My family’s dreams for the new year in the context of the Gaza genocide
As my family huddled around a fire to protect themselves from Gaza’s freezing cold, we all shared our hopes for the new year. While each of us has our own wishes, one thing is clear: none of us can endure another year like this.
By Esraa Abo Qamar, December 30, 2024
A few days ago, on one of those cold December nights, my family and I decided to light a fire to warm ourselves, since there has been no electricity to turn on the heating in Gaza, and this for over a year. We gathered around, made the pot of tea and took out the last crumbs of bread to eat, huddled around the fire. This moment was an occasion for intense conversations, our main concern being whether a truce could finally be concluded. Would the new US administration support Gaza and take steps to end the war? Could this nightmare end before the new year, giving us a chance for a fresh start without further bloodshed?
I took a few moments to escape reality and let my imagination wander. I imagined a night where I could sleep peacefully, free from the constant noise of Israeli drones and the terror of waking up to artillery shells exploding nearby. I would no longer have to live in constant fear of losing my father or my brothers when they go to the mosque or the market. I will finally find peace, even if it may be too late. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boiling water. I poured six cups of tea and added sugar, even though I don’t usually prefer it. As my father always says: “Isn’t the bitterness of life enough for us? Do we really need to drink bitter tea? »
As we sipped the hot black tea, I asked them, “If a ceasefire happens, what will you do?” What are your plans for a bloodless new year? » My 11-year-old sister responded enthusiastically, “I want to go to school and meet my friends.” I want to find my teachers and go back to my class.”
My sister’s aspirations for next year match what the Ministry of Education announced: the education system will resume in January 2025. However, students will have to continue their studies online rather than in person, as they We all hope and wish it, due to the significant destruction of educational establishments. Other schools are filled with displaced families who lost their homes or were forcibly evicted, and who sought refuge in a safe place. These schools, which were once centers of learning, have become refuges for those with nowhere to go, delaying the hopes of students to return to their classrooms and normal lives.
My brother Hassan, who is now 18, has always dreamed from a young age of traveling abroad to study engineering and explore the world. His dreams and ambitions now depend entirely on the opening of the border post. In 2025, Hassan hopes to continue his studies abroad and ensure that he does not lose another year.
Despite the harsh reality we face, Hassan’s determination remains unwavering. He often says that education is the key to rebuilding not only our lives, but also our country. His words inspire me to remain hopeful, even when hope seems like a distant luxury.
Sitting around the fire, each of us shared our dreams for the year ahead, as small as they may seem to the outside world, but monumental to us. As for my parents, their dreams were simple but deeply moving. My mother said she only wished she could cook us a delicious meal, watch us eat until we were full, and watch the joy on our faces as we savored every bite. My father agreed, adding, “I dream of a year when no one in this family has to go to sleep hungry.”
During the war, it became incredibly difficult to obtain food. Shortages, skyrocketing prices, and the dangers of venturing outside for basic necessities have made finding a meal a daily struggle. There have been countless nights where we went to bed hungry, the emptiness in our stomachs a cruel reminder of the hardships we endured.
On the other hand, other burdens and broken dreams weigh heavily on our hearts. My grandmother, for example, left her house in Rafah more than seven months ago. His only wish is to return to his house, even if it is in ruins, just to feel the familiarity of his own space again. But her deepest desire is to find her daughters – my aunts – under one roof. Throughout the war, they were scattered, each of them moved to different locations, unable to reunite. My grandmother dreams of hearing their laughter echo through the house again, of seeing them gathered around her, sharing stories and bringing life back to what was their home.
Amidst all the dreams and aspirations I heard from my family, I found myself thinking about what I wish for in the new year. There are so many projects and goals I was hoping to accomplish in 2024, but they have all been postponed. I dream of returning to my university – or even its ruins – just to rediscover, even just a little, the pleasure of university life. I dream of walking the streets of Gaza with my friends, like I did before. I had started learning to drive and also wanted to get my driver’s license. Even though there aren’t many untouched streets left, this is also what I dream of. But perhaps more than anything else, what I want now is simply safety! Living my life peacefully and calmly with my family, free from constant fear. I want all of my little family’s hopes to come true, and I hope we don’t endure another year like this.
Esraa Abo Qamar is an English literature student and writer from Gaza.
Translation: JB for the
Source: Mondoweiss
