and they were wondering after tanks shells fell in our area and shrapnel strongly hit our house if we would be the next to leave this world? And if so, how would our parents, who had left for a prayer visit to Mecca before the attack, handle that? Each one was asking the other if they had heard anything yet about a ceasefire, and unfortunately the answer was also no. Apparently, Israeli soldiers are not satisfied yet with the gruesome killing of children, women and people with special needs –the numbers of dead being more than 1300 innocent civilians.

”What are we going to do?” I asked. “Bombs already fell next to us.” My sister suggested we move to my uncle Aref’s house immediately. I thought, ”What if they shoot us while we’re heading to there?” But I could never show what I was thinking because I couldn’t bear to see my sisters crying and more frightened. Our decision was finally made:We would go to uncle Aref’s house. My brother called his friend to take us in his car; indeed, my brother knew that no taxis would be available and only a friend would do us this favor.

It’s like death is hunting people everywhere down the streets and crossroads. The car finally arrived and was waiting for us, and I could finally take a breath after holding it for a very long night. I took a look in my older brother’s eyes and I was shocked and surprised by the amount of fear and tension that I could touch in his expression. ”Goodness, is this person really my brother? I mean it’s not the first time we’re going through an aggressive Israeli attack. Besides, during the last attack in 2012 when I told him that we should move to a safer place, he laughed and said: “Go to sleep and everything will be just fine.” What changed? Was he aware of any imminent danger? And if so, why was I not aware of it?” I was thinking.

Half of the fear that was constantly knocking on my heart was coming solely from my looking at my brother.

Bags packed, car waiting to take us to a new challenge,outcome unknown.” Thank goodness, we finally reached a safe place!” I said. My uncle’s family were very generous, welcoming and amazingly made it much easier on us to leave home; indeed, we even couldn’t feel the time that passed as we were talking and playing cards together. Our hearts stopped with each phone ring because it could have been bad news about someone close to us being killed or injured by intensive brutal Israeli planes, tanks and battleship shelling. Or it could have been an order from the Israeli occupation forces to evacuate quickly because they believed a civilian house in Gaza represented a serious threat to the safety of Zionist colonists; therefore, it must be wiped out.

A killing silence arose in the air when my uncle’s phone rang. ”Is it a bad news about any of our relatives? Or the Israelis?” everyone waited to know. Neither of our fears was correct. It was a call from a neighbor telling my uncle to leave home quickly because the Red Crescent directly next to my uncle’s house got a bomb warning from the Israeli occupation forces! Evacuate again? To where? We left quickly and headed to my other uncle’s house in the same area. The point of moving to Uncle Azzam’s was that it’s a little further and it’s a first floor apartment, while Uncle Aref’s was fourth floor flat, and it’s much more dangerous to stay in a multistory building. After waiting for an hour at Uncle Azzam’s, we went back to Uncle Aref’s apartment after he got a call from a neighbor telling him the Red Crescent would not be hit, that it was just a rumor.

That night when we returned, the Bader family,just a short street away from us, was hit. We could hear them shouting and screaming,calling for help, calling for ambulances. More than four ambulances went there and took dozens of martyrs and seriously injured people. In addition, many areas and houses were hit and we felt like someone was grabbing our hearts with each explosion. After three days of sitting in my uncle’s house, we made up our minds to go back to our own house. My uncle’s family had been welcoming, but we also didn’t want to be a heavy burden. We returned home safe and sound. We had missed our home a lot.

Apparently there is no such thing as a “safe place” in Gaza anymore. What did Gaza do, under siege for eight years, to deserve being attacked with this cruelty and barbarism? My family is a typical example of a Gazan family, and our everyday life during Israeli escalations is like the life of everybody else. Israel is equipped with military and technologically modern weapons and internationally-forbidden weapons. As I write, they continue to kill poor civilians. Only Allah knows how this will end….

* * * *

Mahmoud is a 19-year-old student of English Literature at the (recently bombed) Islamic University of Gaza. He has five lovely sisters and three lovely brothers. They live in Gaza City.

I taped interviews with Mahmoud about his experiences during #GazaUnderAttack on July 13, 2013, which you can watch here (14 min), and on July 10, 2014, which you can watch here (7 min)

Follow Naja at @WhateverInGaza.

(20 min.)

And if you love Najla as much as I do, you may want to see previous conversations we’ve recorded:

July 17, 2014 on ground invasion during #GazaUnderAttack (8 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqcN1EymIco&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

July 13, 2014 Nighttime update on #GazaUnderAttack (20 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cW–Nyu6H2U&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

July 11, 2014 update on #GazaUnderAttack (21 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XmTvtoC7AM&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA&index=8

July 10, 2014 update on #GazaUnderAttack (14 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmPGsEfCA8o&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

And before the recent escalation:

May 3, 2014 about the beach in Gaza (4 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgbCpD-eAk8&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

April 29, 2014 Even more about electricity (5 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uH4eW5mO-r8&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

April 24, 2014 How do women dress in Gaza? (4 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEPnVrxJfBc&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

April 21, 2014 More about electricity in Gaza (7:40 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYDZUoif2Xw

April 18, 2014 Electricity in Gaza (7 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4nDLtLlpSA&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

April 12, 2014 What is the siege on Gaza? (6 min)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eYvibUTb0w&list=UU3f9es6ASkFcjaaLMP5RvbA

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