DUSK OVER GAZA

Readers, my online friends...i have taken the liberty of using some names of my friends...please forgive me for taking this liberty. Hopefully, some comments could be left on this page to make the story better :-)


“Mum, can I have my present now?” Her sweet angelic eyes blinked and pleaded. Her warm gaze held my eyes for quite some time. It made me almost surrender. But imagining open up the present with her tomorrow on New Year’s Eve braced me. It’s a moment we rarely shared together. As much as I wanted to lift her up and swirled her around across our little room, I should reject her persuasion. I wanted it to be special. Her birthday must be so very special this time. I would make her happy.

“Be patient, sweetheart. Wait until tomorrow night. I promise it will be a lot of fun.” The words came out from my mouth swiftly. “Fun” was something luxurious we did not enjoy over years. In fact, since her birth the word ‘fun’ looked like something magical elusive in our life. It surprised me how she could grow healthy and taller every day in such dark ages like this. She was so pretty with her dark raven eyes matching with her dark long hair. She inherited an oval face like her father with fair skin and strong jaw line. She grew taller in her sixth year of age. Her smile never left her face ever since she was born. She was born when hundreds of missile launched to our district. No electricity, no clean water, no phone available during that time of crisis. But she never gave up hope. Her tiny head shot in the hours of chaos. Her crying broke the darkest night. It was a magic casted in the most horrible time of my year. Over my agony and sorrow for the lost of my beloved, she came like spring water in driest desert. And she smiled afterwards as if she said “don’t worry Mum, everything will be Ok”. That’s how my angel born…under the blazing fire and the debris…surrounded by deaths and pains. She was my angel, my little queen, Amira.

“Ok then!” she shrugged with a bit disappointment but kept on smiling. She grabbed her bag and kissed me softly. “Tomorrow, Mum. Don’t forget this time! I’m leaving. Amir has been waiting for me. Love you, Mum.” She hurried to the door and waved goodbye. She disappeared at the turn of the street with Amir, her constant guardian and friend.

“I love you too, angel.” I whispered the words by the time I could no longer see them. It frightened me to keep those words aloud as if it might choke me if I let it aloud. I was so scared if evils might eavesdrop those words and stole my angel away. Evils floated everywhere in this district. It flew like a vulture, seeking any opportunity to steal away most precious thing within our life. They did not like us to have any endearment because we lived in a wide wild prison, an invisible prison for others but visible for the people who lived in this district. Those vultures wanted us to live in sadness and sorrows, taking away all meaningful in our life with their swift sharp claws…to break our spirit that would urge us to sell our souls to evil. I shuddered on the image of them taking my angel away, the same way they took my Husein and the rest of my family.

“Allah, most merciful and affectionate, please kindly protects my Amira. Don’t let any harm befall her. She’s the apple of my eyes and I could not live without her smile.” I prayed in silent, a ritual I had done daily to let her go. I snatched my bag and left for work. It took almost an hour of walking to the hospital I worked in. There was no public transport available as all were crushed. Walking was the safest way.
***

The boy screamed frantically in a stretcher carried by two muscular young men. Blood covered all over his body. His right leg dangled weakly outside the stretcher as if it was a rotten lump of wasted flesh. His face was half damaged and covered in thick red blood. His hands tried to cover it up as if there was something stinging and biting. He struggled for air and there’s a little piece of metal burst out of his bloody chest. It glittered like a sparkle of diamond under the sunlight. Amazingly, it was the only thing that was free from the blood. I shivered and tried to keep up with the stretcher. Looking at his poor condition, I could tell that his wounds were serious. The metal must be immediately removed with risky outcome. I tried so hard to hold him still so that he would not make any more damage on his already maimed body. I uttered words to comfort him, asking what’s his name and family. Trying to divert his mind from the pain, it was the least I could do for him at the moment. I held his hands closely to give him support and squeezed his half unwounded face. He looked so much in pain but he made effort not to scream anymore. He looked at my eyes and held my hands back as if he was trying to say “Don’t worry sister, I’ll be OK. There’s be a better place waiting for me.”

