October 9, 2024
GAZA – “I thought it was the Day of Judgement,” says a 19-year-old Palestinian woman while recounting October 7 events.
“I thought it was the Day of Judgement,” said Dema Alnajjar, a 19-year-old Palestinian woman, as she recalled the events of October 7, 2023 — the day Tel Aviv first started bombarding Gaza in retaliation to Hamas’ attacks on Israeli territory.
“I took a deep breath and realised they were missiles,” said Alnajjar, who uses her Instagram account to raise donations and help her community.
A year into the bombardment of Gaza, Israel has killed over 41,802 Palestinians, many of them women and children. The ongoing attacks have destroyed much of Gaza’s infrastructure, while the blockade on essential supplies has led to the spread of diseases in the besieged enclave, compounding the humanitarian crisis.
Dema described how she was asleep when loud sounds jolted her from her slumber at 6am on the fateful day last year.
She saw her brother preparing to go to school and hugged him. “I knew he was afraid,” she said. “After a few hours, everything was clear. My uncle and his son were killed on October 7.”
When I first interviewed Dema, six months into the onslaught, she and her family had been displaced to Rafah, the southernmost town in the Gaza Strip.
They had fled their home in search of safety, but like many others, they were living under constant threat as the bombardment continued to target even southern regions of Gaza.
Back in March, when Israel threatened a ground invasion of Rafah, US President Joe Biden declared it his “red line” and announced that he would not supply Israeli forces with arms if they proceeded with the invasion of the southernmost town.
However, Tel Aviv crossed this so-called “red line” in the most brutal way, with footage revealing Israeli forces taking pleasure in shooting at signboards and buildings from their tanks.
Since Israel’s ground invasion of Rafah and the surrounding areas, the Biden administration has increased its financial aid to the US’s military ally in the Middle East. The most recent instalment of military aid dispatched to Israel totalled $8.7 billion.
“It has become very easy for tanks to come in and out on a weekly basis,” Dema, who currently resides in Khan Younis, told me. “Some people flee quickly to survive, while others prefer to stay in their homes or tents. Some survive, while most die because of the shelling and random bombing.”
With the world’s attention shifted toward Israel’s attack on Lebanon, which has killed more than 2,000 and, according to the UN, displaced over a million people, it is important to note that Israel has not lessened its onslaught on the Gaza Strip.
Many Palestinians, while still enduring the brutality of the invasion, have expressed immense sorrow and even guilt over the circumstances in Lebanon.
“The massacres here [occur] daily. The pain has doubled because of the bombing of Lebanon,” Dema noted, adding that the media attention was more focused on the neighbouring country now.
Over the last year, Israel’s brutality in the Gaza Strip has displaced around 1.9 million Palestinians. When I spoke to Dema in March, she had already been displaced four times; now, she revealed that since our last conversation, she has been forced to move again, bringing the total number of times she has been uprooted to eight.
Dema’s family had moved to a new house a month before Israel invaded the Gaza Strip. She said that out of the two homes that her family owned, the newest house had thankfully survived Israel’s bombardment.
“We own two houses, the first house where I spent my whole life was completely destroyed and so was my heart. I was very sad about it but we have to be patient.”
Her family has currently taken shelter in their second home along with four displaced families. She described the difficulty of constantly being on the move and the resolve her family had made to avoid displacement again.
“We returned to the house and decided not to be displaced. Now, we prefer death to being displaced again.”
On top of forced famine, Israel has effectively halted adequate aid from reaching the approximately two million Palestinians they have cornered. The lack of access to proper hygiene has led to the spread of diseases, including a resurgence of the poliovirus after 25 years. Women and children are the most affected by the shortage of hygiene products, facing heightened health risks in an already dire humanitarian crisis.
“To be honest I have suffered from many diseases and health deterioration. There are no detergents, soap or sanitary pads. They are available in small quantities and at exorbitant prices.”
Necessities such as a bottle of shampoo cost $27 (Rs 7,495.88), soap costs $6 (Rs 1,665.75), sanitary pads cost $30 (Rs 8,328.75), and diapers cost $40 (Rs 11,105). Skyrocketing prices and limited supply have compelled parents to resort to making cloth diapers for their babies.
