Hasan Jaber, a freelance journalist in Gaza, has lost 35 members of his extended family since the war began.Supplied
My family has started talking about their plans after the war in Gaza ends as we wait to hear news about a ceasefire.
My wife of 50 years, Mariam, wants to go to the beach after staying inside our house in Bureij for months. She is exhausted with preparing food and bread, and worrying about the shortages of everything.
But the decision of whether there is a war or not is not in our hands, although we pay the price. Israel has killed 35 people in my extended family and 16 members of my wife’s family. All the time we are following the news from Washington and Doha, watching closely with high hopes that the war will end and our suffering will be over.
Our optimism has slowly turned into pessimism, but we refuse to accept it. We continue to wait for a miracle, and we keep following the details of the negotiations. If the war stops it means the killing will stop, too, and a new sense of hope will emerge, despite all the pain and destruction around us.
The past few months have not been easy for us. In fact, things have become increasingly complex and difficult.
The area in which we live in central Gaza has been subjected to several Israeli air strikes and heavy shelling over the past few weeks. Each time, we miraculously escaped, but our home has not. It has been damaged several times, and after each strike, we try to repair it with the simplest and most modest materials we have, just to survive.
People search the rubble of a building hit by Israeli bombardment in the Nuseirat refugee camp on Sunday.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
While writing this article, I had a health problem that required me to go to the hospital, Al Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat refugee camp. I had fluid retention, severe abdominal swelling, difficulty breathing and difficulty moving. I went by ambulance and remained under observation for eight hours. The staff gave me the necessary treatment and now I am recovering.
While I was in the hospital, there was a killing of civilians somewhere in Gaza. The only remaining hospital ambulance arrived laden with bloodied bodies of children, women and men. The room I was in with a large group of injured people turned into an indescribable scene. Next to me lay a young man, clinically dead, his soul hesitant between staying and leaving. From my bed, I watched it all, feeling helpless.
Hunger in Gaza continues. Since May 27, Tel Aviv and Washington have been implementing a plan to distribute limited aid through the so-called Gaza Humanitarian Foundation.
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My family has not attempted to go to the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation’s distribution centres because the route is fraught with danger, and it could lead to death or disappearance. Reaching the nearest distribution point, which is in the Netzarim Corridor, about four kilometres away, requires walking through open and dangerous areas.
I made a decision to prevent my sons, as well as my nephews and relatives, from going to those areas. Their safety is more precious than any food. I cannot put them in this danger for the sake of aid we may never receive. Instead, we try to secure food by bartering or buying at double the prices from those who dared to go the sites. We know that this is not a solution, but it is less risky than going out to areas from which we may not return.
Displaced Palestinians gather to receive relief supplies at a distribution centre along the Netzarim Corridor on June 8.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
Gaza is experiencing widespread chaos and a significant rise in crime rates. Armed, outlaw groups, such as that of Yasser Abu Shabab, have begun to impose control over certain areas and pose a real threat to people’s lives and property. These groups are not content with violence, they also seek to impose their influence as an alternative to the authorities, threatening what remains of the fragile stability in the Strip.
Who will govern Gaza, we wonder. Mariam doesn’t want Hamas to return.
“They failed to run this piece of land, and I am against giving them another chance. We lost our beloved brothers and sisters after the crazy decision on Oct. 7, 2023,” she says, referring to Hamas’s attack on Israel, which began this war. “If they want to govern Gaza, I have the right to ask them to bring me back my family who were killed during the war.”
We hear about a so-called “humanitarian city” in Rafah, which is in the south of Gaza, proposed by Israel’s Defence Minister Israel Katz. It will be nothing more than a mass isolation area, where entry and exit are controlled based on security criteria set by Israel, and under strict military control that eliminates any form of freedom or dignity.
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This place does not offer safety, dignity or a humane life. I will not go there under any circumstances because I refuse to be a number in a forced transfer project or to live in a closed area where Israel controls my fate.
My children are contemplating leaving Gaza for good. My eldest son, Hussam, like thousands of young people in Gaza, no longer dreams of very much. His dreams have become simple, such as travelling and starting a new life outside Gaza.
“Every day I wake up and ask, ‘Have the crossings opened?’ I want to leave, to start over. ... I want to live,” he says.
Hussam plans to leave Gaza as soon as a truce is announced, carrying a small bag containing his papers, some memories and a lot of hope. His destination isn’t as important as it is to be far from the sound of planes, bombing and death.
My younger son, Abdullah, feels similarly.
“I won’t forget Gaza, but I want a chance to feel like a human being, to work, learn and laugh without being afraid of the sound of an explosion,” he says.
For him, a truce isn’t the end of the war, but the beginning of a possible life, postponed for years.