♫ Tell his mother to celebrate and rejoice, spray the pillows with rosewater and henna ♫
♫ Oh my house you shall receive many greetings and the builders will heighten you, the wedding is ours and the bride and groom shall rejoice ♫
Our society is accustomed to beautiful traditional songs. They are sung in our country to initiate celebrations of a new marriage or a new family. However, the war has created different ways to celebrate newlyweds. Take Saber for example, a young man in his prime, one of dozens whose dreams have vanished under the weight of the Zionist Occupation. He works in a sweets factory, and as the eldest brother, he has been his family’s sole breadwinner for years since his father became ill and bedridden. He wanted to marry Maram, his late uncle’s daughter, who lived in the same building. So, he proposed to her five months before the war, and the wedding date was set for mid-October in 2023.
.Nabil Anani, “Towards Freedom,” Palestine Poster Archive, Keffiyeh 2002
Saber had begun preparing their marital home. Like any bride, Maram began shopping for everything she might need in her new home. As Saber was about to complete the preparations, what felt like an earthquake took him by surprise. It struck not only the house, but also the neighborhood, and the entire Strip. It was the war, again. In a panic, he ran to his family's house to check on them, only to find that one of his two brothers, Khaled, who worked as a carpenter, was not home. Saber assumed Khaled was still completing a shift at the carpentry, so he went upstairs to Maram's house and checked on her and her family. Everyone was okay. Hours later, Saber was shocked by the return of his brother as a lifeless, bloody body carried over his friends’ shoulders. He was martyred during a targeted attack on the carpentry where he was working.
A week after his brother’s martyrdom, the attacks from the Israeli Occupation Forces intensified. The escalations forced Saber, Maram, and their families to flee to their relatives in the city of Khan Yunis in Southern Gaza.
Israeli planes dropped leaflets into the northern neighborhoods of the Gaza Strip, demanding that people “evacuate” to the south, claiming that it was a safe area. So they fled, leaving behind the house they had prepared but had not yet lived in. It was bombed shortly after they left. Just as they settled in Khan Yunis, Israel’s bombardment and destruction caught up with them, and they were forced to evacuate once again, this time toward Rafah City.
After much suffering, Saber obtained tents for his and Maram’s families from one of the humanitarian organizations in Rafah. The conditions in Rafah were much better compared to what they had experienced in the cities of Gaza and Khan Yunis. But a month into their displacement the two families were startled by violent Israeli airstrikes targeting the tents of displaced people. The tents caught fire, and hundreds of people were killed. Both families tried to escape amidst the blazing fires and burning bodies, but the flames surrounded them from all directions leaving no way out. It was difficult for them to escape, especially as they had Saber's father, who was sick, in their company. In addition to the fire that was approaching and nearly burning them, the smoke almost suffocated them to death. This all was on top of the cruel and horrific scenes that unfolded before their eyes, from screams that shook the ground to children’s cries that caused their parents heartache.
A man gathered his wife and daughters close to him and tried extinguishing the fire with a blanket, but the fire was faster than him. It burned his wife and all his daughters. A mother hugged her infant child and tried to protect him, but the fire burned them both. There were many other chilling scenes. It was hours before firefighters were able to douse the fire and save those who survived.
Saber, Maram, and their families were among those who were rescued. None of them had sustained any physical injuries, save for some minor burns, except for Saber’s father. He had inhaled a lot of smoke. The psychological wounds caused by the fires; however, were much deeper. Their extent can be seen in how Saber’s younger sister Ahlam, who was only 15, went into a state of shock and lost her ability to speak. Saber’s mother would scream and cry: “Oh God! What is happening to us?! These are but the horrors of doomsday.”
They were all treated at Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis, and then discharged the next morning because there were no rooms available to keep them in. The hospital was full of critical cases. They then moved into a large tent in Deir al-Balah, erected on land that belonged to one of the locals who had agreed to let displaced people stay. Weeks later, their wounds had healed, and Saber began looking for work to support his family. It was difficult to find work in light of the country’s ongoing situation, but he did not falter or lose hope. He continued searching when the idea of making and selling sweets suddenly popped into his head.
The raw materials needed to make sweets, especially sugar, were very expensive at that time. Saber was therefore forced to borrow a sum of money from one of his friends. With that money, he bought the ingredients needed for “Karabej Aleppo,” a Syrian dessert similar to churros, and made them with the help of his mother and fiancée Maram. His project succeeded and brought in revenue, and just like that, making sweets became a source of income for him.
Months passed. Maram’s mother suddenly received news of her family’s martyrdom. Her mother, sisters, brothers, and all their children were all killed when the house they fled to in Deir al-Balah was targeted in an airstrike. Maram’s mother grew lonely, without a husband or a family, but the presence of her daughters by her side comforted her. Saber began to feel responsible for supporting Maram’s family alongside his own. So he decided to expand his project and started making large batches of “Karabej Aleppo” so that he could sell them wholesale to street vendors. This endeavor was a success, especially because his desserts were in high demand due to the lack of sweets and biscuits in Gaza’s markets.
The days of war were prolonged, so people began to adapt to these tough days with all the anxiety, loss, and insecurity that filled them. But because of the steadfastness of our people, and their love for life and its joys, they tried to extract moments of happiness amidst the sorrow. They started planning their children’s weddings in tents and displacement centers, surrounded by simple displays of joy. Saber’s mother was saddened both by the loss of her son Khaled, who had not yet entered his third decade on the first day of the war, and by the state that her daughter Ahlam was in. However, she still wanted to celebrate her son Saber’s marriage to Maram, who was still mourning the martyrdom of a cousin that she had considered her best friend.
Saber and Maram got married without their relatives or friends and the traditional wedding processions. Their long-awaited wedding day was void of merrymaking, and Maram never got to wear a white wedding dress. The house that was meant to be their residence was bombed so their marital home was a flimsy plastic tent. The next day, news of their marriage had spread to the neighboring tents, so the neighbors gathered and headed to the newlyweds’ tent. They insisted on throwing a simple party, singing traditional songs, and offering their congratulations. Saber’s mother distributed “Karabej Aleppo” amongst the attendees, who were able to bring some joy to the newlyweds and their families after everything they had been through.
This testimony was translated by Maya ElHawary.
