Once Upon a Time in Gaza…

These are short stories from Gaza, a brief picture of our suffering. The reality is much more painful!

The description under each photo consists of facts published on news agencies and social media. For each photo I also wrote a story. We have seen some of the people in the pictures on TV, others I know their friends or relatives, and the narrative is mine from my knowledge of their circumstances.

My message to the world through this article is that martyrs are not just numbers; they all had lives and loved ones. All of them left stories behind! All were going to make a difference in this world if their lives weren’t taken away.

Behind numbers, many stories are hidden, while others were merely buried!

I was happy… a beautiful bride… preparing for my wedding and a house with my beloved fiancé… my soul mate…

I was engaged for 13 months and was supposed to get married in August 2014.

He promised to make me happy for the rest of my life.

Now, I’m alone. He never lied; he just didn’t have the chance to go through with his promise. He was killed.

I was happy with my wedding ring. I didn’t believe that the woman I have always dreamed of is finally my wife. I even took a picture of the ring and put it as a profile picture on Facebook. I was going to be a daddy. My wife was pregnant when I was killed.

I wish I could see my child. I wish he knew me. I don’t even know whether the baby is a boy or a girl, but now, after I was killed, I think he will be a boy who will be named of his father, “Khaled”.

PS. I was a journalist too. I was killed for doing my job!

I had a brother; we used to fight a lot. Mum always begged us to stop fighting and making noise.

We played a lot and spent much time with each other. I never thought I would lose him this fast. I loved him too much. I didn’t tell him that, I thought we would have a long time to tell him.

I wish I had the chance to tell him before he was killed. I can’t understand why he’s gone; he was just a kid like me. He didn’t do anything bad to others!

We witnessed the war, our parents didn’t allow us to go out and play. We asked: “if we’re just children why would they hurt us?” We were very bored! We didn’t go out for weeks, dad told us to play on the roof. He thought it was a safe place. We had a lot of fun before we were killed there!

We had a mum and a dad, they loved us so much. Mum was waiting for the war to end to take us to the market and buy us new uniforms for school and new clothes for Eid. They promised to teach us whatever we wished, to take care of us until we grew up.

Mum always prayed she’d see us married and play with our kids.

The war is not over, Eid came and there were no presents. Our parents were killed and we’re alone now. Who will take care of us?

I was pretty, my friends at school used to say. I always felt like a princess.

I don’t know what happened; I don’t even understand what they are saying. I heard doctors saying that something called “fragments” hurt me. I don’t even want to understand. I only want my beautiful face back!

I had a beautiful daughter. I spoilt her and loved her like no father in the world could. I have always dreamed of her wedding day. How she would look. Would any man on earth love her the way I do? I asked God to give me health and long age until that moment comes. I never thought that she would die before me. They killed my daughter, they took my soul!

I was scared to death!

Sarah Algherbawi is a Palestinian citizen, was born in Saudi Arabia in 1991, and now lives in the Gaza Strip. She has a BSc in Business Administration from the Islamic University of Gaza, and now works as a project coordinator at a media organisation.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.