Daybreak in Gaza: Stories of Palestinian Lives and Culture

Daybreak in Gaza: Stories of Palestinian Lives and Culture is a powerful collection of essays, testimonies and reflections edited by Mahmoud Muna and Matthew Teller. It brings together over 300 contributors writing from Gaza and beyond amid the ongoing genocide. The result is a powerful, often raw, and consistently moving testimony of a society facing annihilation—yet still holding on to its history and humanity.

The book was compiled in just three months after the launch of Israel’s devastating assault on the besieged enclave in 2023. Amid bombardment, displacement and communication blackouts, contributors shared their testimony and offered their reflections.

Some sent voice notes in the dead of night; others relayed fragments of their testimony through broken connections. Together, the pieces offer a moving and powerful glimpse into Gaza’s inner life—the homes people were building, the memories they hold, the art they continue to create, and the futures they refuse to let go of.

There are stories in the volume that are piercing. In the opening chapter, Journalist Ahmed Mortaja writes painfully about her fears as Israel launched its war of annihilation on the people of Gaza.

“I’m worried that my name might become breaking news” writes Mortaja. “Like when they say: ‘So-and-so number of bodies have been recovered during a violent bombardment of different areas. Then I’ll become a plain number, added to the counter which has not stopped counting to this moment. I wouldn’t like it for my name and my family’s name to become numbers, odd or even.”

Heba Almaqadma’s testimony captures the horror of realising Israel seeks nothing less than extermination: “If only I had known to plan for a genocide, I would have cherished those last moments at home, my last night in a bed, my last morning coffee, my last kibbe dipped in hummus, my last day at work, my last laugh, my last birthday celebration, my last everything”, writes Almaqadma reflecting on the last time she left her home. “If only I had known, I would have packed up a few of those memories with me.”

Others bear witness not only to the destruction of lives and homes, but to the deliberate obliteration of knowledge and memory—the epistemicide unfolding around them. Asmaa Mustafa, who lost her personal library, writes with bitter irony about burning her books to keep her family warm: “Books used to ignite our thoughts. Now books feed our children.” Her words capture the desperation of a society forced to sacrifice its intellectual heritage for survival, after Israel cut off food, fuel and hope.

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