Mohammed Al-Zaqzooq

Mahmoud Alshaer

This is a collection written by 30 people of Gaza, while enduring war, still in Gaza-- a physical manifestation of chronicling history as it happens As the year 2023 came to an end, and wistfulness filled the air with hopes for the new tidings; the whole world was left startled with the unfolding of the largest humanitarian crisis of this century. While we lamented at the visuals of unimaginable destruction, loss, and unsurmountable pain, there were people living that reality. Men, women, and children with plans for the weekend and dreams to fulfill; many wrapping their chores early to take a walk by the sea. Millions of such diverse individuals who were now only spoken of words wrapped in tragedy; all merged into one. Surviving war isn't a blanket experience; there are many facets which remain unheard. This collection is pertinent in bringing focus to the diverse human stories behind the crisis, the emotions that rang loudly in the silence of the night, when the shutters went down and the dust had settled. ​Throughout the year, 30 people living in the Gaza strip, of varied ages and ethnographies, penned their feelings, fears, memories, thoughts, and hopes on the tempestuous days of war. Each story is a reminder of the world held within every person and how humanity at large was at stake with them. Collected and compiled by Mahmoud and Mohammed, two prolific writers in Gaza, this collection stands as a testament to unparalleled resilience and unveils the unimaginable emotional scars of war; leaving us overcome with tenderness and compassion.

A Collection by the People; Unveiling Their Stories and Emotions from the Year That Has Been

Letters from Gaza

Asmae

He swiftly pulled out two bags: one for some clothes and the other for some books and mementos. In every displacement, we carry the most important things. Or so we think. But we forget our souls at home.

While the world sleeps, the people of Gaza face a treacherous occupier and grapple with the mighty question: How alone are we?

He was a friend when you were in need, a friend who knew how to comfort a tired heart until jasmine bloomed around it

 And like all other Gazans who've lived through this grim year, a year in which they've lost everything: their homes, their families, their neighbourhoods, their neighbours, their streets, their sea, the city's coffee shops, its nighttime and its daytime, its laughter and its shouts, the loud bustle of its holidays and wedding celebrations, its ups and downs, my eyes haven't teared up once. My heart's dried up and hardened. I want to wring my eyes until the tears come gushing out and bury me in a watery grave because I've lost my Gaza forever, and I weep for her alone. 

Letters from Gaza quotes

Join the club