we are not numbers

emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights

a boy on a playground.

Two completely different worlds

Happy years spent in the United Kingdom are a stark contrast to the hard circumstances back home in Gaza.
a boy on a playground.
The author as a boy at Brownlow Fold Primary School. Photo taken by his father.

When I was 4 years old, I went to live with my family in the United Kingdom. We spent three years in Bolton, part of Greater Manchester. The main purpose for traveling was so my father could study for his Ph.D. at the University of Salford.

While in Bolton, my two elder brothers and I went to British schools. My brother Abdallah and I were enrolled in Brownlow Fold Primary School, while my brother Mohammed entered Smithills High School. At the beginning, we were very reluctant to take part in any social activity due to the language barrier. However, with support from our schoolteachers, classmates and family, we adapted quickly.

Leaving Gaza and moving to a different country was not easy. It was difficult to leave friends behind and move to a new culture with a new language. But gradually, we adjusted to British culture. We began speaking the language and expressing ourselves easily. Things got better because our new city was so welcoming. We quickly felt at home, and friendly locals were always ready with a smile — in the street, on the bus, and in the park. We felt we had become members of the community, taking part in activities and on special days.

At a morning assembly one day, the school principal, Mrs. Pearson, expressed how happy she was at my improving performance by announcing that I was among the foreign students who had mastered the English language the fastest. This great news made me and my family happy and proud. My parents further encouraged me to work even harder to reach my full potential.

Acknowledging my achievements, the school granted me three tickets to attend a match when the Wanderers (the Bolton team) was playing another team in the Premier League. My dad was happy when I gave him the tickets, and my mum, my dad, and I went to attend the match at the University of Bolton Stadium. Despite it being a very cold day, we enjoyed it very much, because this was the first time we had ever attended a match in the Premier League.

Back to Gaza, and to insecurity

When my father received his Ph.D., we returned to Gaza, where we now had to not only rediscover our homeland, but also ourselves. In the schools we attended in Gaza, my brothers and I were great in all subjects, especially in English. We did well on all tests and came first in all competitions. We did well because we had picked up good habits while in Britain, such as good time management and developing oneself by reading and learning new skills.

We hope we can go back to live in the U.K. again one day, simply because it is a place where we found peace of mind, good schools, and freedom to travel. These things are lacking here in Gaza because of the ongoing Israeli siege. Life in Gaza is miserable, with 2 million people confined in an Israeli-constructed, monitored and guarded prison. Movement is restricted and peace is precarious. We experience the weight of oppressive injustice instead.

Unlike the peace of mind people experience in the U.K., Gazans lack a sense of security due to the frequent wars. Since my family came back in 2010, we have experienced four devastating wars (2012, 2014, 2021, 2022). These wars have affected us psychologically, socially, and economically.

My family is constantly worried whenever one of us leaves the house, for fear that we might become the target of the Israeli drones that constantly hover in the skies above Gaza. This insecurity has shattered our dreams.

When the days in Gaza drag, I find myself dreaming of the carefree days back in England. For example, I remember the time when a Palestinian family invited us to their home in Southend-on-Sea in London, a seaside resort at the mouth of the River Thames. We spent the day swimming and going on amusement park rides such as a roller coaster, bumper cars, and sky drop.

young man at college.
The author today, back in Gaza.

Last September, we woke to the news of the death of Rayan Sulieman, a 5-year-old boy from the West Bank village of Taqoa, whose heart stopped with fear while being chased by heavily armed Israeli soldiers. Heartbroken at the news about Rayan, I remembered how children in the U.K. live happily, fearing nothing while going to and from school.

Nowhere to relax

Another thing that struck me on returning to Gaza was the lack of recreational space. Every city in the U.K. has free, public parks and rec centers. They are packed with children playing games, without fear for their safety. But Gaza, one of the most densely populated areas in the world, has no recreational centers where people can relax or unwind. With a total area of 365 square kilometers (141 square miles), it has very few parks for people to enjoy, and those we do have require admission fees that people from poor families cannot afford.

Even the sea, which is the favorite destination for Gazans, is not safe. The Israeli coast guard often targets people lying on the beach, as well as Palestinian fishing boats. During the 2014 Israeli aggression on Gaza, four children in the Bakr family were killed while they played on the beach.

Even cinemas, which in the past attracted a lot of people to see foreign films, have now been closed, with many of them turned into apartment buildings.

In 2012,  the United Nations declared that Gaza would be unlivable by the year 2020. It’s now 2023. With the Israeli siege entering its 16th year, life in Gaza is a world away from life outside it. People exist here. They can’t truly live.

Mentor: Jodie Jones

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