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href="https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza">https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza</a></font>
<h1 id="reader-title">Heavenly Gaza</h1>
<div id="reader-credits" class="credits">Omnia Ghassan - August
9, 2017<br>
<div style="position: absolute; left: -99999px;">August 9,
2017- See more at:
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza">https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza</a></div>
<div style="position: absolute; left: -99999px;">August 9,
2017- See more at:
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_GazaAugust">https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_GazaAugust</a></div>
<div style="position: absolute; left: -99999px;">August 9,
2017- See more at:
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza">https://wearenotnumbers.org/home/Story/Heavenly_Gaza</a></div>
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<p>Sometimes when I feel hopeless about pursuing my dream
of traveling or having a proper job, I ask myself: “Do I
regret living in Gaza?”</p>
<p>Many Gazans, if not all, ask themselves this question.
We are so desperate for employment and a dignified life
and Gaza, the largest jail on earth, keeps us from the
outside world. It’s hard not to feel like Gaza is hell.
But unlike most Gazans, I was not born here; my family
chose to return when I was 17.</p>
<p><a
href="http://www.ps.undp.org/content/dam/papp/docs/Publications/UNDP-papp-research-PHDR2015Education.pdf">Ninety-six
percent</a> of Palestinians are literate, but
unemployment in Gaza is the <a
href="http://www.palestinechronicle.com/unrwa-unemployment-gaza-highest-world/">highest
in the world</a>. About <a
href="http://www.worldbank.org/en/country/westbankandgaza/overview">42
percent</a> of the 2 million Gazans don’t have
jobs—and the number of out-of-work youth is an estimated
60 percent. Many students who obtain scholarships to
study abroad are not able to leave because the Israeli
government refuses to give them a permit to leave, while
Egypt keeps its crossing closed. Two friends recently
lost their scholarships because of this. I recently won
a short story competition organized by the Cultural
Association in Matera, Italy, in collaboration with the
Palestinian Embassy, and am supposed to travel to Italy
in September. But it is unclear whether Israeli
authorities will approve the trip. How I would hate to
lose the chance to visit the homeland of pizza and
pasta!</p>
<p>But at the same time, there are things about Gaza that
should be appreciated—as only a “newcomer” might
realize. As someone who has lived both in and out of
Gaza, I feel qualified to tell you about them.</p>
<h2><strong>A different childhood</strong></h2>
<p>I lived in the UAE until I was 17 because my father
found a job there. I felt alone there. Our relatives
were all in Gaza, and our neighborhood was in a border
area, with few Arabs. It was full of Indian families,
and I couldn’t communicate with their children because I
wasn’t yet fluent in English. Those who did speak Arabic
were older; while they were friends of my family, I
couldn’t play with them because of the age difference.
My sister is also seven years older, so the two of us
had the same problem. I had imaginary friends and even
mastered speaking to mirrors.</p>
<p>However, if you want to live a memorable, social
childhood, live in Gaza. Every morning I wake to the
voices of kids crowding the street in front of my house.
They turn the street into a field for football or a
track for bike racing. During Eid [one of the major
Muslim holidays], men in each neighborhood give young
people and women money as a gift, called <em>Eideyya</em>.
Kids 10 years and under knock on neighbors’ and
relatives’ doors and get money! It’s kind of like
Halloween, but without costumes. I enjoy watching the
children carrying small bags as they go door to door. I
never got to experience that and I regret it.</p>
<p>Although children in Gaza experience these warm,
playful rituals, they also are incredibly responsible
and independent. They are allowed to leave their houses
without their parents at a young age and even go to
school by themselves. When I was growing up in the UAE,
I rode a bus to school and I never went places without
my parents. It is Gaza that has taught me how to be
independent. When I first arrived and understood I’d
need to take taxis by myself, I was nervous and asked
for a personal chauffeur. Of course, that didn’t happen
– and now I ride in taxis so much all the drivers in my
area know me!</p>
<h2><strong>The color black</strong></h2>
<p>At some point in our lives, we fear darkness. When I
was a child, I could never sleep without a glimpse of
light. When the lights turned off, I would feel as if I
was turning into a statue. I’d scream, run to my mother
or start crying. That is, until three years ago, when
Israel attacked Gaza 10 months after I moved here.</p>
<p>Israel’s violence sparks many fears in Gazans. Yet it
also has spurred us to overcome some of them. In the
2014 war, Gaza suffered a massive electricity shortage,
with the lights rarely coming on. We basically lived in
candlelight, moonlight or complete darkness. It was
during this period that I realized it was time for me to
embrace my fear of darkness. Now, when my sister pranks
me by turning off the lights, I’m like, “Seriously?!”</p>
<p>Today, Gazans are still in darkness. The electricity
cuts are worse than they’ve ever been. Power only comes
on for four hours a day at most. But even with this, and
with Israel’s blockade, three wars – and maybe more to
come – and unemployment, we desire to live. As the
Palestinian-Canadian poet Rafeef Ziadah <a
href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wad5h5K38ms">said,</a>
“We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest
of the world life!” Regardless of the continuous crises
we live through, we know how to find a bit of light in
the darkest of tunnels.</p>
<p>Yet Gazans themselves often do not appreciate their
home. Although this is understandable, Gaza deserves to
be loved. It may not be the perfect place to live, but
its imperfections are what make it perfect – at least to
me.</p>
<p>I even wish I’d come home to Gaza earlier than I did.</p>
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