“We used to live with dignity and had everything we needed, but now we have returned to primitive methods.”
When we had a conversation before, she had shared a photograph of her disabled grandfather lying on a tent floor; I asked her how he was doing now, a year after the unfolding of a genocide.
“He would rather die than live like this. He lost his eldest son and grandson, is paralysed, and has a shortage of his medication, diapers, linens and urine bags. His situation is very difficult,” she said.
As I spoke to Dema, I noticed a sense of despondency and deep grief that is understandable, given how her life had been abruptly upended. She described it as a profound tiredness, explaining that she experiences both physical and mental fatigue, a heavy burden resulting from the relentless stress and uncertainty of her circumstances.
“I am trying to get better to continue life because the war will not stop to take into account my feelings and sadness.”
A young girl who had just started university, Dema’s life was thrust into chaos and uncertainty after Israel’s bloodthirsty ventures led to the loss of her uncle and cousin, along with ongoing destruction and constant displacement affecting her and many others like her.
She lost contact with her friends, some of whom she had been unable to reach since that fateful day in October, deepening her sense of isolation amidst the turmoil.
“I know about some of them and others I haven’t reached since October 7.”
Relying heavily on e-sims as their sole source of communication, Dema and others face challenges in spreading their voices to the outside world.
Sometimes, sending a voice note is impossible due to erratic internet connections. During my interviews with Dema, there were moments when she could not respond, and if she managed to send a voice note, the din of drones could be heard in the background, a bleak reminder of the ongoing violence and instability surrounding her.
When asked about how the friends she was able to reach were doing, a semblance of frustration and anger seeped through the conversation.
“They are also suffering the horrors of war because we are victims of this damned war.”
The bombardment has claimed the lives of some of her relatives and university friends, adding to her grief and sense of loss.
Despite her grief and battling through migraines and other health problems, Dema has focused much of her strength on helping those around her. She uses the donations she receives from her GoFundMe account to help provide food and water to displaced families. Recently she has found it increasingly difficult to do her volunteer work on a daily basis.
“I used to spend my whole day working and helping the displaced from seven in the morning until nine at night, and now for a week, I have not gone out to work because I am tired. I suffer from nerves in my eyes and migraines.”
While helping distribute vital aid to many displaced families, Dema has seen firsthand the toll that the Israeli invasion has taken on the lives of the children in Gaza. Being deprived of a safe environment, enduring constant trauma, loss, lack of access to food and clean water and having lost an entire year of education has caused immeasurable damage to children.
“Ignorance and diseases have spread among them. Their facial features have changed. Their lives have changed completely. They have grown up before their time. They are children, instead of playing in a safe environment and learning, they have [been forced] into a destructive, unsafe and completely polluted environment.”
While it is essential to highlight the atrocities Israel has inflicted on the Gaza Strip, it is equally crucial to allow the beauty of Palestinian culture space on the pages of written interviews. Dema fondly recalled memories of Gaza, reminiscing about the sounds and laughter that once filled its now-destroyed streets, illustrating the vibrant life that existed before the conflict.
“Everything in Gaza was beautiful: its air, its sea, its streets, and the gatherings of family and friends.”
Outings to farm fields and days at the beach were the moments she cherished most.
“We used to go out to agricultural land full of vegetables, spread out the ground and sit for hours with friends and family. The sea was another world to us. The sea here was very beautiful.”
During Eid, her favourite sweets to serve to guests were Caaek and Ma’amoul. She made it a point to send a voice note with the correct pronunciation.
“Pronounce it caa-ek, it is not cake. It is so delicious actually.”
Caaek also known as Ka’ak-el-Eid are ring-shaped cookies made with dates. The other dessert, Ma’amoul, is dome-shaped butter cookies with a dried fruit filling.
Community, I was told, is a quintessential part of Palestinian culture. Sharing moments of joy and being present in times of grief is vital; emotions are not viewed as burdens of the individual but are felt collectively.
“Love and beautiful gatherings always brought us together. The people here loved each other, and we were sad when others were sad. I used to live in a very warm village full of love. We shared all the occasions,” she said.
Dema’s memories reflect the enduring power of love and community amidst unimaginable loss, serving as a reminder that this is not only her story but the story of all Gazans.