
I look forward to eight o’clock every morning, not because it’s my favorite time of day, but because it’s the only time I can use our shared phone.

The writer clutching the family phone. (Photo: Saeda Hamdouna)
There are nine of us in the family. Five of us—my mother, my three brothers, and I—all use the same phone. It’s a Redmi with a battery health of 78% of a normal phone. We need to recharge frequently and it functions sluggishly. Every minute I can use it is precious.
Each morning, I sit by the window and swiftly log into my educational platform to follow my classes, aware of how little time I have. I am studying Data Science and Artificial Intelligence for a bachelor’s degree at the College of Applied Sciences, part of the Islamic University of Gaza. I find myself fretting over my phone rather than paying attention to the course and my lecturer presenting a new idea. I worry that before I can take notes or fully comprehend what’s going on in the lecture, the internet connection will drop or the phone battery will run out. All too frequently, I have to try to fill in blanks on my own after the lecture is over.
In what seems like a matter of minutes, my brother needs the phone for his studies. Then my mother uses it to call my brother in Egypt and my married sister in Khan Younis, checking that both are doing well. I feel like I am trying to create a future out of a few minutes on the phone.
In some parts of the world, a phone might mainly be an entertainment device. But for me and other Gazan students, it’s what allows us to study. It’s how we stay in touch with our lecturers, how we attend our lectures, and how we complete our homework assignments despite scarce resources. Here in Gaza, a phone is our lifeline for learning.
This is not just my story; it is a common reality for many people in Gaza due to the extended closure of borders, and restrictions on goods that are allowed to enter. Among these are the limited number of affordable mobile phones imported, which is part of a severe shortage of electronic equipment. This shortage has increased the already high cost of phones, with some models costing thousands of dollars and prices rising daily.
Before I began my undergraduate education, I aspired to a well-organized student life. I even intended to start a YouTube channel where I would make “study with me” videos. These are videos where the creator films themselves studying so that viewers can join in and feel motivated. The idea is to create a shared atmosphere of focus and share one’s daily activities. The phone problem prevented me from realizing this ambition. While students in other regions of the world have access to computers, phones, and tablets, which improves the efficiency of their studying and thus their chances of obtaining scholarships, we struggle far more to obtain even the most basic educational resources.
My friend Masa, for example, doesn’t own any devices at all. Every time she wants to study, she has to travel a long distance because her university is in the north of Gaza and she lives in the south. She takes a taxi whenever she can afford it, but frequently walks half the way to avoid paying fare. She stays in the university’s study space for an hour or two to view her lectures on tape before heading back home.
Although Lana, another acquaintance, does have a phone, she is unable to study effectively due to her poor internet and frequent power outages. It is extremely challenging for her to attend online lectures, download course materials and lectures (which often take an hour to download), or finish homework because she lives in a camp for displaced people where electricity is frequently unavailable.
Lana and Masa are not exceptions. The absence of electronic equipment, erratic internet, and frequent power outages are all problems that many students in Gaza deal with on a daily basis. I don’t aspire to own the newest technology or the priciest phone. I just hope to have a device that will enable me to attend lessons without disruption, learn without fear, and compete fairly with students worldwide.
Reopening the crossings would not only give us access to technology but also enable us to leave Gaza in order to take advantage of educational opportunities that are currently unattainable here. We would have the opportunity to learn in better settings and create futures free from the constraints of a lack of fundamental resources. The sweetest goal I have as a student is to be able to continue my education without constantly worrying about losing access to my classes and to have the resources that every student should have.
For now, my mornings remain the same. I get up early to wait for my turn to use our shared phone. It is not the university experience that I envisioned. But each lecture I attend, each paragraph I write, and each learning moment moves me closer to the future I see for myself.