Gush… I wiped out that imagination out of my mind. My heart raced fast. I averted my eyes somewhere else. I could not look him in the eyes, not with that concealed pain. Something was burning inside my heart and it ached badly. The boy was barely 17. Even if he survived, he would never live normal again, not with that half smashed face and leg. He was just in his early life. He should have gone to college and went out with girls, to have some fun. “Fun”, the very thought of this sent an electrical wave through my body. I fought the tears that tried to betray me. No, I must not cry in front of this boy. I looked at his eyes again, they were closed now. He murmured some prayers. I saw creases on his forehead and knew that he battled with his misery. I prayed “Allah, Most Gracious and generous, please ease his pain.” Then, I wanted to curse aloud “Why do you kill our children too? Why do you keep thirsty with blood of our kins?”

Anger swept through my very essence that made me almost lost balance. With great effort, I drew an image of my Amira. She’s the only one who kept me sane all these years. She’s the only reason why I was not buried in ocean of hatred. Her smile was the antidote of my anger…seeing her innocent angelic face….hearing her reciting the divine verses…hearing her singing our lullaby. She’s the only reason over the years of her existence that there was hope, there was love. I made me come to believe that someday love will overpower hate.

Yet, my hope seemed fading away slowly. It slipped away through my fingers anytime I was at work. Seeing more people in pain, people who did not deserve to get hurt. People, who loved the way I did towards our dearest, people who believed in hope of peace. They always came bloody and maimed. Children screamed in agony merely because they played too close to the targeting areas. Often, sometimes home was not the safest place for them. Any blast could hit them day and night. It’s not fair at all. How could we find a safe place for our children while they kept firing missiles to our territory? Those children should have fun, enjoyed their games, and laughed in cheers. Instead, they saw blood everywhere, they saw hatred and anger. How could we teach them about love when what they saw on daily basis was quite a contrast. I was a mother. It torn me to pieces realizing there was no safe place for my child. To live in constant fear that something bad might happen while the kids away. Worse, the thought of our kids being trapped in a shattered building waiting to die. This despair sometimes drove me insane. I was lucky I still had my Amira.

We arrived at the emergency room. To my frustration, the room was full. I saw blood everywhere. Old, young, men, and women with IV in each bed soaked in agony. Nurses and doctors worked hand in hand to pace up with time and limited medical supplies. I should have known. Last night, I’ve heard another crash at the southern district. It was aloud and deafening followed by waves of blazing thunder. Some more missiles dropped by the vultures. They hit civilian houses. I tried to cover my ears so I would not listen the uproars. I held my Amira close and made a prayer “Dear Lord, save us.”

“Ahmed, we need a surgeon. This boy is dying.” I screamed to my colleague tending an old man at the corner. He looked at me and shrugged his head in vain. Helplessness shot through those weary eyes.

“He will die if he’s not getting proper surgery. Half his body was smashed by metal crash. There’s a piece of metal pierced through his chest. He lost too many blood.” I blurted and almost choked with tears.

“Everybody is dying, Maryam. We can not save them all, not with limited resources and meds. All hands are full, don’t you see that? Get hold of yourself and do the best you can do to save him. I’ve got already this old man with a hole on his throat and a five years old girl who got shot at her head. I’ve thought you have used to this kind situation.” Ahmed shouted in despair.

“Oh, God speed.” I whispered. I’ve been working for almost all my life in this hospital, the only hospital stood in this old slum district of Gaza. It recruited any available resource to help, even those who did not any expertise in medication. I was recruited when I was 15. I never attended any nursery school. All knowledge about medication and surgery was acquired by practice. The doctors and other nurses taught us by doing. This hospital was my school and they were my teachers. Since my apprentice, I saw deaths around me. Innocents who suffered from the missile blast, children who got buried in the debris, men who were shot at close encounter just because they were Palestinian. I saw tears and pains of their families. I saw despair and fear. I felt their agony. Yet, years of practice did not do me justice. I was not immune yet to this. Every death took a piece of me. Now, I was like a walking zombie.

I looked around again. I saw men and women in white run to and fro from one patient to another. I heard screaming and crying all around. The red stain on the floor, wall, and the white sheet stood in contrast with the white uniforms. I was like in a trench for a moment, trying to figure out a puzzle in my head with a clock tick tock on my mind. Then, I saw an unoccupied long table at the northern corner of the room. I made a gesture for the men to follow me. I cleared out the table. It was quite proper.

“Put him on that table, slowly and carefully. Try not to touch the metal.” I made an order to the men carrying the stretcher. I knew that one little mistake could end his life. His eyes were still closed and his mouth curved for the pain. I run to the meds supply room. I got some bandages, stitches, needles, and the only IV left. I searched each drawer and cabinet to find some morphine. I had to find it to ease his pain, to kill his pain. My tears rolled down as the only thing I was looking for was not there. I went back to the ER.

