Northern Gaza, Palestine – We didn't have a house to return. And the city of Gaza we did not know again. But we came back.
Why? They may also have a state of our past life – before August 2023. Maybe the thoughts we left before Migration to the south had still been, to tell you back.
In any sense, the real ungodly gave us the Growing was cruel and strange. I realized that he was a stranger, where I spent 30 years old.
I wander in the streets I didn't know, I lost the middle of the greatest destruction. I tried to find a way from my family, which, though it stood, had deepest wars. I walked on one street, in another – no more known to guide.
There are no work, without internet, no electricity, no transport – even water. My return to return to be difficult – damage and damage was where I turned.
Dummer, started through the remaining family expenses. My goal was to arrive where my house was standing. I already knew that it was no longer – I saw pictures.
But when I stood there, the front of the seven-based seven memories I remembered with my family, I became silent.
House can be rebuilt
One of my neighbors, who returns from moving to the south, arrived. We turned smiles as we looked for the damage to the work of our life. WERE WERE MORE AGAIN than I – some of the things of a few, some old clothes.
But I didn't get anything. My house was in the first place, was buried in a lot of grades of garbage.
Building my friend, ABDDELHAHAM ABA RUHAS, has arrived. I told him I wasn't surprised, even if anything. Wasn't that I wasn't feeling sorry, but since I came into the state of to feel the pain – Ontresthsia alone, maybe my heart's survival system began to protect me from madness.
My husband, on the other hand, were angry, even to silence.
We decided to leave and when I turned my damaged home, very painful in my heart. There is no sleep now, there's no place to mention.
But what caused us to be damaged I know that we were not alone – all the city stopped ruins.
“We were surviving, and we are all safe,” I told my husband, trying to encourage him. Then, to keep in mind the danger of 15 months ago – he was a traveler Hospitals are a refugee – rushed back. I reminded him: “We're better than all their families lost their families, than young girls lost their feet. Our children are safe, we are safe.
We say that often in Gaza, and it's true. But it does not solve the weight of loss.
'Beware of Water “
Unable to walk forward, we went home from my house. We were told that it was still existing but when we came through the damage, we were unable to recognize the house.
This is where we are, what's left: two rooms, bathrooms and kitchen.
But once again, there was no place to shake here. The survival needed to be based on, even if we were a little bit. This is the rulership.
Inside, we found refreshing. When my husband's brother had come to our brother before us, my brother washed a little and shut water. His only warning: “Press up with the water. No one was left in all around.”
The original sentence was enough to make the last hope from me. I felt an abuse, nausea, tiredness. I can't decide nothing but water – only water.
The building of a house trash was destroyed. The walls were torn and open. The floor and floor of the ground is completely witnessed. Life here is barren with no Baang.
And what made it a porch of the porch that requires damage to the face when they can see – the greatest, very big, very large to minimize suffering.
A friend who had been in North told me much time saying: “North has been destroyed. It's impossible.” Now I trust him.
My mother's dresses
The next morning, I went to the house of my parent in Sheiwan, and I worked for the reason why I would have known the US photos – the house was still located, but was locked by fire.
A Army of Israel He was sitting in it for a moment before he put into the fire when they went away, told us.
We found a video on Tukok, a soldier who was drawn only McDonald sandwich in one brother's room and looking at the surroundings.
I wandered the building, I walked so much because of the memories that were reduced to ashes and trash. Only one room left in the fire: my parents' room. The fire did not touch them.
I entered my mother's room. I lost my mother on May 7, during the war.
His clothes are still hanging in a room in accordance with Malawi. His Qur'an, His Prayer Seat – It was all about, covered with weighing dust and broken glass.
Everything stuck in comparison with when I stood my lamps of my final mother, and change her dress, and remove the dust.
“This is dressing for my Mohammed brother's wedding,” I firmly boast. “And this … of Moataz.”
I grabbed my phone to call my sister, south, my words shaking between Sobbs between Sobbs.
