Gaza, Palestine
Basman Elderawi, 32,
poet, writer, physiotherapist
During the eleven days of war between Gaza and Israel, Basman and I have been in constant touch.
The follwing is an account of the last days before the cease fire.
After their house was hit Basman and his family fled to his sister’s house that is located in the middle of the Gaza Strip.
They survived.
View from the window: “They bombed an apartment in my building and threatened to destroy it all. They didn’t yet, but as my building is located in a very dangerous area where most civilian towers were destroyed we fled to my sister’s house in the middle of the Gaza Strip. Gaza is beautiful, much prettier without bombing.”
What do you see when you look out of your window?
I see the trees in my sister's garden. The houses of the neighbors. Usually what I hear at her house is the sound of birds and the cart sellers selling their goods. Now, all we hear is the buzzing of drones and the roar of war planes.
What did you have for breakfast?
Today, I had fava beans (foul) with olives, and tomatoes. And green tea without sugar. We usually go shopping on a weekly or even on a monthly basis, so we still have some food.
What has become your most important object?
In the face of what has happened I don't know what's the most important. Yet, I lean on my writings more than before, and on the talks with my family and friends.
What song comforts you?
“Wild hearts can’t be broken” by Pink
What do you miss the most?
Walking in the street in the evening.
This is a video of the moment when they targeted the apartment inside the building I live in. At the moment of the attack I was inside of it. The bombing came without warning. We quickly fled to the street first as you see then to my sister's house. Three were killed and around ten were injured that day.
The Count Down
16. May, 10:54
We are still alive. Certainly not okay. They bombed madly, we thought we won't make last night. Now luckily we are safe. Yet – there is some damage within the house.
18.May, 22:10
There is no bombing now in the area where I stay. There's bombing in the southern area of the Gaza Strip. But the situation is bad and the atmosphere very tense.
We try to catch some moments of sleep. Two to three hours.
Remember when I told you that I have a positive attitude towards years with odd numbers? I laugh at myself now. But don’t worry, I still hold on to what I believe and maybe it's time to remain hopeful and strong.
I know I am. But there are scars inside of us as well. I fear they won’t be healed.
The day before yesterday was so horrible.
We looked to each other as if it was the last time.
I thought we won't survive.
أنظر إلى أمي
تنظر إلي بصمت
نبتسم، كلنا يعرف أنها قد تكون
المرة الأخيرة
أنظر إلى أخوتي
ألمس كل قصائدي
اقرأها مرة أخرى، أودعها
أحاول رسم صوري القديمة
على الجدران
تتحول الجدران في ثوان إلى حطام
أرسم كل صوري القديمة في رأسي
الصور اللاتي تركتها في بيتي
المهدد بالقصف
أنسى أن رأسي أيضا مهددة بالقصف
ثم يحدث صوت إنفجار قريب، أتذكر
أتمنى أن نعيش انا وعائلتي معا
أنا وأصدقائي
أنا وقصائدي، المبتور والمجروح
والمنكسر منها
أو نموت معا
I look at my mom
She looks at me silently
We smile, we all know it might be the last time
I look at my brothers
I touch all my poems
Read it again, say goodbye
I am trying to paint my old pictures on the walls
In seconds, walls turn into rubble
I paint all of my old pictures in my head
The pictures I left in my house, which is under threat from bombing
I forget that my head is also in danger of being bombed
Then there is an explosion nearby, I remember
I hope my family and I can live together
I and my friends
I and my poems, amputated, wounded and broken by them
Or we die together
20. May, 18:02
Yesterday was the anniversary of my first piece for “Window Talks”. It reminds me of saying this: “At least the virus isn’t as scary as drones and bombs, it’s simply less noisy.” How ironic that sounds now, at this time.
I will try to write something about that.
For one moment,
All I want is to close
My eyes
Hearing only a dead silence
Before a love song plays
On my head
But all I hear is explosions
That compromise my hearing
System and ruins any love
Happening in my head.For one moment,
All I want is to stand
Relaxed under the shower
Feeling every water drop
touching against my skin
But all I practice now is to
hurry up washing
Before another missile hits
As I am too shy to die naked.For one moment,
All I want is to sleep
Deeply with no
Dream or nightmare
But all I can see is faces
Of death ghosts laughing,
Sticking their tongues out
At me on the ceiling of
the bed room.For one moment,
All I want is to distract
I open my memories on FB
Yet it reminds me of my words
To my friend, Helene:
"At least the virus isn't as scary
As drones and bombs, it's simply less noisy”
How ironic is that now,
But all I do is laughing
at myself
As I remember my optimism of
Years with odd numbers
Yet I also remember only hope
can be
My savior now.
Most of the time the bombing is harder at night, but it goes on all day long. We sit in one room, on the floor away from the windows. We constantly watch the news. We depend on chargeable batteries for the internet and on small solar panels for the lights. The electricity is off most of the time (around 4 hours on and 20 hours off).
“I look like a cave man. But there's no time or mode to think of shaving.”
I rarely go out to get some stuff from the shop near the house. And if I go out then only during the day.
Then you can move around carefully. It's impossible at night, you could get bombed too easily.
When the building where I live in was attacked many journalists were around, I guess some of them live there. That’s why the video was made. When the bombs hit, I wasn't thinking for a moment. I only felt angry. I imagined for a moment that my house was being destroyed and with it all my memories.
After that I wrote this:
Being Palestinian is a
hard mission
And we won't stop doing
this mission
With more and more love
In Gaza, our families are
our world
Our houses are our world
Morning today, as they
bombed one apartment in my
building and we didn't know
and still don't know if they will
bomb the whole 62 floors
building. After the survival
mode and the highly rush of
adrenaline was done inside my
veins. You realized the ugly
truth that your oppressor can
end your world in a minute in
front of your eyes. But sorry,
we won't give up doing the
right thing to do. We won't give
up.
What is the right thing to do? To keep standing for justice and rights. Not only for your justice and rights but for that of others as well. I always ask myself: “Why am I here? What do I exist for?” But through my struggle and seeing the struggle of others', I believe that my struggle defines my theory of existence. There are two sides of this world: Justice vs injustice, freedom vs racism/occupation or extremism, and I have decided which side I should belong to and fight.
I mean why do I exist?
I am very critical of myself, I question myself to the point that it is like a pain in the ass. I always ask “why?”, always question everything, even my beliefs and God. I am not convinced to be here to just get rich or even happy. If our existence has a meaning, it is to be fighting for justice and being involved in serving the other. That is the only acceptable convincing theory to me until now.
Ah, yes - and there was the virus. No one talks about Corona now. But health providers are scared of a quickly increasing infection rate because schools are crowded with people who had to flee from their homes.
21. May, 22:01
By the way, the cease fire took a place at 2 a.m. today and I returned to my home. Thankfully I found no damage inside our apartment. There's damage i the apartment that got bombed but the whole building is safe to stay in now.
I am relieved that death has stopped and that I haven’t become homeless. But Gaza is not okay and that makes my heart ache. I went to buy bread and seeing the destruction of the street makes me depressed.
Is it normal to feel guilty because you and your home survived while others did not?
I don't know.
Destruction in Gaza.
