The writer’s handdrawn ladder of university success. Photo by the writer

Before the war, I would come back home before midday every day, carrying my gray bag with the logo of the Islamic University of Gaza. My bag contained my laptop, books, many colored pencils, posters and journals, and perhaps a novel I bought on my way home.

Despite its weight, I carried the bag for years, as if it contained my dreams. I would walk through the beautiful streets of Gaza, with their green trees, fresh herbs, and tall buildings casting shade in the summer days. When I got home, I would head to my small, brightly-colored room and place my university bag on my desk. After that, I would perform ablutions before the noon prayer, then eat lunch with my family.

After lunch, I would make a cup of coffee, turn on the lights, open the window, close the door, and drown in my studies for hours without getting bored. When I needed a break, I would play my favorite movie on the laptop and enjoy the best moments.

Since October 7, 2023, everything has changed. First, it was the sound of gunshots. Then, the sky filled with rocket smoke. Then screaming was everywhere.

My university was partially bombed at the beginning of the war, and the pictures of it burning also burned my heart. However, I still had hope that we would be able to study in the part of the university that remained standing. Unfortunately, when the rest of the university was demolished, my dreams and beautiful memories were demolished, too.

When the occupation forced all residents, including my family, to evacuate to the southern Gaza Strip, I cried for a long time. I had waited for so long to graduate and raise my graduation cap with joy.

My mother, three sisters, and brother moved into a tent in Deir Al-Balah, near the seashore. In my diary that I kept in my bag, I had drawn a ladder and colored in each year of university that I had successfully completed. The years 2023 and 2024, however, were colored in red and surrounded by black — blood, death, destruction, and darkness.

When the university announced an application for admission to complete our studies online, I did not know about it because I was in a remote area without internet. But before long, my friend Ohood contacted me via mobile. Full of hope and enthusiasm, she told me the news. The internet and the charging point for phones are located some distance from our tent. I hurried to connect to the internet and registered for the first semester of my last year of university.

This semester is accompanied by the winter season, when gray clouds increase, and the sunlight hours, which we rely on for energy to charge phones and connect to the internet, decrease. Most days, at 8 a.m., I head outside to connect to the poor internet. I stand in the street for a long time to download the required files and lectures and submit any required assignments. Afterwards, I charge my powerless phone and return to the dark, gloomy tent, made of wood and nylon, which keeps out neither the cold nor the heat. My hands are so cold, and my energy has evaporated, as if I were a cup empty of water.

My mobile phone is the only tool that contains my university lectures, books, and files. I use it to light up the tent when it gets dark. There, I can read and study the required files in the absence of paper materials.

Recently, the professor announced that we were to take a very difficult exam. I sent my phone to the charging station so that I would be able to study. When the phone was fully charged, darkness fell in the cold tent that now looked like a grave. I turned on the light of my phone and started studying, until my eyes felt so tired looking at the screen and I fell asleep from the severity of fatigue and the cold.

At the date and time allocated for the test, I rushed to the streets drenched in wet mud to connect to the internet. My breath and heartbeat quickened. Would the internet signal be strong enough to take the test, I wondered? I sat on a chair in the street where the weather was cold and the sky was dark. The wind picked up, and it scattered some of my papers. Other papers became wet with raindrops.

I held the phone with my hands trembling in fear, and I opened the exam module. The page took several minutes to load because of the poor internet, but finally I was able to open the test. I solved the first question, but then the internet cut off. I prayed that it would come back. After two minutes, the internet returned, so I solved the second question, but then it cut off again. I said to myself that it would come back as usual, so I waited for a while, but then it completely cut off. The exam time passed. It was raining, and my phone screen was filled with raindrops mixed with tears.

The next day, a colleague told me that the test scores were available, but since I did not have internet access that day, I called my friend to inquire about my grade. She said, “It’s odd, your score is 2/10.” I was frustrated, because I have never had such a grade before. Do I, a diligent student, deserve such a mark due to the conditions of my poor internet connection? Will the internet be interrupted during the rest of the tests? How long will these difficult times last?

The only answer is that everything that happens to me is according to God’s will, and this is my path. This grade was not a failure, but rather, an invitation to be steadfast and continue to climb the ladder.