13 October 2024

Life on October 6, 2023

While the world reflected on the first anniversary of the Gaza genocide, residents of Gaza were recalling their last beautiful and stable days in their homes before the war.

Many Palestinians from Gaza shared their hopes for their lives before the war, considering October 6 to be the last day of their lives. After this date, all that followed was a neverending cycle of displacement, killing, and continuous destruction.

Many Palestinians in Gaza measure the progress of the war according to what they lost. On October 6, 2024, people began posting pictures and video clips of their homes, neighborhoods, and families on social media, describing the pictures as their last beautiful day in the Gaza Strip.

Some people posted a family photo, saying it was the last photo of the entire family together before some or all of them were killed. Some shared photos of the exterior of their homes adorned with trees and flowers before they were turned into rubble. Some shared photos of their children who were killed in the war.

Mondoweiss spoke to people in Gaza and asked them about the hopes and dreams they had built — and the genocidal war that destroyed it all.

Amira Osama, 13

Amira is the eldest of ten children. She lives in a tent in al-Zawaida, a town in the central Gaza Strip.

What was your life like before the war?

Despite all the difficult circumstances we were going through in Gaza before the war, we were able to endure. We were in our homes, among our families, relatives, and friends. There was safety in Gaza. We could go out whenever we wanted from the house and go anywhere without fear or worry.

What changed after the war?

I lost everything. I lost my home and my school. A number of my friends were martyred. I left the city that I love, its streets and alleys. I left Gaza City, and I am no longer able to return to it, even just for once. I want to walk in my alley and say goodbye to it.

What are your last beautiful memories in Gaza?

Our family breakfast, minutes before the war broke out. My whole family and I were gathered in our home in the Shuja’iyya neighborhood. My mother was preparing breakfast for us. My father was sitting, surrounded by all my siblings. They were laughing happily, waiting for fresh food. We ate breakfast, and the war broke out while sitting at the table. These were the last beautiful memories that I carry in my heart. A picture of a happy family satisfied with very little. This picture was not repeated after the war; the house was bombed, we were separated, and we started living in a tent. Since then, I have not seen a smile on the face of my father or any of my brothers; we all became miserable.

Tariq Ibrahim, 20

Tareq is a young man in the prime of his life. A few days before the war broke out, Tariq registered for his university studies at the Faculty of Engineering at the Islamic University in Gaza. His mother was forced to sell some of her gold to provide him with the cost of the first semester, hoping that he would excel in his studies and get a scholarship from the university as an outstanding student.

Tareq registered for the university, paid what he had, and was waiting for the start of the school year to join the engineering cohort for the first time, but he joined thousands of displaced people from Gaza City to the south instead. Tareq, his mother, and his two brothers were able to flee to Egypt during the war, where they are now staying.

What changed after the war?

Everything. My father went missing. We know nothing about him. My family was torn apart, and I lost my homeland.

I lost my dream of becoming an engineer; it was as if time had stopped, and I no longer understood what was happening, why I emigrated from my country, why the Israelis occupied and destroyed it, why am I here in Cairo, and what I should do now. I don’t know the answer to all these questions that never stop in my head.

What are your last beautiful memories in Gaza?

One day before the war. We were at home. The whole family and my father had high hopes for me because I was the first of his sons to register for university studies. He used to say, we will close one eye and open it again to see you as a great engineer with a bright future. My mother used to say that I would be able to give her gold instead of what she sold to pay my university fees, and my heart was filled with confidence and love for my family. This was the last image of Gaza before the war, the family together, drinking tea together. But everything was destroyed.

I no longer see my father. I did not have the opportunity to say goodbye to him. If he died, he does not have a grave, and I do not know where I can visit him. I now feel like I am a bombed house, empty and destroyed.

Alaa Hamid, 44

Alaa Hamid has been a teacher in the Gaza Strip’s schools for 20 years. Last year, he put all his savings together and took a bank loan to build a house for himself and his family after living in his father’s house with his brothers.

Alaa built the house he had dreamed of all his life. “I worked all my life and thought about the day when I would build a house for my family with my money and work.” Alaa lived in the house for only two months before he was forced to leave it and flee.

What changed after the war?

After the war, nothing remained the same. Everything changed. Instead of starting my usual day with the smiling faces of students, my day began with the faces of children standing in lines to fill water and get food. Instead of waking up in the house I built with my blood and sweat and eating breakfast with my family, I now wake up in a tent on the sand and start my morning by searching for water to wash my face.

We used to live a difficult life but adapted to the difficulties. Now, we live an impossible life and cannot even get used to it. We do not deserve this life that is filled with death, helplessness, and deprivation.

What are your last beautiful memories in Gaza?

My house and the walls on which I hung pictures of my family were all I had. I was sitting in my home on the evening of October 6, looking at the whole city of Gaza from my window. My children were happy, playing and laughing out loud. I felt proud that after 20 years of work, I was able to build a home for my family. On our last day in it, we were thinking about the difficulties we went through to get to this house. The next day, we left it and have not returned since.

Hind Nasser, 63

Hind eagerly waited to retire from her job at one of the United Nations offices in Gaza. Upon retirement, an employee receives a significant financial reward as an end of service.

When Hind received her benefits, she bought a house. Her husband helped her and put in his savings so that the family could have the home they dreamed of. The family was planning for their eldest son’s marriage, so they built an apartment for him in the house.

During the first days of the war, the house was bombed in the ‘Sudanese area’ in the northern Gaza Strip, and the family was displaced and scattered across displacement centers.

What changed after the war?

I no longer believe that anything we own in Gaza could remain with us and for us. My husband and I paid for everything we owned to build a house where we could spend our lives in peace among our children and grandchildren, but in one moment, everything was destroyed, and our dreams were shattered.

I lost my entire life after the war. We have nothing left except the tent we live in.

What are your last beautiful memories in Gaza?

On October 6, we were gathered at the dinner table next to our garden, where we planted roses and jasmine. My children were saying that they wanted to travel outside Gaza due to its difficult circumstances. Still, I was telling them that there is no place like Gaza and that they will only enjoy comfort and stability in Gaza. The children were convinced and decided to stay. It was the most beautiful night for me before the war when I sat with my family and was able to convince them of the necessity of staying in Gaza. We slept that night, and all woke up wishing we were in a place other than Gaza.

(From Mondoweiss)