Deir el-Balah, Gaza – Like a scene from a never-ending horror movie, new evacuation orders were issued Wednesday morning for residential areas of Deir el-Balah.
“Every day brings a new catastrophe,” we despaired as we studied the latest Israeli map, the lines of which now loomed dangerously close to our house.
The noise of the tanks grew louder and the crack of gunfire sounded closer and closer.
A question has haunted us, and all the people of Gaza, for more than 320 days of war. The question we ask the world without ever getting an answer:
“Where should we go?”
A question echoing in the void as people settled down again for the eighth, ninth, or tenth move.
“Where should we go?”
The question resonates in our minds and hearts, capturing all our anguish, loneliness, oppression and helplessness.
I have never felt more useless as a human being than I do today.
A simple Facebook post from an Israeli military spokesperson can turn our lives upside down in an instant.
A cruel game of squares
On Wednesday, I was putting the finishing touches on an article we were preparing, balancing work with the needs of my children and the pressures of travel.
Then came the news of the evacuations.
We were all in denial, wanting to believe it was just a rumor, but the reality came too quickly.
People began to flee into the streets under gunfire and shelling, scrambling to escape the attacks. The scene repeated itself, but this time it was the last stop: Deir el-Balah!
It was the same humanitarian zone they used to talk about, now marked for evacuation. It’s a cruel game of squares.
Have you ever felt like a toy, played with by the left and the right, the east and the west, pushed from one place to another – south of Khan Younis, out of Rafah, back to Khan Younis, then to Nuseirat, only to be pushed out again?
People are literally running through the streets like crazy, clutching what little they have left.
They have lost their homes, their loved ones and their livelihoods – and now they are on the verge of losing their minds.
We have nothing left; our hearts are broken and our minds are raw.
O Deir el-Balah, our last refuge, who can show the way to the people? As Tariq bin Ziyad once said: “The enemy is before us and the sea is behind us.”
Now we only have the sea left. Is there a boat?
Who will answer the cries of despair of those wandering the streets? People are taking refuge wherever they can: in the streets, in the fields, in rest areas, on the beach.
The earth is shrinking beneath our feet. We are being punished, crammed into a tiny bottleneck, bombarded and torn apart.
“Where should we go?”
I’m losing my mind as I conduct interviews and take notes, all the while looking for somewhere – anywhere – to go. Even a tent is no longer an option.
Crowds in the markets, crowds on the roads, and crowds of ideas. I feel like a spinning top, my concentration shattered by the impending tragedy of another evacuation, even though I try to resist the thought.
I look around at the few possessions I have managed to collect over the past 10 months: a stove, cups, plates, pots, winter clothes, summer clothes, mattresses, blankets, batteries, light bulbs, large bottles of drinking water, laundry tubs.
My God, where am I going to take all this?
H hour
The saddest thing is the fear of waiting for zero hour. Zero hour means fleeing with nothing but the clothes on your body, leaving everything behind.
If I leave everything, there is no way to replace it. There is no market, no supplies, no money to spend. I was frozen in place, unable to move.
Oh, I have work to do, articles to write.
I stare at my laptop, trying to concentrate.
A friend calls to ask for a single room with a bathroom. Another is looking for a tent. Someone else asks where the armoured vehicles are east of Deir el-Balah.
How can one write in such an atmosphere? It seems impossible.
A few minutes later, the news broke: Israeli forces were advancing into al-Qarara, west of Khan Younis, another supposed “safe zone,” and people were fleeing again.
What a terrible day. Some flee to the west, others to the east.
There is no end or beginning to this torment.
Nobody understands what is happening. We are running aimlessly, people are screaming, suffering and dying while the whole world is watching.
This is just the last episode of The Last Station.
My email has been flooded with empty statements from humanitarian and civilian organizations warning of an imminent invasion of Deir el-Balah. This is reminiscent of what happened in Rafah a few months ago. Israel ignored the warnings at the time and pushed everyone into Deir el-Balah. Now it is pursuing them to the final stage.
At such moments, I fully understand what we all feel – every displaced person, every woman, every man, every elderly person and every child. Fear, oppression, confusion, horror, ugliness. All this awaits us at the last stop: Deir el-Balah.
And the world? He watches curiously, wondering what will happen next.
How will Israel do it this time? Will the sea swallow us up? Will we be filtered through the barriers or eliminated by airstrikes?
To all viewers:
Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that the final scene is ready.
The latest show, Deir el-Balah, will soon be released to dazzle you with an exclusive and exciting presentation of crimes, massacres and displacement.
Our blood, our children, our lives, our bodies, our remaining homes – our last stand in Deir el-Balah – are on display.
Prepare your shame and silent complicity, and watch!
