we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
Her inspiration, support, and love have helped me persevere through momentous challenges to obtain my master’s degree
A modest pre-graduation celebration with my sister and cousins in Gaza on May 10, 2026. Photo: Nada Hamdona
It has never been straightforward for me to complete my master’s degree. In September 2023, a month before the war started, I enrolled in a master’s program in international relations and diplomacy at Al-Aqsa University in Gaza. The person who was happiest about it was my grandmother. Throughout my life, she has been my greatest supporter, mentor, and source of inspiration. She was a constant inspiration to me to set lofty goals, never stop studying, and even consider getting a Ph.D. in the future. What kept me going was her unshakeable faith in me.
In August 2022, on the day that I had received my certificate for my B.A. in arts and education with honors, my grandma gave me a lovely gold bracelet. Unfortunately, when it was time for the graduation ceremony, my father and I were in Egypt with my grandfather, who was undergoing successful heart surgery. I was unable to attend the ceremony, but I always feel my grandmother’s love and pride in me when I look at that bracelet.
I returned to Gaza from Egypt in May 2023, about five months before the war started. Back then, life was serene and comfortable. Gaza was seeing tremendous development: numerous new eateries, cafés, and shopping malls had opened, and the streets had gotten larger, cleaner, and more orderly. The city seemed livelier than before. When people returned to Gaza after a few years away, they were frequently taken aback by how much the city had changed and how lovely it had become.
Additionally, new neighborhoods and leisure spaces had emerged, providing fantastic locations to take in the scenery, the sea, and spend quality time with loved ones. Many people were optimistic about the future. Gaza seemed similar to many foreign towns, but because of its distinct personality, friendly locals, and breathtaking seaside landscape, it felt even more special. It was home.
When I enrolled in the master’s program, I promised my grandma that I would plan a celebration and decorate our garden in pink at graduation. But life in Gaza has its own agenda. Sadly, my grandma died just two weeks after I started. I was shocked to lose her, and I still can’t get over her passing. I would frequently sit in front of her vacant chair, recalling her kind words and warm smile.
As if destiny hadn’t been harsh enough, the war broke out just one week later. Our garden, which I had imagined adorning for my graduation celebration, is no longer there, and the war totally destroyed our house.
Life in northern Gaza came to a full halt. Everything around me became unpredictable. The war interrupted my master’s program and terminated my father’s employment. Students were forced to rely on online learning because colleges and universities had been destroyed or seriously damaged. Regular internet and power failures made it difficult to attend classes, access resources, and maintain any sense of academic continuity.
The optimism and self-assurance my grandmother had instilled in me persisted, even though I had to temporarily put my studies on hold. Even in the thick of uncertainty, I made an effort to think clearly.
In spite of frequent power disruptions and erratic internet connectivity, I managed to participate in online classes and turn in assignments. I had to travel long distances to find a location with internet access. There was often no transportation, and getting from one place to another could be risky. It was difficult to finish my studies because of these issues, but I tried my hardest to keep going.
I began translating both Turkish and English for a number of organizations. Every paper I worked on, and every article I translated, was a step closer to independence. It was never easy to juggle a job and my ambition, but I was able to save enough money to pay for my thesis and a portion of my first year’s tuition.
My master’s thesis, “The Chinese Role in East Africa,” is what I’m working on right now. For me, this research is more than simply an academic assignment; it’s a chance to celebrate my grandmother’s support and faith in me. Every night I spend writing and conducting research, I am reminded of why I began this journey in the first place.
One of the challenges I continue to face while working on my thesis is a lack of reliable electricity. Because of its age, my laptop battery needs to be recharged several times a day. My household, like many others in Gaza, relies on a private generator connection during extended power outages, and the cost of generator electricity is prohibitively high. In order to continue writing and conducting research, I’ve had to carefully plan my work around these restrictions.
And yet life continues. I recently went to a restaurant with my sister and cousins. Even though my thesis defense was still a month away, I was taken aback when they surprised me with a modest celebration — a cake adorned with a rocket and a note on the plate that said, “Congratulations on your Master’s graduation, Nada.” This simple gathering brightened my day and served as a reminder that there are many different ways to celebrate.
My experience is not unusual; many young people in Gaza deal with similar challenges. Continuing their education remains challenging due to the war, uncertain living conditions, and even the limited access to the essentials of life. Their circumstances, not a lack of intelligence or willpower, force them to interrupt or give up on their studies. Even those who study overseas encounter significant obstacles. For instance, my younger brother Issa, a 23-year-old medical student in Egypt, consistently struggles to pay his living expenses and tuition, even though he does well academically and maintains an exceptional GPA.
There are many bright and gifted students in Gaza. If steady opportunities and support are provided, they have the capacity to adapt and succeed. We are still fighting for our education, aspirations, and future in spite of all the challenges. Every obstacle we overcome, every essay we write, and every test we pass carries the memories of people like my grandma who had faith in us.
I’m feeling both proud and sad as graduation draws near. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished in spite of the tremendous challenges I am facing, but I’m also sorry that my grandmother isn’t here to celebrate with me, and that the garden I planned to adorn is no longer there. All these recollections, however, inspire me to move forward. I intend to have a little celebration with my loved ones following my thesis defense, just as I had imagined.
My grandmother’s support and affection are ingrained in my heart, serving as a constant reminder that tenacity and resolve are essential for conquering the most difficult situations. My desire, which is to learn, succeed, and make a difference, as she always inspired me to do, is now entwined with her legacy.
