In Gaza, what we have lost is bigger than our hearts

As I write this, it is the 30th day of this so-called ceasefire. Since the agreement took effect on 9 October, Israel has violated it multiple times, only to return to it whenever it suits. It appears to exist only on paper.

- SARA AWAD

On the ground in Gaza, we live in a different reality where fear still controls us and nothing has truly changed. For as long as the borders remain closed, the amount of food allowed in is restricted, and anything that might bring relief to Gaza is prohibited by Israel, then no, we cannot feel a real peace.

I find myself longing for the brief moments when the ceasefire came and I heard people screaming, “It’s over, the war is over.” I didn’t believe it. We’ve learned not to trust hope too quickly. Yet, for the first time in two years, it looked like we could finally breathe, sleep, and dream freely.

After the announcement, we sat in silence, unsure what to feel or how to react. What we lost was bigger than our hearts. We had nearly forgotten what a normal day looked like. Two years were enough to make us believe that perhaps we no longer deserved happiness.

Later, I walked Gaza’s streets and took the prettiest pictures I have ever taken. No bombs falling from the sky, no new martyrs, no injured arriving at our overcrowded hospitals. We kept saying that it felt like the first day of Eid.