It is a hot summer night. An hour remains before the electricity will shut off. Fuel is in short supply, as usual, so we each only get power for about six hours at a time these days. As “d-hour” gets closer, I hurry like a fat kid afraid someone else will eat his favorite cake. Sitting at my desk in the living room, I am racing to finish reading an article for one of my online physiotherapy courses.
What will I do when the electricity shuts off, I muse, and I am plunged into darkness? Such worrying is a waste of time, however, because then the time is at hand and blackness descends. It is 10 p.m., and with the blades of my fan now still, the heat is sticking to me as if it’s hugging me in a tight, cloying embrace. Like an annoying relative who is invading my personal space.
I roll up an old newspaper, fanning myself in a futile attempt to create some cool air. Sleeping is the only escape, but can I, under such high temperatures? It’s more than 85 degrees F. (32 degrees C.) and sweat is collecting in every crevice of my body.
I am thankful there is at least running water. Water is also in crisis here, due to the lack of power. It comes into our pipes just twice a week, which means we have to collect it in a reservoir so we can wash daily. I get up, go to the bucket in the kitchen and splash my face and arms several times with the tepid water, trying not to use too much. I go back to bed and lie down on the blanket, thinking. My thoughts crash endlessly in my head, like waves on a restless sea. My nightly, painful monologue begins.
I feel like I'm half human, half caged animal, isolated from the world. Suddenly, an absurd image pops into my head: Simba from The Lion King. He’d tell me “hakuna matata”—the Swahili phrase for “no worries.” But I swat at him in my mind. This life is killing me slowly. I need to escape from everything, even myself. I put my earphones on. Music is my escape.
My last wish as I drift is for a few more hours of electricity. This is what it means to live in Gaza. I finally fall asleep.
Posted August 30, 2016
