"Yesterday, a child came into this world, and the world rejected her"
It has been 74 days since Israel started blocking all supplies from entering Gaza. Supplies mean food. Potable water. Band aids and stitches. Anesthetics. Building equipment. Fuel. Everything needed for life to exist.
I have heard it said that the only things allowed to enter Gaza are bombs and bullets.
I think back to the first days of the pandemic—the panic I felt at the mere thought of bare shelves. I don’t even need to think that far back. I can remember a headline about American ports emptying out because of the Trump tariffs, and the bile that rose in my throat.
I used to have so many words about Gaza. Maybe I thought that people didn’t know. Maybe I thought I was doing something to help people see the truth. Now, I see a starving child, a dead child, an orphaned child, and I am wordless.
Siege. Starvation. Genocide. You repeat words again and again and they lose all meaning.
What is there left to say?
I am grateful that Dr. Ezzideen Shehab, 28 years old, living through the genocide and doing his utmost to help every person he can reach, can still find his words.
I am grateful that
read these words aloud so I could come across them on my social media.Today, I cannot think of anything more important than sharing these words.
Thank you for writing this from your heart.
Thank you for your voice, Noha. There really are no words. But every time you manage to find them anyway, you inspire others to keep looking with you. At least I know that's the case for me. And I think narrative is what will finally break through and bring justice. I just wish words were more immediate and could shield and protect these children (and the women AND men.) I don't understand this world.