Oct. 11, 2023

The diaries of a witness to the war, as a doctor in the hospitals of Gaza.

O God, I have seen all there is to be seen. I have seen people rushing to the hospital after bombardments, covered in blood, sand, and ashes. I have seen their faces filled with astonishment at the horror of the event, as if they did not know from the horror of shock what had just happened. I have seen their bodies stop breathing because smoke from the fires had seeped into their throats, or because steel had torn the flesh from their chests.

I have seen bodies come in spewing dust, as if they were a sponge dipped in ash. I have seen children bleeding and falling  into a coma, because heavy rocks fell over their fragile heads. I saw people whose colors, features, and names changed, because at times it is not possible to identify the injured. They say: “Clean his face from the dust, perhaps we will recognize him.” They do so and discover that he is so-and-so, the kind and simple man, who was sitting in his house because he had no place to escape.

I have seen mothers running in corridors, crying as if the world had collapsed in their hearts, panting with overwhelming questions, and screaming: “Are they alive? Who is still alive? Where are my children? oh God, they are all I have.”

 I have seen people perplexed by the large number of victims. “How many dead people did we count today? Did we make a mistake in counting? I told you in the last hour, we received two martyred children, and two children with head hemorrhages. Ten young men at least arrived with no vital signs in one swoop. Lumps of flesh, body parts delivered in a small bag, and heads with exposed brain matter.”

 I have heard the voices of the bereaved screaming at the top of their lungs, until their throats are sore and their voices tore the air. They shout in the martyr’s ear:

“Where did you go and leave me? Who will remain for me after you?”

“You did not tell me that you were going, you could have told me to bid you farewell.”

You feel that their voices are coming out wounded from the depths of the soul, from the heart of the depths of a sad soul.

I heard someone say, “Lord, we are good poor people, so why is all this happening to us?”

 I have seen people discussing the news, politics, and the fate of the war, while sharing opinions, and then they themselves became news in the news reports. I have seen colleagues that you greet in the morning, and then console him for the death of his family in the evening. I sat with someone who was talking to himself, wondering: “All these injured and martyred were like us an hour ago, they were alive a short while ago, I wonder when our turn will come?”

Oct. 14, 2023

Another type of victims of war, besides those directly injured.

Today, a man in his early sixties with cardiovascular disease came to the hospital. He suffered from an acute angina attack, which led to a sharp drop in blood circulation, and stopped his heart.

But, how did this episode occur?

He was displaced, travelling from Gaza to the south in a car with his children, when he saw a rocket’s missile landing on the heads of the displaced people travelling on Salah al-Din Street. He became overwhelmed with fear, astonishment, and distress, in addition to the sorrow that he might have felt for having to leave his home and city, as a refugee to the south.

The truth is, there are victims of a different kind here, human victims who are not directly injured. These are human beings, who react to the events and are frightened like any normal human being. The degree of fear, grief, and despair is so high that it may cause their hearts to completely stop.

Nov. 14, 2023

About the feeling of seeing your city that you love falling, seeing the streets that you love being destroyed, the places that you love, and the sea that you love, and seeing your friends and loved ones falling one after the other, without anyone helping them. All of this is enough to destroy your heart, and make you numb from the intense pain and bewilderment. Oh God, this is too much.

My dream was to live a normal life in Gaza, like any person in the world, who lives in the country in which he was born. I was happy at home, with work, in cafes, and with friends. That was more than sufficient. I cherished my closeness to my father, mother, siblings, trees, and the sea. I hated the thought of exile and did not wish to experience it. Oh God, was I so wrong?

Dec. 24, 2023

I wonder, will I survive and return to my beloved Gaza one day? Will I go back to doing the simple things I love?

Taking long walks in its streets, sitting by the sea in the early hours of the morning to contemplate the vast blue sea and the wide sky above, knowing that the sky and the sea are our only connection to the outside world.

Will I go back to listening to music by the sea with friends, while talking, laughing and mocking the world, singing and chatting until the morning comes?

Will I sit again in that café that serves that amazing coffee and magical Nutella cake, and feel like I am in the most beautiful city of the world? Will I go back to sitting with my mother by the sea to watch the sunset, to witness and celebrate the sun swimming in the sea? A scene that my mother loves so much, and thinks it's the most beautiful scene in life? Will we walk at night on cold days to feel the light wind sting our cheeks and touch the raindrops with our hands?

Will we go back to slowly strolling down Al-Rimal neighborhood and having the best time of our lives in Omar Al-Mukhtar Market? Will we return to our favorite meal? A falafel sandwich with hot sauce from Al Soussi, followed by lemon slush from Kazim Ice Cream- the most delicious combination in the world?

Will we study again at the university, and then sit in Al-Katiba Park?

To watch the bright greenness of the grass, and breathe in fresh air; our natural air conditioning coming from the trees and the sea, as uncle Abu Ahmad says, while preparing tea for us.

Will men go back to the Gaza port at six in the morning to buy fresh fish as soon as it comes out of the sea? O Gaza, will we once again eat fish from your sea, fill our stomachs infinitely, and become overwhelmed with happiness?

Will we go back to taking a tour in the sea waters on a boat from the port?

Will that good family, extending from grandfather to child, return to going to the sea in a big bus on Friday morning to stay until nighttime? while the children celebrate and swim until their souls are touched by the salt and sand, playing and rejoicing until they are tired?

Will I go back to walking in the mornings by the sea without being caught by any missile?

Will I go back to dreaming of becoming the champion of all champions in that luxurious gym that I love, and then go shopping in the most beautiful mall in the world- Carefour?

Will I go back to considering that Gaza is enough to suffice me from all the cities in the world, and that its simple attributes are very capable of providing a full life? Will I go back to hating moving abroad, and trying to stay close to my father, mother, tree, and home?

Will we return to walking in the streets without fear of stumbling upon a corpse in the road, or a broken tree, or a building lying  on the ground?

 Will we know how to walk on the street with even asphalt, instead of broken stones? Oh God, will we wake up from the long nightmare of war and return to Gaza?