Another letter from Gaza..

Philip,

Every time I think life in here can't get any worse, but surprisingly it does! At work we reached a level where we have money but can't spend it to do any kind of relief work, there is nothing in the local market, no food, no hygiene items, no school bags, no medicine, nothing at all!!!!! We ended up distributing toy kits in times when people can't find anything to eat!!

I am ok Philip but has so much heart aches, it is the feeling of helplessness that kills you and feeling of neglect and disappointment. Today I was in the field to monitor some of our protection activities in Jabalia and I was struck by the scenes of donkey carts standing on the road sides to pick people and to make room for more people on the cart, the cart driver asked the people to ride standing to make space for as many people as possible. While an old lady holding a baby was left there alone cause she was unable to ride standing... Where in the world would you see such humiliating scenes?

In the session children were asked to draw on a white paper a place where they feel more safe and protected, children drew different things and started presenting them, and one child "Mahmoud" started presenting to the rest of the children what he drew "a grave with his name on it" but he further explained that he would feel more protected among those people that he loved and cherished and left all at once. Mahmoud didn't cry, he told me he is a real man and shouldn't cry and because those entombed people are resting in peace away from the sound of shooting and tanks.

Streets are completely empty, taxi's have all kinds of smells and flavors now that driver use cooking oil and gas. At first I had big concerns about taking those bomber taxi's, now I only have concerns about not being able to reach my office! I don't go out anymore, last time I saw Wisam and my friends was on my birthday April 24th, transportation cost it too expensive and I no longer can afford the expenses of my daily movement!

I want to cry Philip, but I am unable, I even feel worse that I might be able to travel, I don't feel good staying, I don't feel good leaving either. I think this is Gaza, you can't afford living inside it and you can't afford leaving it!

Keep us in your prayers, you are so much missed in here my dear friend!

Maha

A Letter from Gaza

My friend Yasmine wrote me this letter from Gaza.
It speaks for itself of a reality we can only imagine from such a distance.



Dear all,

I'm sorry for not being in touch and for not writing sooner, but words are failing me, and I cannot articulate what Gaza feels like right now. A hopeless prison with a dark gloomy cloud over it. It's been raining for three days now and its starting to get cold. Unfortunately with rainstorms, come power outages, so that means there is no water or electric heaters. Gas heaters are not operatable either because of the high gas price, that's when gas is even available. But also because most people are saving their gas for cooking food, rather than using it for heaters, especially with a possible invasion coming in two weeks and the possible cut off of gas. I feel for people without access to heat. I also feel for people like my aunt whose house was demolished and is living in a half built house with no windows that UNRWA stopped building because they ran out of cement and other building materials. It's the beginning of the winter. It's only going to get colder.

I also can't help but think of Gaza's sick and dying….in their frailty, lying there helpless…wishing…hoping…praying that by God's mercy they would be allowed a permit to leave Gaza, or by some sort of miracle someone will save them. But most are denied access..…and most die a slow agonizing death, and only then are their bodies free.

And the world reads about it, but its just another story, another one of Gaza's tragedies. But I wish the world would realize how real this is and how real these sick people are. Some of these sick patients are my uncle who has heart disease, or my little cousin with a tumor, and now unfortunately my aunt's husband who one day was walking, and the next day woke up crippled from a brain tumor. And when you see people you care about so sick and unable to leave Gaza, you first get angry for having such shitty luck, and for the injustice of the world….the type of anger that turns into fury and consumes you, until it becomes exhausting. You then resign yourself to the reality of Gaza's fate…which finally sinks in. But with that reality comes hopelessness and the crippling feeling of helplessness. And so my uncle, my cousin and my aunt's husband lie in a hospital, waiting for their permits, and none of us can do a thing other than pray or chase around people who may know someone who knows someone who can help us with a permit. But we know full well how real death is, and that most just die while waiting. And then a human rights organization issues a statement, yet again, another Palestinian dies because they were denied access to medical care. And their only crime was being born Palestinian in Gaza and falling ill. Nowhere else will you see this but in Gaza. And no place else will the world remain silent at the obscenity of Israel's inhumane acts, except in Gaza.

It's hard to not feel like we're in a large concentration camp as I see Gaza's empty streets, and the hopeless feeling in the air…and just the gloominess that has covered Gaza. I think most people feel abandoned as we are literally locked up in this small, concentrated space and we don't know what the world plans for us, or what to expect next. It's hard to imagine what being in Gaza does to someone's will until you've come here. You no longer feel alive, in fact, you're not living; you're just killing time until some sort of change happens. Sadly, Gaza has become desensitized to the rest of the world, as it feels like the international community has turned a blind eye to the reality that is Gaza, and as long as Israel is allowing some food in and hasn't completely cut off electricity or gas..and as long as we are kept alive, no one will ask about us.

But just because we are breathing, that doesn't mean we're alive.

Yasmine