An Islamic Relief aid worker* in Gaza weighs heartbreaking options as he looks towards a bleak future almost 6 months into the deadly escalation in Gaza.
It is around 170 days since the war began and I cannot see an end to it. My endurance is running out, I can’t continue living this hard life. Nothing comes easily – even breathing is hard… going to the bathroom is hard, finding a meal is hard. I do not know how much more I can stand; I am not used to this hardship. I was living a dignified life, in my own home, with everything I needed. Since we fled our home, me and my family have been living at my mum’s house with 3 of my siblings and their families. We are not in the best mental health. Everyone wishes to return to their own comfortable home, to the way things used to be, and to just close their door and have some privacy.
My mum is always worried about the amount of food, water, and batteries we’re going through. Since my father passed away she had lived alone in this house, so now her own routine has been interrupted. Her pension covers her basic needs but now there are so many more people in the house. I help her make ends meet as best as we can.
Before all this, my mum had wanted to save some money to travel to Saudi Arabia to visit my sister. Last year we had visited my other sister in Türkiye. Our limited income and the high prices of supplies makes it impossible to even mention it now, especially since my other siblings can’t provide for their families. We cook and eat together and everyone who can provide something does; we all share. But there is tension in the house. We struggle to secure limited resources, and sometimes we squabble among ourselves. It is hard. Everything is hard. We dread the bombs and news of loved ones passing away.
I can’t stand anymore.
I wish we could go back in time to before October 7. I really wish that we could wake up from this nightmare. I wish I could return to my neighbourhood, drive my kids to school, get up early to go to work, see my friends, or just drive aimlessly through the streets of my beloved city. I really miss the city. I did not imagine I would have these feelings for that place. It is like the city has become a part of my heart. My dear, beloved Gaza is now totally destroyed.
Bitter choices, hardly any choice at all
When I think of how to bring an end to this situation, I think of 3 options, all of which are bitter:
My first option: Stay strong and endure the pain until the war ends, at which point we might return to our homes in Gaza. Perhaps we could return to our now uninhabitable house and start looking for another place to stay. I could rent a flat, but it would be hard, as very few residential units have survived the fierce bombing. If any remain intact, they will cost a fortune to rent.
Let’s say I was lucky and found a place to rent, then an exhausting ordeal to secure electricity would begin. I’d need to get solar panels and batteries but there aren’t many left in Gaza. If I found any, they would be second hand and might not work well. Plus, they would cost triple the price they used to cost.
Another problem would be water supply. I managed to call our building attendant, and he told me all the water tanks on top of the building have been punctured so can’t be used anymore. The only domestic company manufacturing the tanks has also been destroyed. We will have to wait until imports of such things are allowed. They are not even allowing food into Gaza now, so thinking about a time when water tanks will be allowed in again feels fanciful.
In my house, our storage room where we kept all my kids’ clothes as well as some of mine and my wife’s has gone – totally burned to ashes by the missile that hit the room. Today, we can’t find clothes in the south area of the Gaza Strip, and I do not think we would find any if we returned to Gaza City either. We will just have to get by with the few clothes we have.
But what about school? How will my kids receive an education? What about medical care? What about the streets? The internet? The markets? The mosques? Everywhere we used to go… will they even still exist? Despite all the challenges I can imagine, I like this option the best and I hope this fantasy of returning home can become a reality. We will work to rebuild. I know it would take time, but Palestinians can make miracles.
Leaving for a life unknown
My second option: Leaving Gaza temporarily or for the long term. This is not an easy path. Firstly, it currently costs more than $5,000 for an adult and $2,500 for a child to leave. We would need around $15,000 USD to pay for myself and my family to leave. I do not have enough cash. I manged to set up a GoFundMe campaign, but it’s nowhere near the total. I could sell my car to help pay for it, but then how would we travel?
Nor would we be swapping Gaza for a utopia. It would mean starting over from scratch – finding work, looking for a place to stay, finding new schools for my kids, buying new clothes, new furniture… new everything. I don’t know if I have the strength to start over, to go into the unknown.
In neighbouring Egypt, local citizens are struggling with unemployment so finding work is a challenge for a new arrival. My age and my health means jobs in restaurants, shops or hotels are unlikely to fit. In Egypt, Palestinians are not allowed official papers to stay in the country, nor can they apply for a visa to immigrate to another country. The life there is so expensive, and once someone is known to be a Palestinian, the price doubles.
I can’t even pay to rescue my wife and 2 children, let alone my whole family. In Egypt, I would still live in fear worrying about my family that stayed behind in Gaza. My mum says she would never leave her house, fearing she might forget her memories with dad. My wife can’t imagine her life away from her parents, who are old and need a lot of assistance. I would not be able to return to check on my house. I would be leaving all my memories behind, and my family of 4 would be starting out in a diaspora of families spread all over the world.
As these 2 options are bitter, then maybe comfort lies in death. Yes, I am a believer, and I am certain Allah’s reward is great, so why not wish for death? It would bring peace. No more worrying, no more suffering, no more starvation, no more hardship. It is the best resort, the last one.
Please help Islamic Relief continue to support people in desperate need in Gaza: Donate to our Palestine Emergency Appeal now.
*This blog is anonymised to protect the safety and security of our colleague and others mentioned.
Read the other blogs in this series here.
Editor’s note: This blog was submitted amid a fast-changing and deepening crisis. The information was correct as of Friday 21 March 2024.
