March Was Heavy

Here’s Why

March was hard.

Hey, I wanted to share this post because during March, I didn’t write many stories, even though there were many moments worth telling, starting with Ramadan, followed by Eid, Land Day, and the issue of Palestinian detainees.

In this post, I’ll share some of the small, personal moments that shaped this month.

Ramadan has now passed. Many images were shared showing families gathering and sharing meals, as if life in Gaza was somehow normal again. But the truth is, this represents no more than 20% of the people here. I’m glad there are those who try to create moments of joy, but the reality remains unchanged.

One story I want to share is about someone close to us. She used to be financially stable, but now she wears a mask because she cannot afford dental treatment due to vitamin deficiencies. She’s in her early forties. I remember when we invited her for iftar, but she refused, because she felt she had lost her right to smile.

Then came Eid. I didn’t write much about it because I didn’t expect much to happen. But during Eid, I realized something: we, as a people, deeply love life. We are capable of creating moments of joy from within suffering.

I visited relatives, one had lost her husband, another had a missing brother, and a friend had lost everything. Yet they were laughing, making sweets, and smiling. We are truly a people who deserve life.

On March 21, Mother’s Day in Palestine, I planned to write something. I bought my mother 2 kilos of gas as a gift. I was supposed to conduct interviews for a piece, so I went to a camp and asked a woman about Mother’s Day. Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke about her missing son, she didn’t know if he was dead or imprisoned. I found myself hating the question I had asked.

Then I spoke to another man who told me he had lost his entire family—his children—and that he was the only survivor. I returned to my tent and abandoned the idea of writing.

Days passed. On March 30, it was my mother’s birthday. I managed to get her a gift thanks to a friend in the UK, sending him my thanks.

At the end of the month, there was the Knesset announcement regarding Palestinians. Watching the reactions of many families was painful. It’s a feeling I cannot fully understand, I cannot truly feel what a mother of them feels, or what it means to have a missing son.

At the same time, it was also a month of achievements. Some of my writings were featured on Spanish radio, and others were published in a Finnish magazine. My work has now been translated into nine languages.

Now, a new month begins. I stand by the sea, next to my city, the one I cannot return to right now (Rafah). I hope the coming months carry even a little peace.

Just a little.

Dear reader, thank you for taking the time to read my story. It truly means a lot to me. I’ve been through so much, and I deeply appreciate your support. If you’d like to help, you can do so through my friend’s PayPal Here