He still lied motionless and the table. His eyelids closed but his mouths moved up and down, murmuring prayers. The two men had left to pick another casualty. I cleaned up his face, removing the dried blood from his face with a wet clean cloth. He winched at the touch. “I’m so sorry; it’s the best thing I could do.” I gave him the only painkiller left in the drawer. His breathing was calm by now. He opened his eyes and gave a crooked smile. He jerked for the pain he felt when he moved. My tears rolled down. They betrayed me.

“Thank you, sister. Don’t be sad. Life will end somehow. Nothing to regret. I wish I could take them down all. Spare none.” He whispered weakly. “Please help the others, there’s nothing you can do with me. I’ll wait my turn.” His eyes were serene. They held me paralyzed for minute or two. They were soft and tender as if he had found peace somewhere. He tried to smile again. He looked beautiful even in that half damaged face. I caressed his hands and turned around. I was about to leave when I’ve heard his weak voice trembled whispering.

“Please, if you meet my brother, Hasan, tell him I am not in pain.”

I nodded in tears and walked away. I helped Ahmed with his patients. We worked in silence. Each hid the pain inside, carefully shoveled it and locked it in vacant room of our hearts. So many rooms we have inside the heart. Mostly, they were occupied with pain, sorrows, and agony. We began to accustom with this ever since we born in this massive prison. We blocked the pain away. We had to endure to save others.

I’ve heard more bombings outside. They were so close. More patients were admitted. We had to work fast with limited meds. Sometimes, a surgery was made without an anesthetic or any other sedative drugs. We run out of IV. It was a despair situation but we had to keep up working. We had to carefully choose who had better chance to be saved. I’ve heard more blast. The floor where I stood shake in tremor. The electricity dead and debris were swept up the room. I saw a crimson blast heading towards us. I could feel the heat and the smell of deaths.

“We were hit.” I’ve heard Jamal shouted. “F***, they hit the hospital. Take cover.”

I ducked on the floor. Both hands covered up my head. I’ve heard windowpanes broke and glasses spattered mercilessly around. The wall cracked and slit open in some parts. People screamed and cried. Some debris fell on us. I was thrown a few away, stop only when my body hit the intact wall. I felt pain on spreading through my body. I felt something wet dripping from my head. It took me moment to realize that I had cut my head with the shattered glasses. Instinctively, I pressed the wound. I took a glance at the young boy at the northern corner. He was still motionless. He was covered by debris now. I stood up and run for him but something hit me at the head. I felt pain surging through my body. Suddenly everything went black.

***

“Mum, why do they hate us so much?” I cringed at this question. I looked at her and stroke her long black hair. I pulled the shabby blanket up to her body. It was the only proper blanket we had in this small room. She still waited my answer. I worked hard on it. Dear Lord, how would I explain such complicate things to her… if only things were simple, I could only say “well, sweetheart, they are bad people." But it was not this simple. I had to find the best answer to these questions, carefully not to grow more hatred.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Think only good things.” I kissed her softly at her forehead. “Sweet dreams!” I crawled at her side and cuddled her in my arms. The bed was too small for two persons but it was all that was left. I put off the light. I could not sleep and hoped she would slumber soon.

“Do you hate them, Mum?” She asked again and caught me by surprise. I thought she had slept.

“I don’t know, Sweetie. It’s hard to tell. I should have hated them for what they’ve done to our people. “I paused for a moment. Hesitant to go further but in the dark I could sense her gazing at me, waiting for more.

“But what’s the point of hating them back. It’s what they did that I despised. I hated their wrongdoings but not the people. Hate is a poison in life. You must not grow hate in you. You’re too precious for such evil.” I continued. I cursed myself for having said confusing sentences to her. Somehow, I knew she understood what I meant. Children were innocent souls that often reacted more justly. They were still so pure and evils could not reach them yet.

“But what if they keep hurting us, Mum? Do we have to stay silent and love them so they will not hate us anymore?” She pried again.

“Then we are allowed to defend. We are no longer responsible of the choices they make. We can not love them but we must hate them. It will only make them winning the game.” I shocked at what I’m saying. I’ve never talked like that before. Not even with my Husein when we started our discussion between right and wrong, my people and the vultures.

I turned on the light. She threw her gaze at me. I thought I saw her blinking but not in confusion. She buried her face at my breast and I caressed her smooth raven hair. “You’re the one that keeps me away from the hate. Now, it’s late. Tomorrow you have school. You don’t want to be late, do you?” I commanded.

