My daughters beg us to return to Gaza City, but the life we had no longer exists.
Two days ago, my wife and children almost died.
They were on the ground floor of a four-story building in Khan Younis, Gaza, near a hospital where I sleep in a tent.
They were about to leave to meet me when an Israeli drone strike blew up the top floor.
My 9-year-old twin daughters ran out into the street, screaming. Her mother was hit on the head by a piece of debris and the girls ended up separating from her.
Fortunately, my wife’s injuries were minor. However, my daughters were traumatized. That night my children stayed up crying and I had to call a doctor to ask what we could do to help them sleep.
My family now spends nights near the building that was hit, not knowing if they are safe when they close their eyes.
“They will do anything to feel safe”
Our daughters, my 18-year-old son, my wife and I have had to take shelter in four different places over the past two weeks, since the war broke out, moving from place to place due to Israeli warnings of airstrikes, with our mattresses tied to the roof of the car.
My daughters had to leave behind everything they loved in Gaza City and head south: their school, their friends, their riding club, their favorite pizzeria.
Death and life became the same in Gaza. The bombardment is constant. It is a situation that is too strong for many adults, even more so for children: no 9-year-old child should have to go through this.
My daughters cling to my legs, hug me, do anything to feel safe. It will take them a long time to recover and they will need a lot of support.
Both constantly ask to return to Gaza City, to relative normality.
Before this latest escalation, we lived a better life than 99% of Gazans. Electricity here is limited and most of the water is dirty.
Traveling, even for a short vacation, is difficult. There are 40-year-olds who have never left this small strip.
However, we were lucky enough to be able to take holidays abroad, sometimes for a month or more. This summer we toured Istanbul, Cyprus, Egypt and Jordan. My children almost cried when I told them we had to return to Gaza.
Life in Gaza
In Gaza City we had a large apartment 400 meters from the beach. My wife and I often walked together on the sand in the morning.
My son went to university and my daughters went to a good school: they went swimming at a club and rode horses. They had their own tablets where they could watch YouTube. I would bring candy home to them after work and play with them at night. Sometimes they would fall asleep in my bed and I would take them to their room in the dark.
Now, the neighborhood where my children grew up is deserted and devastated by bombs.
Most nights I would visit a friend’s house and we would play cards and drink coffee.
We tried to go as a family once a week to a good restaurant, usually a pizzeria or a nearby restaurant that prepared meat in a special pot. We all loved going there.
Now, that pizzeria is in rubble.
Despite all the difficulties, we tried to enjoy. Gaza was not always a war zone and when there was a chance for joy, we took it.
We stay united and it is that connection (the love of my wife, my daughters and my son) that gives me strength, even if the situation is good or bad.
Even today, in the midst of this war, we seek moments of happiness whenever we can. My children visit me when I work: they put on my bulletproof vest and helmet and we laugh together. They take the microphone and pose as correspondents.
However, life for them will never be the same again. My daughters keep asking about the places they remember, about the market where we used to shop. They beg to return. They don’t understand that we can’t go back.
Every day, doctors and others who remain in the north tell me about another destroyed building, another destroyed road, and another blown-up gas station.
After the building where my wife and daughters were was attacked, I promised my relatives that I would get them out of Gaza when all this was over and take them to a safe place.
They have already sacrificed enough.
Just before fleeing Gaza City to head south, along with hundreds of thousands of others, I walked through our apartment, cherishing the memories of my family and I living there.
I turned around and said to my wife, “Take a look at this beautiful house. We may never come back.”
Today I sleep in a tent, thinking about my bed, about drinking coffee by the sea. Now those are just dreams.
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BBC-NEWS-SRC: https://www.bbc.com/mundo/articles/cmlrr8pr4dpo, IMPORTING DATE: 2023-10-21 20:50:06
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