The Drone Eats with Me: A Gaza Diary

by Atef Abu Saif

So everyone carries their own memories of conflict: wars stand as markers in a Gazan’s life: there’s one planted firmly in your childhood, one or two more in your adolescence, and so on . . . they toll the passing of time as you grow older like rings in a tree trunk. Sadly, for many Gazans, one of these wars will also mark life’s end. Life is what we have in between these wars.

Every single human being in Gaza, whether walking on foot, riding a bicycle, steering a toktok, or driving a car, is a threat to Israel now. We’re all guilty until proven otherwise, and how are we ever going to do that, whether alive or not?

I know in my heart that I live by chance, and that when I die it too will be by chance. How many chances does the future have for you, stashed in its pocket? How many chances have I already used up?

Being a father brings with it a deep-seated instinct to protect, but also an assumption that you can protect. You are your children’s hero, their superman. You tell yourself you can outwit the planes, the tanks and the warships, to protect them. You can do anything for their sake.