“Ok, night, Mum. I love you so much!” she closed her eyes.
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Love you too.!”

I turned off the light and tried to get some sleep. I could not sleep though. My mind was still raking up with her questions. I sighed. It’s not fair that a child of her age should discuss about love and hate instead of about games, dolls, and any other children affairs. Sometimes, I wondered whether she was matured to fast. I could not blame this for living in wide invisible prison like we were, our children tended to grow fast. Their age could betray the mind behind them.


I reached out under the bed. I held the wrapped box. It was a surprise gift for her birthday. I was fortunate that today Ahmed had kept his promise. From his friend who lived in Egypt, he got the doll I’ve wanted for my Amira. She never had any doll before. She merely only played with neighboring children. It freaked me out to see children playing with riffles and bombs. I must find something for my Amira, absolutely no life threatening games or stuff. So, I guessed any girl would like to play with dolls. Ahmed threw me a beautiful brand new doll this day. It was pretty doll with a headscarf. It was just look like my Amira. I had to work hard to wrap it with a gift paper. I’ve never done wrapping gifts and stuff like that. Our life was way from such luxury. I put it back under the bed. I heard her breathing calm and serene. She was fast asleep.


***

I was shivering heavily. My mind instructed me to stay calm but my physics denied it. I readjusted my headscarf carefully and tried not to look conspicuous. I stole a glance at my small shabby bag and relieved to find it perfectly secured. I walked past the street heading towards the Guard Post. I could see my people were standing in line to cross the border. Those vultures had a face of a stone and eyes like hungry vulture. Their weapons never left their side. Harshly, they made a check on every passer by. Often, they made a man lying flat on the ground and had them stay like that for a long moment. They toyed with these people, my people, like we were a piece of boring little doll.

My teeth clenched seeing those filthy soldiers played their game. I hated them more than words could say. My only reason to be sane, to keep loving had perished. They had taken my most precious. Now, there’s nothing to keep me from the hatred. All love had abandoned me. My life was meaningless now. There was only grief and pain so unbearable. I’ve traded my soul with the Satan… to get my revenge.

I saw her face soaked in thick red blood. Her once glimmering long raven black hair was damped in a pool of blood. Her limbs were tangled and maimed. But her smile never left the face. It was my worst nightmare. I wanted to scream but it was lost in my throat. My tears would not roll. There’s no more tears left in me. My anger turned into hatred, a hatred that was far beyond my life itself. A thick black hole of hate had filled my emptiness.

I wrapped her little once angelic body to mine. Blood was dripping all over… my blood and her blood…and the blood of my people. I kissed her face over and over again. I walked limply to nowhere. My home had been torn into pieces. My only reason to live was taken brutally on the night before the closing year ended. There were no frenzy parties with firecrackers piercing towards the skies. There were no songs of happiness on the night of her birthday but everlasting blasts of missiles and bombs. Death was the gift for her birthday…deaths were the gifts for my people on the New Year’s Eve. I hollered as loud as my force let me. I should get my vengeance.

Beads of sweat rolled on my face. I swiftly wiped them clean. I was too close to fail. I must not fear. I looked at my shabby back at my left hand, and then I squeezed the doll with headscarf on my left. I paused for a moment…to find the strength… I walked again. No haste this time for the building was right in front of me…just a few metres a way…a building where those vultures grouped and interacted. I heard them celebrating with such joys. It’s so contrast with what took place at my districts. All people were buried in sorrows over the lost of their loved ones while in this building there was nothing but joys and laughter. I hated them.

I felt a spasm of pain on my head. My wound opened up again but I was too overwhelmed to feel the pain. I saw my Amira waited for me there. Only, she was not smiling this time. I saw her eyes were so sad as she watched edged close to the building. I closed my eyes to wipe the image away. It’s hard to bear seeing her despairing eyes.

I was in the building now. It was a miracle how I got inside without suffering much humiliation for an inspection. The vultures seemed at great ease today. I carefully examined the device inside my bag. I could feel a cold fwire wrapped around the devise. All i had to do push the button at the right place and at the right time. Tears bubbled on my weary eyes. My heart ached as if it burst out heard and loud. My breath choked me. I must not draw back. There was no turning back. I saw the vultures all around me...ready to torture me with their masked smile.

“Forgive me my dear Amira. I am not strong enough to love.” I whispered softly. I pushed the button and everything went black.