we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
From the moment they are born, Palestinians in Gaza wait for the inevitability of death.
People returning to their homes in north Gaza on January 19, 2025. Photo taken by Khaled Al-Qershali at the Al-Nabulsi roundabout
While people throughout the world pray for a long life, the youth of Palestine wish to die. They believe it is the only escape from their miserable lives in the tents, their only way to reunite with loved ones killed by the violence of the Israeli military assault.
When the Israeli army declared its intention to start its ground operation in Gaza City on Aug. 20, 2025, many Palestinians refused to evacuate to the south again. Endless displacement is worse than death.
Famine has gripped everywhere in Gaza.
My neighbor, Foaud Abu Gabal, went to one of the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) distribution points seeking food. He was hungry. On June 26, we had gone to the Rafah distribution point but returned empty-handed. The next morning, Foaud went to the Netzarim distribution point. I did not go with him. I needed food too, but knew that only death was distributed there. I was reading the news on my phone while drinking a cup of salt water so as not to feel dizzy. When I found out where Foaud had gone, I became worried. Everyone knows that the soldiers shoot at any moving creature.
While waiting for the GHF to open, Foaud took shelter beneath the Al-Wadi bridge which was about 10 meters from the site. He wanted to be as close as possible when the GHF opened because this raised the chance of getting aid. But Foaud, along with other civilians around him, was bombed from overhead. At noon, Foaud’s family were informed their son had been killed. Foaud sacrificed his life in the hope of bringing home something to eat. This does not mean that Foaud’s life was worth less than the food he went to find; it means that his life was hellish—unbearable!
After burying his son, Abu Fouad was consumed by grief. He could not bear that he would never see his son again. Three days later, he returned to the same distribution point to seek death. He wished to join his son in eternal life. Abu Fouad was injured at the site. Fragments tore apart his leg but he escaped death. He survived. Abu Fouad lived to keep his memory of his son alive. He lived to take care of his other children. Hopefully they would have a future.
While riding in the back of a truck heading to Deir Al-Balah, an old man said to me, “It would be easier if the occupation erased us than living this wretched life.” Arafat Al-Masri is a Palestinian from Beit Hanoun, north of Gaza City. After the destruction of his home and city, Al-Masri sought refuge in another part of Gaza City. He believes people prefer death over evacuating to tents in southern Gaza again. If he had to die, he wanted to die in his city, with his dignity and honor intact.
After Abdulrahman Shallah lost his mother and his shelter on April 3, 2025, he too wished to die, but he had to care for his father and sister, who both had serious leg injuries. He also had to care for two younger siblings, Mohammed and Malek, who were pulled from beneath the rubble. Malek’s body had second-degree burns everywhere, but Mohammed’s condition was worse. His skull and thigh were broken, and half the flesh on the right side of his face was torn away. After evacuating to the south to seek medical help, Abdulrahman and his family had no shelter, no food, and no clothes. He sought help at the GHF sites but always returned empty handed. None of them wanted to continue living. Although wishing to die, Abdulrahman started studying hard to complete his final high school exams. He fought despair with education. It was a courageous act of resistance.
Despite the hardship of displacement, constant bombing, hunger, and tent life, there are still people who dream of a future. My grandfather, Hejazi Al-Qershali, with the help of many relatives, some of whom are teachers, built a big teaching tent in Al-Zawayda, the camp they had been evacuated to. He managed to find funding from foreign institutions to get school supplies for the children. Although the children were responsible for helping their families by fetching potable water and searching for firewood, hundreds of students came to the teaching tent seeking education. Education became their form of defiance; it was their claim to dignity in the midst of devastation.
While at a gathering with neighbors, I thought of two friends who were killed by the Israeli military, but this time I did not feel sad about their deaths. Instead, I felt envious. In Gaza, we live to die and die to live. If someone dies, another will keep his memory. Gaza is a place where survival feels like betrayal, and death feels like a reunion. Our great poet, writer, translator, university professor, activist, and journalist, Dr. Refaat Alareer, was assassinated in December 2023. He was 43 years old. Since then I have been working to keep his voice and memory alive.
Gaza is a place where people are not allowed to grow old. Yet, despite death, famine, and unimaginable loss, many still cling to the radical hope of living.
