Like every day
I wake up at 6am. My wife’s father, a kind 70 year-old man, wakes up before me.
And the fire has been lit and the pot of tea and a kettle full of warm water are on the fire. Also a pot of water awaits me to place 3 eggs in it so they can continue cooking on the fire. 2 of the eggs are for my mother and one is for my dog, Buddy.
After washing and drinking a cup of cheap Nescafé, which I managed to get from a proper shop before it was emptied, it’s time for my mother. I change her diaper. I clear the bits of food which have fallen around her and I prepare an egg for her and a piece of bread, and cup of tea. Tea is readily available because it is part of the supplies from UNRWA which are sold in the market at reduced prices.
I feed my dog the third egg. I put on whatever clothes I can reach. I’m not bothered about what colour, or if my shirt is ironed. These are concerns we’ve given up on completely after 51 days.
I get ready to go out. My mother’s prayers follow me. The road is 2.5 kilometres to Nuseirat market from the house in Sawarha, an agricultural area between Nuseirat refugee camp and Al Zuwayda village on the sea. The house is 600 meters from the sea, more or less. But these days, it feels like China is nearer than the sea. When Israel launches its rockets towards the West, it points its tanks towards the beach or wherever suits them. The horizon of the sea is the only horizon available to the people of Gaza. In narrowed Gaza, there is no horizon only buildings and streets veiling the horizon, and some even veil the sky.