"Literature mirrors reality and increases our understanding of it,'' were the first words I heard from my short story instructor. I embraced this wisdom, eager to dissect, analyze and interpret works of literature.

Indeed, every story I read broadens my perception of life. One book, however, has stuck with me the most: George Orwell's novel “1984.”

Orwell describes the valiant struggle of hope in the face of tyranny, in which the latter shamefully wins. For those who haven’t read it, here is a quick summary: The regime in power forces the people to take drugs that freeze their emotions and neutralize their humanity, creates shortages of vital supplies, monitors their every action and tortures those who disobey. Sick of being a tool in the hands of the tyrannical regime, the hero—Winston Smith—decides to rebel. However, after his alleged betrayal of the party is revealed, Smith is subjected to every type of psychological and physical torture, forcing him to give up and return to the “stable,” the regime.

What touched my heart so deeply is the part when an old man screams under torture: "Do anything to me! You've been starving me for weeks. Finish it off and let me die. Shoot me. Hang me. Sentence me to 25 years. Is there somebody else you want me to give away? Just say who it is and I’ll tell you anything you want. I don't care who it is or what you do to them. I've got a wife and three children. The biggest of them isn't yet 6 years old. You can take the whole lot of them and cut their throats in front of my eyes, and I'll stand by and watch it. But not Room 101."

The novel's principle message is that the real defeat is the defeat of the heart. 

'1984' in Gaza

Gaza—this poor, estranged, war-ravaged territory—has been subjected to a smothering siege for more than 10 years, along with three brutal wars. The people's only “mistake,” just like Smith’s, is disobeying the tyrannical Israeli government—demanding their basic rights and the opportunity for dignified lives. Israel has deprived us of electricity after bombarding the power plant multiple times; closed the border in the face of patients, students and traders; prevented us from farming our most fertile land and fishing in our best waters; and threatened us with annihilation when we fight back.

A territory that could be the most beautiful place on earth, Gaza has brought to this world brilliant engineers, distinguished doctors, talented artists and prolific writers. Instead, we are gradually running out of hope and patience. Hope is a superhero inside everyone who, if it is able to find a foothold, gives us the strength to confront obstacles. In the free world, hope nurtures patience, positivity and determination. But in Gaza, the seemingly never-ending series of letdowns and defeats keeps punching it down.

My own struggle with internal defeat

Ever since I was denied permission to exit last year so I could travel to Spain to study, I have dedicated every second and every breath to a second try.  It goes against my nature to surrender without fighting for my dream until the last breath.

I reapplied for my Spanish visa and waited for it to arrive. Then the radio broadcast this: "Breaking news: Rafah crossing [the gate between Gaza and Egypt] will open for five days." For a second, I was jubilant, as if my soul was soaring with the birds in the distant sky. Then it hit me: I could not be among the travelers this time. My visa had not yet arrived. Only God knows how many months it will be before Rafah opens again. And yet no other country or international body objects. The Israeli government has desensitized virtually the entire world the same way the regime in 1984 did.

Becoming our own heroes 

Two million people in the Gaza Strip are imprisoned, not even allowed to get proper medical treatment, and yet much of the world turns a blind eye.

Israel and the countries that support it have turned hope into the pain of loss and neglect. After I was denied permission to travel to Spain last year, depression and anger invaded my heart; I wanted to climb to the highest place in Gaza and scream at the top of my lungs: "Don't dream, youth of Gaza! Wake up! There is never gonna be a happy ending! You will not make it out of Gaza! All doors are locked! Save yourself the tantalizing, far-fetched daydreaming!"  After all, what is a human being without hope and a dream worth living for?

I cannot get over my obsession with travelling, though, and the fact that I still may have a chance. Although I know I could very well be disappointed again this year, I can confidently say it will have been worth the effort. I learned to always be open to meeting new people. I learned that first experiences are often frightening, but there is no shame in fright. I learned that the best way to organize my mind and plan my way forward is to write my next steps down so I stay focused. I learned that my faith in Allah and saying the five daily prayers are the keys to my stability and persistence. I learned to be responsible for my every decision and action. I also learned that as long as I am internally strong, external persecutors can never hold me back. I learned to work under pressure and with great uncertainty. I learned how words of support during hard times warm the heart. I still remember my conversation with my friend Ali, to whom I am much obliged, after I failed to travel last year:  

Me: I kinda feel empty from the inside, as if I lost every reason to move forward. For the first time in my life, giving up seems the only possible exit from this inferno I am stranded in.

Ali: Giving up won’t make it easier. Do not concede. You've earned this [the right to study abroad] and already moved a long way toward it. Don’t be so hard on yourself; have faith in what Allah has predestined. 

It had always been my conviction that I belong to strong and patient people who can endure the unbearable. However, "1984" opened my eyes to the fact that the continued persecution and torture of a human being is capable of crushing the soul. That the hero, Winston Smith, ends up a tool of tyranny in the hands of the regime again is quite frustrating and alarming. I, the hero of my own story, refuse to yield or give up. I won't be defeated or depressed. I won't go down without a fight.

International director's note: As each day passes, and the Rafah crossing remains closed, Mahmoud's chance of traveling to Spain for his educational program is diminishing. Today he said to me, "I've been fighting for two years for this, and I am really so tired. I'm losing faith in myself and everything. Kinda broken.​" However, he is not alone. Mahmoud has the We Are Not Numbers family. And we will look for other opportunities for him.

Posted August 23, 2016