we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
In three unexpected reunions in Egypt, I hear tragic stories that overshadow fond memories of Gaza.
The seashore, which the author passed by almost every day, was her favorite place in Gaza; in Egypt, the sea is far from where she lives and she rarely sees it. Photo: Reem Sleem
More than ten months after my displacement from Gaza, after being forcibly made to abandon my homeland and be separated from my friends and relatives, fate willed that I meet three of my friends who were displaced like me. It was not the joyful reunion that I had hoped for. In this exile that has brought us together, each of my friends had a story more tragic than those of the others.
Rawan was my neighbor in Deir Al-Balah, back home in Gaza. We share many beautiful memories. Whenever I remind myself that those memories will never be repeated, I feel a pang in my chest and sadness overwhelms me.
Three years ago Rawan and I graduated from high school together. Rawan came to visit me to congratulate me, as usual along with her mother and younger sister, Ruba. My relationship with Ruba was special, and I considered her my own little sister. That was the last time I saw my friend Rawan before she traveled to Egypt to study medicine and fulfill her father’s dream of her becoming a doctor, something he would be very proud of.
On October 10, 2023, a massive explosion shook the walls of her family’s house. In an instant, Rawan’s family was gone. She received the news of her family’s martyrdom like a thunderbolt; the shock made her faint. Only her mother survived the attack, despite severe injuries. Her mother became a grieving widow, while Rawan became a soulless body.
Grief never left her face. She missed her father’s encouraging messages, the support her brothers Mohammed and Mahmoud provided, and the innocent laughter of her little sister Ruba.
But the tragedy did not stop there; the university administration in Egypt expelled her, claiming her father was affiliated with the resistance. The war deprived her of both her family and her father’s dream.
A favorite moment in Gaza for Dua’ was passing by school children every morning on her way to her school. Photo: Dua’ Zaqout
Dua’ dreamed of completing her high school education and excelling. She was a determined student whose family supported her by enrolling her in intensive courses so she could achieve the highest grades. Wars destroy even the simplest dreams. After a month of genocide, Dua’s family decided to send her to Egypt to finish her studies. Amid the dangers and heavy shelling, Dua’ managed to flee and reach Egypt, hoping to return to Gaza after her studies.
A few days after she arrived in Egypt, thinking life had granted her a better opportunity to study, she tried to contact her family to check on them but received no response. She became gripped with worry, replaced by horror when she learned that they had been killed in an Israeli attack.
In one harsh blow, Dua’ became an orphan and alone in exile in a country she barely knew. She failed her studies and was unable to finish her education. Struggling to pay her rent in Egypt, she is now on the verge of becoming homeless. A young woman who hasn’t even turned 20 is alone in a foreign country, grieving, and at risk of being homeless.
Nada’s favorite area in Gaza was filled with restaurants and other beautiful places. Photo: Nada Abu Lebda
Nada endured no less bitter suffering.
After having lived days filled with fear under the shelling in Gaza, the whole family sleeping in one small room so they could stay close to each other and face the worst together, Nada’s family decided to leave Gaza and travel to Egypt as quickly as possible, fearing the coming Rafah incursion.
They made up their minds and decided to use their life savings to try to escape and save their lives. After waiting three months, they received permission to leave.
The reality of leaving was not easy. Nada’s feelings of loss were deep and far-reaching—leaving behind the house, her bedroom, her books, her favorite coffee cup, and bidding farewell to extended family and neighbors. Even the street vendors’ voices that she once found annoying she knew she would miss.
When the time to leave Gaza finally came, her parents and brother’s names weren’t on the list of persons authorized to leave, so Nada and her three sisters had to leave without them, following their parents’ wishes. It was a painful goodbye.
Nada and her sisters arrived in Egypt after a difficult journey and were welcomed by a friend of their father’s, who provided them with a temporary place to stay. The girls lived through days of anxiety, sadness, and fear for their family in Gaza, losing weight due to psychological distress that left them with no desire to eat.
They eventually moved into a small apartment. One day, Nada went out to buy some groceries and encountered a man whose gaze was unsettling, making her feel like prey. She tried to ignore him, but he followed her and started to harass her. She screamed and tried to escape, and luckily, a woman came out of her house upon hearing her cries and intervened, forcing him to leave her alone.
She decided never to leave the apartment alone again. As time has passed, circumstances have become increasingly difficult. Nada and her sisters live alone without support or relatives, trying to adapt to this foreign land (which denies them resident status and thus any way of making a living), while yearning for their past lives in every way. In exile, everything is different, even one’s sense of security.
Exile from war is not merely forced uprooting of a person from their homeland. It is much more: loss, pain, uncertainly, fear, and instability.
The author, in Egypt, feeling the weight of exile. Photo: Reem Sleem
As young Palestinian women we try to be strong, to resist, and also to hope. We dream of a future where we can live in peace, rebuild our lives, and perhaps even return to our homeland.
Meanwhile, we will bear the pain with patience, for after patience there can only be relief.
