In Gaza, no privacy, no peace: this is what our lives look like a year after the ‘ceasefire’ | Akram al-Sourani
A year after the announcement of a 'ceasefire' in Gaza, the specter of war continues to haunt daily life as residents face severe shortages of basic necessities and constant fear of bombardment.
Every morning, Gazans stand in queues for water, a stark reminder of how their lives have been stripped of basic privacy and dignity. A year after the announcement of the 'ceasefire' in Gaza, the specter of war, bombardment and death has never left their lives. War is not simply the bombing of buildings or the evacuation of neighborhoods; it manifests in the daily struggles for water, sanitation, and space.
Thirty people crammed into a single room, the constant buzzing of surveillance drones, and the endless wait to use basic facilities have become the new normal. Children walk long distances to school through dangerous streets, while parents worry they might be taken by bombardment at any moment. Life itself seems to be rationed, drop by drop, as essential supplies trickle into the region.
In Gaza, to be alive is to live on the edge of death. As though we are still trapped in October 2023, when the course of our lives was redrawn into a new geography, and evacuation became a matter of Israeli orders dropped from the sky on leaflets.
Lost Lives
The war has fundamentally changed who Gazans are as people. 'We left everything behind,' writes al-Sourani. 'We left the stairwell, the curtains and the windows. The sofas, the router, the 55in television, the pressure cooker on the stove, the unwashed dishes – and half a lemon that, for some ridiculous reason, we always insisted on keeping in the fridge door.'
Three years of displacement, tents and fear have reshaped how children experience education. 'School years are no longer measured in grades and certificates, but in the number of years children have spent displaced,' al-Sourani observes. 'Third year of tent school.' The writer notes that words he once wrote in satire have become the details of daily life.
Endless Waiting
From Gaza to Khan Younis, to Rafah, to al-Mawasi, to al-Zawayda, to Deir al-Balah, residents have moved from tent to what remains of their homes, arriving safely in the unknown. 'Our dreams have yet to arrive. Our hopes have yet to arrive. I fear they may have evaporated somewhere along the way,' al-Sourani writes.
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