He had joy, announcing that he would running northern morning to see our Mother's property.
This is what the life setting here – waste everywhere, but we are interested in each piece, each fibers that unite Toya.
Just think of the exact meaning of the way to be possible to be damaged mostly – my dear mother.
Not Gaza I've ever known
Two days later, after pouring it through the damaged, I urged me to leave my grief.
I decided to go to the Baptist Hospital in the morning, hope to meet my classmates, regaining self-esteem and trying to work on new stories.
I walked for a long time, unable to get a walk. My clothes soon covered with dust – all that remained after the houses were taken by the Israelite bomb.
Each of the passage of the same, covered with grays from heads to TEE, eyelashes enriched with debris.
And around me, the people were cleaning their houses. The stones were crushed from the floor from the floor as men and women of the garbage, dust straight into the air, swallow all roads.
A woman stood for me and asked where she would again make her debt. I did not hesitate, and then I came out: “I'm sorry to marry, I'm not” I don't know. “
I left, surprised by my response. My conscience has accepted – this was no longer Gaza I know.
I knew Gaza. Every Street – Al-Jalaa, Shat Camp, Sheikh Radwan, Al-Jugo. I know all the roads behind, every market, a famous cook, all restaurants, every place. I knew that I would get the best cookies, very beautiful clothes, branches of here tiecuts, which provide Internet.
But now?
Now, there was no place left. No signs of traffic. There are no points about. Does this happen again?
I continued to walk down Al-Jalaa Street, suffer from putting the past to the past. Sometimes I'm able, sometimes I have a photo to learn later, to match the past.
North and south
Finally, I found a headboard car. Driver made themselves up to be close to a woman on the front seat. In the back, five other women were being despised.
He is in the way, the driver took someone to go up, hiring him in the last place.
Every time it is like an error – a plan full of my head.
At the hospital, my memory has been rewritten at the Al-Aqsa Martyrs in Dero El-Aqsa While Marty Consults – Only a place with electricity since the warriors started.
This time, the faces were different, and it seemed that the prophets came from the north encountered war different from the way we had been in the southern.
I always moved through the sea, every time we met the reporter, I whispered to Abellim: “Does this person come from north? Or was he with us in the south?”
It was a real question. Discussion, sight, Words of words – all had different, depending on the battle.
Yes, there was death and destruction in the south, Israel, killed Rafah, Deir El-Bah-Ban UNIS. But it was different in Gaza and Northern Gaza – people here had endured pain so we didn't just have.
Whenever I know my sides, my face stopped, standing, and shared the news al-Rashid's stories, and asks about the view of their first house.
This is where I understood: We were worried about our city.
The suffering will also be
The war of Israel just just simply closed Gaza's place and the people inside it. Made new signs in fire, to split in the way we did not think.
The deer the truth, pleasant – we lost Gaza, repeatedly, His people, the Holy Spirit.
For 15 months, we thought that the most influential accident – the captivity in the captivity was tunting. The people cried home, only dreaming.
But now, return looks like so sad. South, we were invited “. North, now we are” returns “, people who are to rot because of the outs of the flows.
Sometimes, we feel guilty. But what choice do we have?
And now, we will have a shrewd habit – a little unreasonable, incredible signality that has been in our hearts since we left, and we see in the eyes of those who left them.
I thought that the day that we returned to the end of the war, however, I was still saying: “This highway is with blood.”
I am willing to put the last time, why we can resume – even if the beginning is painful. But there is no time. Don't close. No end.
I'm pulling you in the future, the dust ripped my clothes that I don't worry to be shaken. Tears mix up with trash, and I don't.
The fact is that we have been abandoned to rename the festival, freeway: “We have lost. We don't have the rest of it to repair. No resumes.
We have lost this city, my friends.
Gaza we love and knows and knows that he is dead – defeated, to move and be alone.
But even there is anything, still living in us.