As I navigate the challenges of familial responsibility and educational aspirations, I obtain strength from others around me.
Deadly odors, insects, mice, and mosquitoes proliferate as rubbish piles up in Gaza City.
Young twins are consigned to a life of disability when the only specialist hospital in Gaza is destroyed.
Entries record a lost child, close escapes from death, home destructions, and other calamities of war.
My very sick child waits and waits for Israel to permit her to leave Gaza for the medical care she desperately needs.
A young woman survives both a missile attack that killed family members and a weeks-long siege of her neighborhood.
My nephew Hamood looks beyond his amputation and other unrepaired injuries, and toward the day when he can play soccer again.
Healthcare workers in Gaza fight against immense challenges to care for the injured.
A survivor recounts his interrogation and torture in a round-up of Palestinians at Yarmouk Stadium.
Makeshift medical hubs are insufficient to treat everyone with an injury, chronic condition, disease, or other ailment.
The children of Gaza are not characters in “The Hunger Games” and this war is not intended to amuse you.
A boy injured by Israeli bombs asks, ‘Is this my fault? Am I forbidden from playing and having fun?’
