Creating Joy Despite Displacement

I spend my time organizing recreational and educational activities for children and all of the other residents in the tents. We have been living in tents for several months, and there is no source of entertainment for our children. These days are the worst of our lives, especially for our children. We suffer greatly living in these conditions. I work hard to organize activities that alleviate the suffering of our children and bring some joy and happiness to their hearts. My name is Akram Abdul Nabi Al-Ajrami. I am 61 years old. This is my daily life as a displaced person living in a tent in the city of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip.

As an elderly man, the occupation forces did not spare me for my old age, nor did they spare our children, women, elders, or youth. The bombing we are subjected to in the Gaza Strip is unprecedented. If a major country were subjected to this bombing, it would have ended in the first week. However, our love for our homeland Palestine, our insistence on our land, and our refusal to emigrate from it have pushed us to stand firm. If the resistance defends us with some simple weapons, we must also resist the occupation by standing firm on our land and refusing to emigrate, no matter what happens. We live in catastrophic conditions, but we are the owners of this land, and we are its people, and we will never leave it.

During the first days of the war on the Gaza Strip, I fled from the Jabalia camp in the north, where my house is located and where I lived with my sons and grandchildren, to Nuseirat camp in the middle of the Gaza Strip, where I stayed for a month. After the bombing intensified on the camp, we left to find a safer place.

The occupation asked us to evacuate to areas south of the Gaza Valley, and we thought that Nuseirat camp was safer than Jabalia camp because it is in the south of the Gaza Strip. But, bombing and destruction reached all areas of the camp, which forced us to leave Nuseirat and search for a safer place.

Our displacement journey after Nuseirat camp was even harsher and more bitter. We fled to the city of Rafah in the south of the Gaza Strip and stayed there in tents for displaced peoples for nearly two months. The crowding was severe and food aid was scarce. We spent many days without food; our children slept without eating, their crying pained me and made me feel helpless all the time.

After Rafah, we returned again to Nuseirat camp for three weeks. Then, the occupation raided the camps in the middle of the Strip, and we evacuated to tents in the city of Deir al-Balah. We have been living in these tents for a month and a half.

My family and I suffered greatly on the way from Jabalia to Deir al-Balah; we lost a lot of money and walked tens of kilometres on foot. I do not want to repeat this experience again. We have experienced enough suffering, fatigue, and torment. I want to return from this tent to my house in the Jabalia camp. The occupation threatens to raid the city of Deir al-Balah, as it raided Rafah a week ago. We do not want to evacuate again; we want to return to our homes and live on the ruins of our destroyed houses. We do not want to live in these tents that remind us of the worst days of our lives.

We haven’t felt settled anywhere we’ve been displaced to. We’ve been exhausted from moving between cities and camps in the central and southern Gaza Strip. Our children have also suffered; they’ve shared every aspect of the hardship and displacement we’ve experienced moment by moment. They too lived in tents and endured cold, rain, heat, diseases, and insect bites. Shrapnel from bombings hit several houses adjacent to our tents. There is no safe place in Gaza.

After the exhausting journey of displacement we’ve endured for several months, I decided to organize some uplifting activities for the displaced. I have a beautiful voice, but being an elderly man, I’m not capable of organizing activities that require movement and play. So, I organized activities for residents to recite salawat, praises of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), in my tent and neighbouring tents. Our displaced neighbours invited me to organize activities in their tents, and they were delighted with the praise of the Prophet as it’s one of the religious customs beloved by the people of Gaza. We usually organize such activities on various religious occasions. However, the prolonged duration of the war has deprived us of them.

The war started a month after the beginning of the academic year in the Gaza Strip, and it’s been ongoing for over seven months now. We’re on the verge of the end of the school year, but Gaza’s students have lost this year. The occupation deprived them of education, just as it deprived them of their right to live in security and peace like the rest of the world.

After settling into the city of Deir al-Balah for over a month and a half, one of the displaced teachers from a neighbouring tent approached us and asked for a tent to be designated for teaching children, to compensate them slightly for the complete loss of their academic year. We were very happy with this initiative from the displaced teacher, and I immediately allocated my tent during certain hours of the day to teach the displaced children. Every day, children gather in my tent to receive the education that was denied to them by the occupation. This is useful time amid the intense bombing of all governorates in the Strip.

The education tent is important for us; it’s beneficial for our children and provides them with some knowledge that the occupation has deprived them of. This educational activity is crucial for us and for the future of our children. We will work to make it successful and look for other activities to support our children and alleviate the difficult circumstances they’re experiencing because of this war.

I used to own a beautiful house in the Jabalia camp in the northern Gaza Strip. My house consisted of several floors, where I lived with my sons and grandchildren. We left it in search of safety after the occupation invaded the north and dozens of neighbouring houses were bombed. My beautiful house was destroyed.

I learned from my neighbours in the Jabalia camp that my house was destroyed, and the occupation demolished all the houses around it. I was deeply saddened by the loss of my house, as it took great effort over many years to build it. It holds beautiful memories for us; it’s where my sons established their families, where my grandchildren were first embraced, and where I experienced my youth and old age. I dream that the war will end soon, that the suffering we’re enduring will end urgently, and that these difficult days will end, so we can return to our homes, safely, very soon.

I’ve lost many relatives, neighbours, and friends who became martyrs in this war and we’ve lost our homes to the occupation’s destruction. The occupation forced us to live for several months in conditions we’re not accustomed to. We owned beautiful houses, and we have never been accustomed to living in tents. We all realize that with patience and steadfastness on our land, these difficult days will pass, and we will return to our homes soon, victorious. The occupation has been killing us since the beginning of the occupation of Palestine, and all international organizations are watching what we’re going through.

This pain must end immediately.

This war has caused pain to all the residents of the Gaza Strip. Every house contains a martyr, a wounded person, or a prisoner. Every family has been targeted by the bombing of their house or neighbour’s homes. Every house in the Gaza Strip has been affected by the bombing; they have targeted every place in the Strip. All the people of Gaza suffer from hunger and lack of food and water. All the people of Gaza suffer from the shortage of medicine and the collapse of the health system. We hope that the war will end soon, and that all these difficult conditions we’re experiencing will end. I hope to return to the Jabalia camp as soon as possible. I miss my home and the neighbourhood I live in. I miss meeting my neighbours and relatives. I miss my life before the war.