At a time of abundance and ceasefire, Gaza L’HIR and the war will not stop | Gaza

Gaza City – Israel and Iran Fought for 12 days, pulling bombs, drones and missiles against each other, the United States even joining the bombing. Then, earlier this week, he stopped.

Last month, India and Pakistan Attacked and the world feared the triggering of a total war between the two nuclear powers. But then, after four days, he stopped.

In GazaWe were not so lucky. The word “ceasefire“Do not apply to us – even after 20 months of slaughter, death and famine.

Instead, while wars burst and end elsewhere, Gaza is neglected, slipping the news program and disconnected from the Internet for days.

Global leaders who can end wars cannot provide medication in Gaza, cannot provide food aid without daily blood.

This insufficiency left us the Palestinians to isolated Gaza, abandoned and feeling without value. We feel humiliated and degraded, as if our dignity had been erased.

We prayed that the end of the war between Israel and Iran would perhaps help put an end to the one that is carried out on us.

But we were wrong. Even if the Iranian missiles have pleased Tel Aviv, Israel has never stopped bombing us. His tanks rolled up, his evacuation orders have never stopped. And the daily charade of “humanitarian aid” continued to kill the hungry Palestinians while lining up on the distribution sites.

While the bombs of Israel continued to come across us, as they have done since October 2023, we watched the Israelis cry on their own bombed hospitals, damaged from cities and disturbed lives.

“What have we done? Why are we bombed? ” They asked, at the same time that Israel continued to attack the hospitals of Gaza, to kill the children of Gaza and to kill those who try to make food.

Hate food

In Gaza, we have no wishes. I dare not dream of surviving – my heart can no longer bear sorrow of being in this world, the absence of a future.

We are exhausted to be stories that people read, videos they watch. Every minute: bombing, dead and hunger.

Especially hunger. During three months of siege and famine, Israel initially refused to allow food and then authorized distribution only through a shaded and militarized organizationwith Israeli forces pull in.

The situation made me understand food. My relationship with her has changed forever, twisted in resentment and bitterness.

I want everything. I wonder, “What are we going to eat?” What have we available? “

I imagine myself at a table full of delights, throwing everything on the ground protesting, shouting through tears not by hunger, but for my injured dignity.

It is this hunger and the fundamental human instinct to survive that leads tens of thousands of hungry men, women and children for daily slaughter that is food distribution sites.

Hunger dulls all the other senses. An empty stomach means an empty mind, a faulty body. It makes you do things that your brain tells you not to do, to risk everything for a bag of flour or a bag of lenses.

And all this – the famine of 2 million people – takes place in the era of the global abundance of food. The age of pistachio desserts, Dubai chocolates, cheese cakes with layers of cream, gastronomic burgers, pizzas, sauces and creams.

For the rest of the world, food is a telephone tap. For us, that taunts us, reminding us of our calamity.

Muddled

Whenever I open my phone to see photos, recipes and desserts tend, I feel skin in my heart reminding me that we do not live in the same world.

My nine year old daughter Banias watches Instagram coil with me and says: “Mom, each chef says that the ingredients are easy and found in each house … but not ours.”

His words pierce me. She says them with sorrow, not the complaint.

Banias never complains. She accepts the pasta or the lenses I offer. But the pain is there.

My children watch children’s emissions on a device that I bought at a high cost, with a rescue battery to compensate for the two -year electric power failure. I did it so that they can have joy, a little escape. But I did not consider what this screen would show them.

They play songs and videos all day on apples, bananas, strawberries, watermelon, grapes, milk, eggs, pizza, chicken, ice cream.

Not all the things I can give them.

The device started playing a song: “Are you hungry?”

My heart cannot take it. What is this cursed screen doing?

I rushed out of the kitchen, where I had just finished cooking the same pasta with canned sauce – maybe for the 50th time.

I looked in my children’s eyes. Iyas, turning two this month, has never tasted any of these fruits or foods.

Banias looks and says with casualness by eating her pasta, “You see, mom? Even dolls can eat fruits and grapes and delicious things.”

Every moment reminds me that the world lives in a reality, and we live in another. Even children’s songs are no longer made for us.

We have become an exception to life. An exception to joy.

The fear of what comes next

And yet, we are still among the “lucky people” because others have completely failed in food.

I felt this growing terror last week when I opened my last kilo of rice. Fear and despair overwhelmed me. Then, it was the last spoon of milk, then lenses, chickpeas, cornstarch, halva, tomato sauce, the last cans of beans, peas, bulghur.

Our actions disappear. There is no replacement. Each empty shelf looks like the soul. If this famine continues, what is the next step?

It’s like walking step by step towards death. Each day, without solution, brings us closer to a deeper mass famine. Each trip to the market that ends empty -handed looks like a dagger in the heart.

And it’s just food struggle. What if I seem to cook on firewood? Recover the water from the distant desalination stations, most of which have closed? Walk for hours without transportation? The cash flow? Funds and arrow prices?

All this, in the shade of constant Israeli air strikes.

We have disappeared from the headlines, but our sufferings remain – superimposed, aggravating day by day.

What does Gaza do to deserve this erasure, this ruthless genocide? Wars end everywhere, ceasefires are possible anywhere.

But for Gaza, we need a miracle for war to stop.

Gaza will not forgive the world. The blood of our children and their hungry belly will not forget.

We write to record what is going on, to plead not to anyone.

Gaza, the country of dignity and generosity, experiences a daily horror to survive. And everything while the world looks.