we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
Gazans continue to support one another, sharing what little they have despite their own grief and financial hardships.
“One shekel, one more” campaign. Photo: Farah Samer Zaina
Before the war, especially at the time of Eid al-Fitr, Gaza was a wonderful place.
We held many honored traditions for welcoming in Eid during the last days of Ramadan. People cleaned their entire homes and baked traditional treats such as ma’amoul or ka’ak bi ajwa, delicious date-filled cookies. We decorated our houses and even went shopping for new clothes. For children, this was always their favorite part: They loved showing off their new outfits during happy family visits.
People came together to decorate the streets with bright, glowing lights. As you walked through the streets, you would be struck by their beauty. You would hear the soothing sounds of takbirs (the Islamic call to prayer) and Eid songs filling the air as they were played in houses, cars, and markets. You might even find yourself joining in the singing or chanting the takbirs.
Restaurants competed to create the most festive atmosphere, displaying beautiful decorations and offering special discounts.
Eid morning would start with the Fajr prayer, followed by the Eid prayer at the mosques. Here, gifts and chocolates were distributed to the children, making the start of Eid even more special for them.
Families and friends would visit one another, enjoying grand feasts as the prize for fasting for the whole month of Ramadan. The air would be filled with laughter, love, and a deep shared joy.
If you ever joined the people of Gaza during Eid, you would be welcomed into their homes with hot cups of coffee, dates, and various kinds of chocolates. Everyone enjoyed ma’amoul, and mothers would compete to make the most delicious. You might even leave with some money as a gift.
People raced to decorate mosques and make them sparkle for Eid. Worshippers filled the Al-Khaldi Mosque and the Great Omari Mosque. Children competed to chant Eid takbirs in the microphone, and everyone was happy to hear their voices.
I used to pray in the Al-Hitin Mosque. Here, together with my sisters, friends, and neighbors, I would wish each of them a happy Eid.
Our happiness continued until October 7, 2023. Israel’s war on Gaza has devastated the whole Strip, turning it into a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
We deeply miss the blessed three days of Eid.
The core of Eid is upholding kinship ties with visits, gatherings, and holding feasts in our homes. But the un-welcome guest in Eid this year was the Israeli army. How can people visit one another when their homes are reduced to rubble?
Many of our people were forced into displacement and now live in degraded conditions in the streets, in makeshift tents surrounded by debris, ruins, and swarms of biting flies.
People used to begin Eid by bathing, dressing in new clothes, and wearing the most elegant perfumes they possessed. Now, they walk for miles just to find a few gallons of water for drinking and cooking. Bathing has become a luxury. People wait a week or more for their turn to shower.
This unbearable life comes with other burdens and traumas too.
For 17 months, the people of Gaza have witnessed bombings, killing, torture, arrests, ethnic cleansing, genocide, and starvation. Without life’s most basic necessities, people have untold physical and mental injuries.
I know this suffering firsthand.
We had hoped that Hamas and Israel would have reached an agreement for the second phase of the ceasefire before Eid. We hoped we would be able to celebrate without all these terrors.
Instead, this year, fathers, mothers, children, and friends, were killed before ever praying the Eid prayers, before eating ma’amoul or playing with their friends, before receiving the traditional money gift.
During Eid of 2024, the Israeli army joined us with their deadly fireworks, bombing our neighborhood, making seven martyrs out of our friends and neighbors, and injuring my younger sister. Maryam was just 18 when shrapnel tore through her legs. After three operations she can walk again, and we are grateful. Many are not as fortunate.
The people who once laughed, now weep as they bury their loved ones. Instead of visiting the living, they must visit their graves.
Gaza’s Ministry of Health reports that at least 50,021 Palestinians have been killed and 113,274 wounded since Israel began attacking the besieged territory following an attack led by the Palestinian group Hamas on October 7, 2023.
The people of Gaza have a strong faith and they need their mosques. They long to pray, to heal the wounds of their aching hearts, and to have a place where they can feel protected and at peace.
Israel knows this. During the war, most if not all of our mosques have been bombed. Worshippers who gathered in tents or houses, or anyone who called for prayer, were killed.
Now the people of Gaza try their best to hold onto their Islamic rituals by building huge tents in open spaces, beside the rubble of mosques, or by gathering to pray in partially damaged houses.
Instead of the cherished smiles of earlier Eid’s, people sob while praying for an end to this hell. After prayers, we return home to tables that were once filled with food and surrounded by loved ones. Now we are missing family members and our tables have nothing on them.
After 17 months of war and the continued blocking of humanitarian aid and food from getting into the Strip, people can barely find anything to eat.
Yet Gazans continue to support one another. “From one poor to another” is a motto often spoken as people share what little they have despite their own financial hardships.
Before the war, universities, mosques, and youth-led initiatives collected donations for charities and provided clothes for those in need. Now most of the Strip is poor because most of us have lost their homes, money, and clothes. We have lost everything.
Despite this, we still find ways to help others. Individuals, youth-led initiatives, and international organizations distribute donated funds and clothing. Some young people launched the “One shekel, one more” campaign. They ask people to give at least one shekel if they have nothing else to give, making “from one poor to another” a reality.
This is Gaza’s spirit, my friend—giving, even in the face of nothingness. The people of Gaza are desperate but we still have hope.
The moment the new moon was confirmed for Eid this year, our people played Eid songs and said prayers, even though danger still loomed all around. We smiled and congratulated each other before visiting the graves of our loved ones. We visited each other in our tents and in our destroyed homes. And we promised our children to double their gifts and chocolates next year.
