Gaza Diaries: Leen

At first glance, I could not recognize our doorstep. My heart started throbbing heavily in my chest as I stepped onto the rubble. I kept moving around the home, weeping at every corner, unable to believe that my home had been burnt to the ground. I couldn’t process the sight, the smell, and the nearby sounds of clashes. All I could hear and feel was my soul shattering into pieces as I realized that everything I had known for 24 years of my life had been stolen from me.

I have been displaced and made homeless. At the onset of the tragedy of our forced displacement on 12/07/2023, I found solace in dreams of an eventual return. I imagined myself lying on my bed, reading a book from my treasured library, and sharing a meal with my family around the dinner table. However, these hopes were quickly dashed as our home, the source of so many cherished memories, was destroyed. I remember staying in bed for two weeks after the shock until I realized that the luxury of sadness was no longer an option. As a woman, I felt it was my duty to rise and shoulder the burdens of daily life. I was determined to be strong for the sake of my family.

In the span of 251 days, we relocated numerous times, traversing Rafah, Al Mawasi, Khan Younis, and, most recently, Al Nuseirat. I still find it hard to get used to the hardships of displacement and to adapt to new places. The timing of our last displacement was horrible, coinciding with my contracting Hepatitis A, like thousands of other Gazans who are experiencing epidemic diseases due to the collapse of sanitation infrastructure and the contamination of drinking water. Despite the ravages of the disease on my body and my weakened strength, and given that transport is now a luxury, I was compelled to traverse considerable distances on foot, among thousands of displaced people to evade imminent death. However, I ultimately succumbed to exhaustion on a stone by the roadside, with the distinct impression that I was destined to perish in the street. At that moment, I believe that my survival was solely due to the resilience of my mind, which was forced to accept my displacement but was unwilling to accept the possibility of dying homeless and abandoned on the roadside.

The Gaza Strip is besieged by death, whether by land, air, or sea. There is no safe haven within the territory, including the area designated by Israel as the 'humanitarian safe zone,' and our lives are characterized by a constant state of suffering. It is impossible for me to forget the relatives and friends I lost. I wept inconsolably until my tears dried up, and I despaired of what the world could do to protect the few loved ones I had left. I cannot recall the numerous instances when I experienced dehydration because I was unable to consume water that appeared to be contaminated. I cannot forget the days when my diet was restricted to a single meal of bread and cheese, nor the times when I required access to electricity, the internet, or personal hygiene items but could not find them and felt less than human. I cannot come to terms with the fact that my life has been reduced to carrying a small emergency bag and waiting for evacuation orders we receive by phone, by leaflets falling from the sky, or by a post on social media.

People around me always thought I was an exceptional young woman. I was perceived as a butterfly: light-hearted, good-looking, loving, intelligent, and capable of achieving the best results in any situation. I attempt to recall Leen as she was before the 7th of October, but I fail, as the bombing deprived me of any mementos that might remind me of her, except for images on my mobile phone. However, I believe there’s one thing I haven’t lost yet: resilience. In these inhumane conditions, I have managed to carry on with my work. I have volunteered to document the stories of displaced women and girls, applied for, and was awarded a master’s scholarship abroad, despite the closure of the crossing, which prevented me from attending. The most significant demonstration of resilience is my capacity to bestow love upon those around me despite everything.