My cousin’s experience of injury and partial recovery, of despair and renewed hope, is emblematic of so many stories from Gaza today.
Ahmed Abu-Aljidian may be blind, but he can picture himself thriving at a university abroad.
Through my work as an ophthalmologist in Gaza, I have helped patients and also eased my own pain.
The life of an exceptional student has been torn apart by siege, occupation, and war. God willing, inshallah, he will persevere.
For my brother Hassan, the sounds of war are a full-scale physical and psychological assault, trapping him in a state of constant terror.
Even being paralyzed has not dented Sarah’s determination to serve others by entering the medical profession.
Mohammad Yousef Al-Najjar is determined to become a diplomat or an international legal advocate.
The world watches Israel starve and decimate my people with impunity while I’m frightened and hungry.
Insects swarm in the unsanitary conditions of displacement and leave few unscathed from nightly bites and stings.
I used to be young in spirit, health, and looks. Now I am none of these things—I am a mother praying for happiness and healing.
Living in Gaza means living in a constant state of fear, which took root with the first blast.
Limbs are precious treasures in Gaza, and the ability to walk can mean the difference between life and death.
