Imagine waking up in the morning and heading straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You turn on the faucet, but no water flows. Frustrated, you walk to the kitchen, hoping to make a cup of coffee or prepare breakfast. You turn the burner knob, but no flame appears. Resigned, you try to charge your phone or turn on the light, only to find that there's no electricity. For most people, this might seem like a temporary inconvenience. But for the people of Gaza, this is a daily reality. Since the beginning of the war, the Israeli Occupation has systematically pushed Gaza back into the Stone Age. Tasks that should take seconds now stretch into hours, turning simple routines into difficult challenges.
The struggle for water
Water is life, yet here it is a scarce treasure. My older brother begins his day before the sun rises, racing against time to secure a place among the first 50 people in line for water. He treks three kilometers beneath the relentless sun, hoping to fill two gallons of precious water. For our family of six, this water is never enough. We ration every drop, making sacrifices at every turn. Showers are unheard of luxuries, faces are washed once a day, and dirty clothes pile up, a silent testament to our struggle. Each drop of water is a decision, a calculation of need versus necessity. We are reminded of how easily life's essentials can slip away.
Cooking without gas
Cooking, once a simple pleasure, has become an arduous task. With cooking gas cut off, my father embarks on daily journeys to gather wood, the only fuel we have left. The firewood crackles and pops, releasing thick black smoke that fills our lungs and stings our eyes. The air is heavy with ash. Respiratory issues have become commonplace, with coughing and labored breaths accompanying every meal. Our diet is monotonous, limited to canned foods and legumes. Fresh vegetables and meat are memories of a past life, distant and unreachable. We eat not to enjoy, but to survive, with each meal a battle against hunger.
The challenge of charging batteries
Electricity, a lifeline to the modern world, is now a rare and precious commodity in Gaza. As the Israeli Occupation cuts off power, our lives plunge into seemingly endless darkness. The absence of electricity isn't just an inconvenience; it’s a daily battle for connection, a struggle to stay informed and maintain hope.
Every day, my seven-year-old brother embarks on a daunting mission to charge our phones. He stands in line for hours under the hot sun, clutching our last lifeline to the outside world. The line snakes around the block, filled with people who, like us, are desperate to power their connection to hope and safety. Each charge is a precious gift, rationed like gold, and must last until the next opportunity — an opportunity that may not come again soon.
As the phones power up, they become our beacons in the darkness, our voices that reach beyond these borders. Every minute of battery life is spent carefully, sending messages to loved ones, checking for news, and sharing our stories with the world. The fear of losing that connection is constant. We know that once the battery dies, we are cast into silence, cut off from the voices of family and friends that remind us we are not alone.
Holding on to hope
Yet, amid this hardship, the people of Gaza remain unyielding. Our resilience is forged in the fires of adversity. Neighbors become family as we share resources and support one another through the darkest of times. Hope flickers like a candle in the night, guiding us forward. In Gaza, every day is a testament to the strength of the human spirit. We cling to hope, for even in the depths of despair, the promise of a brighter future fuels our resolve. One day, Gaza will rise from the ashes, and the resilience of its people will light the way. Until then, we persist, for hope is a powerful force that cannot be extinguished.
