When I was a pupil, every morning, we met in the school courtyard and songs dedicated to our land, Palestine. Many of our courses would teach us our culture and our traditions deeply rooted in Palestinian land.
Every March 30, we marked the Earth’s day. The girls wore embroidered dresses and boys would wear white shirts and Kffiyeh. We will sing under a raised Palestinian flag and commemorate the struggle of the Palestinian lands.
I fully achieved the true meaning of what I only learned about this struggle when I faced a trip from my home, when I faced the very real possibility of losing my land.
I was born and I grew up in the district of Shujayea on the eastern flank of Gaza City. It is a secular district, where farmers and traders have settled. Over time, it has become one of the most densely populated districts of Gaza, known for its solid community ties and its history of resistance. It was no coincidence that one of his most eminent people was Dr. Refaat Alareer, a poet, a scholar and my teacher in English, who inspired me to write and resist.
My family has lived in Shujayea for centuries. They built the house after the house in the same area until they create a long street known as Mushtaha Street. It is not only a name; It is a testimony of the depth of our roots in this earth.
We not only have our houses in Shujayea but also our agricultural land. I grew up playing on Olive Grove from my grandfather, whom he had inherited from his ancestors. The olive trees taught us to love our land and to be firm like them.
I never thought, even for a minute, to leave my house, my neighborhood. As a child, I never dreamed of living elsewhere, I wanted to stay where my ancestors had lived with pleasure, to inherit the earth, to take care of the olive trees.
The first time we had to flee our Shujayea was when Israel attacked in 2014. I was very young at the time, but I remember every moment of our evacuation. I remember the missiles and bursts of fleeting shells around and the sound of cries and crying. It was a traumatic experience, but all along, I was sure that we would come back soon.
Then it happened almost 10 years later. Throughout the genocide, my family and I had to flee our house more than 10 times. The longest we had to stay away from our neighborhood was three months. But we never went too far. Despite the extremely difficult conditions, we did not fled south; We stayed in the north.
Shujayea endured two invasions during this war, the first in December 2023, and the second in June 2024. The second came suddenly, without warning, a summer morning while the residents were still at home.
When the Israeli tanks have reached Shujayea, they targeted markets and old restaurants, electricity posts and water pumps, leveling many areas until they are unrecognizable. The former craft streets have become gray with destruction.
My family home was bombed and partially destroyed. The land of my grandfather was also not spared. The trees that were held for generations, which gave fruits of countless seasons, were uprooted and burned.
The loss of his Grove olive turned out to be too much for my grandfather. Within three months after hearing the news devastating, he died.
Today, we are faced with the prospect of being moved again. The people of the eastern part of Shujayea began to flee under the threats of the Israeli army. We don’t know what’s going to happen next. People are afraid but always hope that there will be another ceasefire.
This year, Marking Land Day has a different meaning: despite the continuous genocidal war, we are still there, we are still standing and we always hold the ground which we have inherited from our ancestors. We will not give up.
That day, I remember Dr. Alareer’s poem:
O, earth
Kiss me
And serve me hard
Or cook me
No longer suffer.
I love you
So take me.
Give me rich.
Make me dirt.
The time of serenity is over.
Weapons are the words of humanity.
I have no food but a thorn,
No sport but a sigh.
For a soldier, you have to feel high.
O, earth,
If in life I have to hurt
Let my dirt give you give birth.
O, earth.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune.