The Electronic Intifada 5 January 2024
Residents and civil defense teams conduct a search and rescue operation under the rubble following an Israeli attack on a building in Deir al-Balah, Gaza Strip, 3 January. (Omar Ashtawy / APA Images)
Three months ago my biggest concern was choosing my college major. I sat down at my old desk and wrote in a page on my blue notebook: Future.
I was ready to plan my future.
I had finished high school back in July. My whole family had gathered at our house to wait for my final test results.
The results were in: 99.4. I was overjoyed.
I had scored higher than I thought possible. My mom cried out of happiness.
With such a high mark, I felt like I could choose any major in college, I only had to decide which one suited me best.
And despite receiving scholarships to study abroad, I wanted to stay in Gaza.
I finally made a decision and chose to study software engineering at the University of Palestine. I was confident in my choice.
Then, in October, when I was two weeks into my college studies, Israel launched a war on Gaza.
It has stopped everything in my life and in the entirety of Gaza.
Everything has collapsed.
Our universities have been destroyed. It’s not how I imagined my freshman year at college.
Our first evacuation
On the first day of the war, 7 October, just like every other war we’ve lived through, my mom went to the market and stocked up on groceries. Canned corn, beans and tuna; bread and sweets.
She bought a lot of sweets because eating sugar can shut down the release of the stress hormone cortisol. Perhaps sugar would be a relief amid the constant bombardments.
In the first three days of the war, I experienced the most sorrowful days of my life. Israel killed my loved ones, destroyed my university and forced us to evacuate our homes or be killed by airstrikes.
On 10 October, Israel launched heavy airstrikes on the al-Karama neighborhood in Gaza City. The heart of the bombing was only two streets away.
The Israeli jets were louder than anything I had ever heard. It was the sound of annihilation.
The bombing started at 9 pm and continued until 5 am. My mom decided that we needed to evacuate.
We went to my grandma’s home but we only stayed there for two hours.
The Israeli army again issued evacuation orders for this neighborhood.
No more stars in the sky
We went to my uncle’s home. Then, on 13 October, at 8 am, we had to evacuate farther south.
This was the beginning of an unending chain of suffering. We didn’t know where to go.
We had nowhere to stay, and we couldn’t contact our family members.
We decided to go to a shelter in Rafah, Gaza’s southernmost city.
On the road to Rafah, another uncle called and told us to come to Deir al-Balah in the Middle Area. There, we stayed in a small apartment with 21 other people.
We shared two bedrooms, a living room and two bathrooms. It was like we were living in a congested dovecote.
We still could not escape Israel’s bombs.
Once my uncle told me, while I was standing in front of a window, to keep away from the window in case of any explosions.
“Not all of these glowing spots in the sky are stars,” he said.
Anda Ashraf Shaheen lives in Gaza.
