As I closed the door behind me, I heard my child sobbing uncontrollably.
Just as I headed out, I heard that the Israeli government had announced a three-hour lull in fighting. I wondered what they thought we could do in three hours: Banks are closed and the Israeli government is restricting money coming into Gaza, shops are shut or their shelves empty, people now have to queue for up to six hours just for a loaf of bread—or nothing, markets have very little, people cannot afford increased prices, water systems are not working, people are scared to leave their homes, roads are blocked. What real difference to people's lives will these three hours make?
My colleague, who I was with, returned briefly to his home. He fled from it with his family a few days ago after bombing caused the ceiling to collapse. When he joined me again he was devastated. His house had become unrecognizable—worse than when he had left it. It is now in need of total reconstruction. He told me that his mum and brother refused to leave with him. They are now seeking refuge in a United Nations school building and are among the 13,000 people that are estimated to have become displaced as a result of this conflict. I wonder how many have been left homeless.
He was trembling while speaking with me: "My mother is an old woman, she is 80 years old. The poor lady has been reduced to sleeping on a concrete floor. She has been given a blanket but this has to serve as a pillow and mattress too. People are queuing in lines to get food. It reminds me of the images I have seen of 1948."
His eyes welled up as he continued: "My mother is so scared. She cannot stop crying. I fear for them every waking hour. Nowhere is safe anymore. What is happening is outrageous. When people fled their homes to the UN building that was bombed yesterday they thought that they were going to a protected place. This is probably why so many children were brought there... to then only be killed. She and my brother are not safe there ...none of us are safe."
This feeling of insecurity invades our every breath... we struggle to breathe; we are slowly being suffocated.
I was welcomed home by my family as if I had just returned from an epic journey to a distant land. I soon learned that during the three-hour lull my brother went out in search for food. The market was almost empty. There is no fruit and very few vegetables. Tomatoes are eight times more than before this horror started—few people will be able to afford anything. While we were talking, our neighbors came over clutching their empty jerry can. With no fuel or electricity they have no water. We are fortunate to still have our generator working again so we gladly filled their can up.
We are all waiting for a ceasefire. We are exhausted. We have spent every waking moment petrified. We have endured days of death and destruction, and we will spend years mourning our family and friends.
It is nearly two weeks since this horror began, and more than a year and a half since we have been locked in Gaza and denied a dignified life. And today all the international community and the Israeli government could muster was a three-hour break in fighting. What can we do in three hours? Bury dead bodies?
No one will ever be able to bring back the lives lost during this conflict but there is still time to give those who are still living a chance for a decent life.
