by Joy from Ghazza
Perhaps in two or three months, I will turn twenty-three. I say “perhaps,” even though my birth date is certain, because I might reach that milestone embracing the beloved soil of my homeland.
Everyone asks about the dizziness, the nausea, the small red pustules on my face. Are they common symptoms of hunger, thirst, and siege? Or am I afflicted with a love for my homeland?
It would be truly dreadful to be diagnosed with this difficult disease.
Before October 7, 2023, I had foresight, dreams, and plans for my life, stretching to when I’d be twenty-six. I imagined myself in a small apartment on Al-Rasheed Street, overlooking the Gaza sea. In the furthest corner of my apartment, on my fabric armchair draped with a Palestinian kuffiyeh, I’d sit listening to Frank Sinatra, knitting a lovely wool sweater. Around my feet, my little cat would play.
Oh, how proud I felt every time I saw her!
She was pregnant with her first litter, about to give birth. I’d even knitted a beautiful bed cover for her and her tiny kitten.
I never thought of renting an apartment on the shores of the Maldives or any other angelic spot, only Gaza.
Perhaps it was habit, or perhaps I truly suffer from the disease of loving my homeland.
In that very same place—Gaza—a year and a half into the war and genocide (and I will challenge anyone who doesn’t call it genocide, ready for debates that last 72 continuous hours to prove it with all evidence), so let me continue my narrative without obscuring the crimes committed against my people—I sit in a place utterly unlike my childhood home or my dream apartment.
Tiny insects suck my blood, and the dust of bombing is everywhere.
I cry, but my voice cannot escape.
My throat, my mind—everything is numb except for my right hand, which writes to you the essence and fire of what has burned me.
I return to my initial question:
Am I afflicted with this disease of loving my homeland?
This ailment that has made me endure the bitterness of five wars in my lifetime in this land?
This disease that made me lose my aunt, her children, her grandchildren, and my uncle — all beneath the soil?
This disease that, at its loudest, forces me to eat sand due to food scarcity and breathe dust, and for which I find no cure but to depart, far, far away.
Support Joy’s survival and evacuation from Gaza at tinyurl.com/evacuate-joy.
https://linktr.ee/joyfromghazza
About the Author
My name is Farah, and my nickname is “Joy.” I’m a 22-year-old writer from Gaza, currently studying English Literature at the Islamic University of Gaza, which has sadly been bombed. I’ve lived most of my life through war, enduring five conflicts that have stolen my right to live in safety, peace, and love.
I write stories, reflections, and poems. Since I was young, I’ve been passionate about poetry and literature, and I also enjoy simple crochet, which helps me distract myself from the tragedies I experience. Recently, I started my biggest project yet: writing a book documenting everything I’ve lived through during the ongoing genocide, which has now lasted over a year and a half.
I currently live with my mother and four siblings in a shelter, seeking refuge from the constant threat of death due to the violent airstrikes shaking the ground around me. I am my mother’s eldest daughter, her close friend, and her supporter (just as she supports me); together, we decided to launch our chuffed campaign to raise funds for our basic needs during this brutal war that’s ravaging our weary bodies. My father hasn’t been with us since we were young; we’ve always been under our mother’s care. I’ve lost my beautiful, warm home. I’ve been displaced to over 17 different shelters and locations, each one worse than the last due to the lack of any safe place to go. We face countless struggles, most notably the starvation we endure as part of the siege and strangulation, designed to create a complete cycle of Nazi-like genocide against us.
With all the love and longing in my heart, I aspire to pursue a Master’s degree in Translation and Intercultural Communication. It is my ambition, my goal, and my dream—one I am determined to fulfill, with unwavering passion and hope.
Not even the harshest of circumstances could stop me from walking steadily toward my dream. Neither the absence of safety, nor the brutality of bombardment, nor the heaviness of war has ever planted despair in my heart.
Thank you for your continuous generosity in supporting me to deliver my message to the world.
With deepest respect and hope,
Support Joy’s survival and evacuation from Gaza at tinyurl.com/evacuate-joy.
