The Electronic Intifada 6 June 2024
Refaat Alareer’s message has reached audiences far and wide.
ZUMA PressIt is so difficult to write about you, Shymaa, knowing you are no longer here.
The image of your smiling face comes to mind constantly.
I always think of your sweet words.
The attack on your home was horrific.
But I know that you are in heaven now after Israel took your life. And the lives of your son and your husband.
I will never forget our nights out, the many plans we made together, the conversations we had that lasted for hours, the laughter. We had a good time together.
I remember the first day I met Shymaa. We were both attending school in Tel al-Hawa, a neighborhood of Gaza City.
Everyone was always curious about new girls starting at the school.
My classmate Huda told me about one such girl, noting that she was very beautiful.
I decided that I wanted to see this girl, who everyone was talking about. “I will be friends with her,” I said to myself.
Her name was Shymaa.
Becoming her friend was easy. She was the kind of person with whom you immediately felt a connection as soon as you met her.
Shymaa was extremely generous.
She would become upset if others were upset, even if she didn’t know them directly. She would try to make things easier for them.
I remember her telling me about a girl whose family were in financial difficulties.
The girl did not have money for notebooks and pens and – unlike the rest of us – could not buy things during our breaks. And she could not afford to take part in school trips.
When Shymaa told me this, we decided to arrange a collection for the girl, without her knowledge.
We helped a number of other students in this way, managing to put smiles on their faces. We built a strong relationship with these students and they became our friends.
Shymaa and I undertook many activities together.
We volunteered to plant trees in the school garden.
We made radio programs.
We commemorated the Nakba – the ethnic cleansing of Palestine between 1947 and 1949 – and Land Day, when we remember the people killed by Israel in a March 1976 massacre.
Sparkle in her eyes
Shymaa had lived in the Shujaiya neighborhood of Gaza City.
Her family’s home was destroyed by Israel during its 2014 war against Gaza. The family were forced to leave their beloved Shujaiya as a result.
They moved to Tel al-Hawa. That is why Shymaa joined our school.
I didn’t like to ask Shymaa the details of what happened when their home was attacked.
The loss of her home was extremely painful. Yet it did not reduce Shymaa’s commitment to Palestine.
I will never forget the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about liberation. She was ready to pay any price for freedom.
Shymaa would become angry with anyone who did not support Palestinian prisoners and the resistance. She was particularly fervent when expressing her views about Jerusalem and its centrality to the cause of Palestine.
She was strong but also sensitive. She was greatly saddened by images of destruction and children being killed or wounded.
Our friendship grew stronger and stronger as time went on. I could tell what Shymaa was feeling just by looking at her eyes.
I introduced Shymaa to my family and got to know hers. My family loved her very much.
If my father asked me about something I was about to do, I would say that Shymaa was accompanying me. That always reassured him.
Shymaa’s favorite color was blue. When I asked her why, she told me it was the color of the sky.
“In the sky, there are no limits,” she said.
Blue is a calm and elegant color. I feel comfortable when I see the color blue, just as I felt when I was with Shymaa.
She took cooking seriously. When we were preparing a dish, we would take pictures of each step in the process.
I remember the time she made musakhan – roasted chicken, accompanied with onions, pine nuts and lemon juice.
Shymaa consulted me about every ingredient, asking what we should add to give the best taste.
Finally, we distributed the meal to girls from poor families. They were very happy to receive it and that made Shymaa happy.
Shymaa was tense as we prepared for the tawjihi – the high school leaving exam. We supported each other during that period but we had less contact than previously.
Despite how we were kept busy studying, we arranged to meet or talk on weekends. We would set aside days to go places where we could relax.
I was delighted when Shymaa secured high grades in the tawjihi. A big party was arranged.
Although we went to different universities, our relationship stayed strong. Shymaa would often visit me at college.
Artwork by Shymaa Alareer
She had a great passion for calligraphy.
One day she gave me a picture with a delightful message in her own handwriting. The message was that we were sisters, even if we had been born to different mothers.
It was a gift that I treasured and which was subsequently destroyed – when Israel bombed our home.
Shymaa’s artwork was much in demand. People wanted samples of her calligraphy so that they could give them as presents.
She would display her work on Instagram.
When the day came that Shymaa told me that she was engaged, I was happy for her.
Muhammad, who would become her husband, made a good choice when he proposed to her. I told her that she would be a beautiful bride.
When Shymaa was pregnant, I was excited.
She slowed down a little and stayed at home most of the time, taking care of her health.
She was pregnant when Israel declared its current war on Gaza. I was very worried about her, especially as she remained in the northern part of Gaza, which Israel had declared a combat zone.
I used to check on her from time to time despite how hard it was to get an internet connection or phone signals. It could take a while for her to reply but I still checked on her when I could.
Spreading the truth
On 6 December, a terrible thing happened. Israel assassinated Shymaa’s father, the distinguished teacher, poet and activist Refaat Alareer.
Refaat was targeted because he spoke out about the issue of Palestine. He demanded an end to the oppression of our people. He demanded freedom and equality between the River Jordan and the Mediterranean Sea.
His articles had great resonance because they raised awareness about the reality of our suffering. He spread the truth.
When I heard the news of Refaat’s martyrdom, I cried a lot. It felt like I had lost a relative.
Shymaa and her father had a great love for each other.
I offered Shymaa my condolences. When I spoke to her, she was resilient.
She was certain that Refaat had gone to God and that he was proud his message had reached the world.
Shymaa was at an advanced stage of pregnancy when her father was martyred. She had wished that he would be one of the first people to see her baby.
It was not to be.
The final stages of her pregnancy took place amid a brutal war and rising hunger, particularly in northern Gaza. The health situation deteriorated considerably; medicines became increasingly scarce and infectious diseases spread.
Against the odds, Shymaa gave birth to a healthy baby. He was named Abd al-Rahman.
Refaat had wanted that name for his grandson.
In April – just a few months after Abd al-Rahman’s birth – I was on the internet when I saw some shocking news. Shymaa was named in the news stories.
My heart sank. I had to read the news more than once before I understood what had happened.
Shymaa, her husband Muhammad and Abd al-Rahman had all been martyred when Israel bombed their home in al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood.
I could not believe it.
I opened WhatsApp and checked messages we had sent each other by different means. I kept reading the last words we had exchanged.
I thought about sending her another message but I knew that I would not get a reply.
Shymaa was gone.
Gone.
A large part of my life had been spent in her company. We had shared so many experiences, both sweet and bitter.
Shymaa is gone.
Our joys are gone with her.
But I remain a loyal friend. I will keep on spreading Shymaa’s message.
Shymaa was beautiful like a rose.
She is gone. And so many other roses have gone.
They have gone to God.
But our cause will not go away.
We ask God to have mercy on Shymaa, her father, her son and her husband.
We ask God to have mercy on all our martyrs.
We ask God to grant us victory.
Israa Elholy lives in Gaza.
