If Gaza lost all of its beautiful young and innocent children, women would make dozens more.
Listening to my students, I feel as though I am standing between their childhoods and the war, trying to help them build a bridge towards hope.
With Gaza’s Enforcement Department no longer functioning, men can avoid paying support and even take sons and daughters from their mothers.
Playing guitar for and with others became my therapy and my form of resistance.
Maybe in another life / you would have lost your tooth / instead of your eye.
Teaching English was more than just a career; it served as a stabilizing force in my otherwise hectic existence. That part of me is missing now.
After a year, the body of Santa is / still under the rubble along with / his bag of gifts and the list of names / of the children.
‘I want to read and write. That is my future. I want to be an astronaut, to fly above all this.’
My two childhood companions were martyred within a day of each other. Where is humanity? Where is global conscience?
Lamia Hatem, who founded the first school for the children of martyrs in Gaza, is both mother and teacher to her students.
‘I can still hear their cries when we left the house,’ says Mera. ‘I tried to hold them, to tell them everything would be fine — but I couldn’t believe it myself.’
In Gaza, peril surrounds pregnancy, birth, and infancy. Parents wonder how much longer their children will be denied the right to live in safety.
