GAZA, (PIC)
The sun started to set. On the remnants of their destroyed home that once stood and was full of life, Abu Mahmoud, his wife, and three kids gathered.
That wasn’t strange. In Gaza, families have been accustomed to losing their homes. Clinging to life even if the house was already in rubble, they insist on observing the holy month of Ramadan despite all the odds.
With a torn piece of cloth, Um Mahmoud covered the table in the dining room. Leftovers, dates, olives, and some bread loaves were everything they could afford for the Iftar meal. Besides, a broken teapot contained the hot beverage.
Watching silently, Abu Mahmoud sat on a large cement block that fell from the wall of the room.
He gazed at his kids who try to cope with their new reality, noticing that his wife tried to act strong with her eyes concealing heavy pain, much heavier than the cement blocks around her.
As if to grant his kids a peaceful moment, he divided the loaf of bread into pieces, sharing it with them all.
Sarah, their oldest daughter, leaning towards her mother, and watching the dimly lit moon, whispered to her mom, “will we go back home?”
Um Mahmoud smiled and batted on her daughter’s shoulder not knowing what to say.
But Mahmoud sat in the corner, trying to fix a plastic toy car with his little fingers, unaware of the meaning of losing one’s home.
Non-ending destruction filled up the horizon. But some light penetrated through it. Maybe it’s the reflection of moonlight on the mother’s tears. It could also be the beacon of hope still dwelling among the family with the coming of the holy month of Ramadan.
“Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar,” the calling for the Maghrib prayer echoed, announcing that it was time to break their fast.
“Let’s eat and be grateful we still have each other,” the father said. The mother smiled ultimately.
They had their breakfast. The familial atmosphere won over the surrounding destruction, telling the world that they could survive and stay resilient too.
