The first jewelry Dima made. Photo: Dima Albanna

Everything started when my sister Tala sent me a link to a training on making accessories that she found on Instagram. I applied, and got the opportunity to learn jewelry design.

The first training session was on August 29, 2022. It was the same day as my college orientation day at Al-Azhar University. I am a software engineering major. I decided to wear my new brown shirt that a dear friend gave me. It was a great day because it was full of new experiences. I went to the Moghraqa Campus, where I met all of my childhood friends!

(Al-Azhar University has three campuses and was gorgeous, before it was transformed into rubble. At the time of writing this article, the Israeli Occupation Forces have directly targeted and destroyed most of our education systems, including my beloved university.)

After I finished my very first classes, I met my wonderful friend Leen at the front entrance gate. She has black curly hair, thick black eyebrows, and is taller than me. We had a beautiful conversation. We talked about our interests, how our first day went, and if we thought we could adapt to the conditions of college life. I was so happy we traveled back together, first by bus, and then by a taxi that she generously ordered. Day by day Leen became my colleague and best friend.

Leen and Dima at one of the University gardens. Photo provided by Dima Albanna

Later that day, I travelled for the accessory training to Ayam Almsrah, a palace! I was so excited, extroverted, and talkative during the training. The happiness I felt when I made my first accessory was unexplainable! They were silver earrings with small red crystals.

The accessory training lasted one month. It culminated in a fair to show off the program, and expose our newfound skills by selling our work. This was my first time to earn money! When Leen and other friends came and supported me, it meant the world to me.

After that success, I committed myself to continuing and made accessories at home. With Tala always ‏encouraging me to sell my creations online, eventually I got the courage to share my work with my mentors at school and work. When one of my trainers loved my bracelets and bought one, I began to take my sister’s encouragement seriously.

I learned about branding, and thought deeply about a name for my business. I chose something that reflected my creations, inspirations and aesthetic. My business is called Daisy Flower 99. I organized a graphic designer, Ahmad, to develop my logo, while I worked on my photography to present my pieces and share them on Instagram.

I received many welcomes, support, and orders! With a cup of mint tea in the evenings, and Umm Kulthum’s “Inta Umri” dancing in my ears, I created for my customers. As my business became more demanding, I faced challenges to stay motivated to create more pieces, improve my brand, and balance my business and demanding university studies.

Still I kept pushing myself. Just over a year later, I registered to present my creations on October 9, 2023, at a booth at the Islamic University fair. It was in honor of Palestinian Heritage Day. This was the first fair I had enrolled my small business in.

During the days leading up to my debut, I imagined myself standing in front of my booth wearing my red and black thobe, black ballerina shoes, and a black hijab. I would be getting to know new people, different kinds of arts, and artists—a community that would now include me. After I packaged my accessories, I closed my eyes with excited feelings and visions, and rested.

I opened them with a horrible sense, hearing the bombings and fearing what often comes next, evacuation. The happiness I slept with the night before couldn’t be sustained. That morning was October 7, 2023. My university became a pile of rubble, and my first fair turned into a figment of my imagination.

My immediate fears came true. On October 14, 2023 my family and I evacuated from the north of Gaza to the south. That day I left my dream, thobe, and accessories at home, my heart shattered. I stopped making accessories. For four months, I remained displaced in Deir Al-Balah. I had a window and tried to entertain myself. I watched people through the window as if a movie, trying to read their reactions. I developed depression.

One day I decided to explore the city with my brother, Mohammed. We walked and drank natural orange juice. As we walked, by chance I saw ‏pliers for sale. I couldn’t escape the vision I had developed a year earlier to create beauty. I bought three kinds of pliers. I whispered to my depressed self, “Maybe I can find other materials, get back to my business, and gain strength.”

A couple of weeks later I was able to return to my passion. Restarting from nil, I went to the market to find wire and beads. I went back to my vision, my small business, by making another kind of accessory, bracelets, using Brazilian woven patterns. By doing so, I challenged the foretold destruction of our lives.

My first creation took me two hours, a rose-shaped bracelet. When finished, on April 30, 2024—seven months after the aggression had interrupted my business—I shared a post of my new work. I didn’t receive the same support and likes as previously. I felt a tiny sadness return. But I remembered my whisper and continued to make bracelets, posting them one after the other.

Screenshot of an Instagram post featuring Dima’s bracelets.

Finally, three months later, in July, I received orders. All of my orders were from the south, from Rafah, but I was in the middle of Gaza, in Deir Al-Balah. Driving orders to the south was not only difficult to arrange, it was dangerous. 

A friend from Rafah offered to help me send my orders south. But by August, the people sheltering in Rafah evacuated to the middle area, and my business stopped again. Many people who had ordered canceled, because creating the slightest beauty in the ongoing chaos of surviving occupation and genocide is a fleeting assertion. I stopped creating for a while again.

In September—a month before the year anniversary of the aggression—I pulled together the will to start again. I made more woven bracelets. These, the most feasible accessories to make, became the most sellable. In Deir Al-Balah many people ordered from my store. I was able to enjoy my creativity making them. I made many types, in different colors. I was able to appreciate myself, my family, my friends, and everyone who supported me in chasing my dream, despite all of our imposed hardship.

Woven bracelets. Photo: Dima Albanna

In March 2025, we returned to the north of Gaza. After a year and a half, I found my home, and my materials, and tools. I hugged them; they were my babies.

Even with my lack of materials, I challenged the deprivation Israel has imposed. I made accessories, sold them, and contributed cash to my family.

I want to impart to you, my dear reader, what I have learned about living from being born a refugee in my own country, living under a siege, and the incremental genocide of the occupation. Don’t give up on your skills, on your passions, on what makes you and others enjoy living. Don’t let whatever you face make you take a break from creating your world. Living is an opportunity. Don’t let any circumstance take your control from you. You can make a difference for yourself, and for others. If I can keep my small business going in these circumstances, then you, with all your freedoms, I have no doubt can pursue your dreams, too.