In every war, there are stories that are told and there are others that are forgotten.
Some stories may not even seem so important to an outsider who has yet to experience the complete loss of normalcy and the total absence of any kind of security that war – especially genocidal war – brings.
But it is precisely the collapse of all usual standards when you are faced with a daily existential struggle for survival, not just your own, but of everything you hold dear, that also brings out extraordinary courage and love that transcends all boundaries.
On 7 October, we made an early decision to leave our home in the al-Amoudi area in northwest Gaza, not far from the boundary with Israel. Right from the beginning it was clear that our area would not be safe, so we moved to my grandfather’s house in the al-Daraj area of Gaza City, the old part of town.
Our home was the center of our family life. The family factory – where we make sheets, pillows and blankets from imported fabric – was right next to the house by our orchard, filled with olive, lemon and orange trees. And next to these, my father, Abdul Karim – a lifelong lover of animals – kept a purebred he called Shurouq……more