The Keys to my House: A Gaza Diary

Sami al-Ajrami’s account of the first six months of Israel’s genocide in Gaza starts with a tenacious link to home and homeland. A week after Hamas infiltrated Israel, al-Ajrami decides to leave his home in Gaza, taking his two nineteen-year-old daughters with him. “This isn’t a rented apartment in some random condominium,” al-Ajrami writes in the first page of The Keys to my House: A Gaza Diary. “The house was built literally stone by stone by my family.”

Originally from Beer Sheva, al-Ajrami’s grandfather arrived in Gaza in 1953. For al-Ajrami, Gaza is his permanent home, yet immediately the reader is told of how fragile the concept of home is in Gaza. Forced displacement remains a reality because of Israeli colonialism, and all Palestinians are prepared to be forcibly displaced once again. The author draws parallels with his grandfather’s displacement. “History is repeating itself, I think … I too am going away, keys in my hand, already imagining I’ll be able to return.”

Israel’s genocide, however, ensured the contrary. Al-Ajrami’s account illustrates how quickly normalcy is shattered in Gaza, how the relative tranquil, although not absolute as Israel would still target Gaza periodically, gives an illusion that a life can be built, only for dreams and implemented plans to be shattered at any given moment. Being a journalist, al-Ajrami relates how he got to know of Hamas’s attack inside Israel, how Israel waited too long to intervene and stop Hamas’s incursion. The book takes an approach that is not at all sympathetic to Hamas and in several instances raises criticism which the author notes is common to many people in Gaza. However, and the book’s challenge to mainstream narrative lies here – the genocide is a reality whether one supports Hamas or the Palestinian Authority.

Al-Ajrami’s observations throughout the book allow greater insight into Israel’s logic of destruction. Israel’s first target in the genocide was Gaza’s skyscrapers. Al-Ajrami notes, “Israel always starts up its wars where the last one left off, and the last war stopped short of bombing skyscrapers.” By the next morning, on October 8, the author notes that Israel had already destroyed most of Gaza.

The author describes forced displacement, with all its agony, in intricate detail. The social hierarchy in Gaza becomes evident – not everyone has the same means to secure refuge somewhere else in Gaza or to travel abroad. UNRWA premises become a sought-after place of refuge for Palestinians seeking safety. As Palestinians flee their homes, the link between the Israeli colonial enterprise and the settler population becomes evident. Al-Ajrami writes, “Some Israelis are sending messages to the residents of Gaza from unlisted numbers. They impersonate the military and order evacuations, saying that the homes of these people are about to be bombed.” This collective participation in genocide facilitates the Palestinian people’s forced displacement from their homes in Gaza.

Al-Ajrami’s account of Gaza’s predicament before and during the genocide also provides much context into the deprivation intended by Israeli leaders as part of the colonial process now accelerated. The lack of food, exacerbated with the genocide, the theft of water, and the targeting of hospitals all signal the intent to destroy Gaza and Palestinians. Meanwhile, in slivers of resilience and living, for those not butchered by bombs, navigating the remaining spaces with dignity is an ordeal. There is no time for proper burials of the dead, or for mourning. Al-Ajrami writes, “We are forced to dig between other tombs and bury our loved ones there, each on top of the other.”

Despite many people having fled their homes, al-Ajrami notes that there are thousands of Palestinians who decided not to leave. The dilemma of leaving is summed up in the risk of dying in their homes or facing a life of perpetual displacement. For those who left, such as al-Ajrami, perilous journeys back to the north of Gaza were at times undertaken, in search of gas, for example.

What stands out throughout the book is the intensity of chaos created by Israel’s genocide, mostly exacerbated by humanitarian deprivation. The lack of everything, including adequate shade, takes an immense psychological toll. Hunger is prevalent, of course fights break out among the people. However, contrary to mainstream and Israeli narratives, al-Ajrami provides context for the fights – the desperation caused by hunger and Israel’s imposed starvation policies.

Hospitals, meanwhile, are barely functioning and doctors are forced to make harrowing decisions on whose lives to save – survival of the fittest among the injured becomes a priority. Amid Israel’s increasing kill toll in Gaza, al-Ajrami writes of international diplomacy and endeavours. Some, like the South African initiative at the International Court of Justice, bring a glimmer of possibility, but bureaucracy and Israel’s dominant security narrative are the realities influencing the continuation of genocide in Gaza.

Time is long, incessant, and yet swift. The impact of ongoing atrocities, with barely time to register one before the next strikes, allows the mind to conjure a semblance of images, to truly try to envision what Palestinians in Gaza have endured. However, the reader also realises that without an actual lived experience, all imagination falls short. It is also a deep realisation that Palestinians in Gaza have lived horrors which affect the reader in a different manner. A reader outside of Gaza can wonder how and feel overwhelmed by the immensity of detail inscribed in such narratives. Palestinians in Gaza have no time for overwhelm, no time for anything except for survival or death in genocide. The psychological toll is visible everywhere and no safety to deal with the ongoing trauma. In six months of narrating the daily life during genocide, it is almost unthinkable that more could happen.

Al-Ajrami manages to get his daughters to safety, and he opts to leave Gaza as well. The complexities of leaving Gaza – safety juxtaposed against what was left behind – are pondered upon in the epilogue, mirroring the destruction of the Nakba in 1948. The key remains, but al-Ajrami’s house is destroyed. In conclusion, displaced from Gaza, al-Ajrami writes, “Today, those keys that no longer open anything have been put away. I put them in a box, in the back of a closet. For now I want to put my life aside. Looking for the place to begin again.”