Afrasianet - Yousri Al Ghoul - Elections will come and go at the expense of our blood and pain, in which the blood of the Palestinian is the fertile material for any victory, and the more a candidate declares his Zionism, the closer he is to winning any election there, but we calculated that injustice will not last.
That day, I returned from Jabalia refugee camp to the beach camp on foot, with my male sons, while my wife and daughter remained stuck there, after they failed to cross Al-Jalaa Street, which separates two deaths, as the occupation was shooting at the masses of displaced people returning to the west of Gaza City.
So we said goodbye to each other by pointing and crying, while some people remained lying on the ground, and they were shot by snipers, specifically at the Saraya junction.
During that period, hunger was devouring the bodies, and we could no longer find animal food to eat, and there were no trees to eat its leaves, so I dissolved from my social status and started risking my life for a can of beans or chickpeas, and with every story of searching for a piece of bread, a companion falls, and something of it remains stuck in my heart and soul, so the ghost of the martyr Hussein Abu Sharkh is still running among the rubble in front of me at the North Beach Camp Park, dragging the cart of the UNRWA sanitation workers over us Quad helicopters, to get food left by his family there, as the area became ruined, uninhabitable, while the wind blew the martyr Ahmed Al-Ashqar smiling when we found two cans of beans in a house where he settled, he gave me one and took the other for him and his father, where his entire family was displaced to the south, and he stayed in that area adjacent to the western mosque, passing through the rubble, looking for a tea pot and some strong pots in order to make food on the wood that was available at the time, and there were only dozens in the camp.
As for the extreme of denuffness, who visits me every once in a while in my dreams differently, I lived with him on difficult journeys in order to bring medicine, clothes, and food to the displaced people in the camp, after the place became crowded with returnees from Shujaiya and Jabalya, who refused to displace to the south.
I used to go with him in the morning to enter houses we didn't know, to look for a kilo of flour where the rats were enjoying, and clothes that rained down on them and were drowned in gunpowder and cement, and gray became the common denominator of all things. Once we entered a completely destroyed building, through a large hole in the wall, even though the street opposite the place is full of tanks, specifically Hamid Street, and he was bold in looking for medicines, while I ask him to hurry up because they might bomb us with an artillery shell, and we would not find anyone to help us Fayeq, may God have mercy on him, was absent with a number of young men later, on the last day of the recent incursion of Al-Shifa Hospital, when the occupation expanded the range of fire, like a firewall in order to withdraw after the destruction of the hospital and the killing of a large number of doctors, patients and displaced people, a large number of whom were discovered in mass graves, in front of the silence of the world.
But the person I cannot forget, who comes to me almost daily, is the martyr (Y), a young man known in the camp as a professional thief, as I went to him when I returned from Jabalia camp to ask him for flour, and he said that he did not have anything, and that day he said to me: "Come and see a roller with me, and my sustenance and your sustenance are on God."
Although I now live in a luxurious apartment in Switzerland, my mind travels there, how we went out with the first threads of dawn, we dated to meet at Faiq al-Danaf, close to the Western Mosque, then we headed to the Al-Nahhal area and from there, through narrow streets/bypass between the houses that are crowded inside the camp, we reached the wide space of the street, adjacent to the houses of Al-Judah, where (Y) told me about the place of the martyrdom of my cousin Ahmed, a food seeker like me, and I am afraid, and I tremble with fear, as the tank was not 10 meters away from us, and from inside some holes in the walls there we reached one of the houses, and we found flour and drinking water inside the house.
But as I searched inside that house, I had a bunch of questions: What if we were targeted there? Who would come to save us? What would people say about us if they returned home in a year, two, or 10? Would we find someone to bury our remains? Would rats, insects, stray dogs, and cats come to eat our meat?
I returned that day with flour while I was carrying a gallon of water (16 liters) and we ran away, while the artillery shells fell around us, until we entered an alley and from there to the Gharbi area, and his words that wounded me now ring in my ears: Don't be afraid, they know that we are going to eat, but the treacherous shells are truer news than words.
Before the IDPs returned from the south, a man I loved, one of the righteous people with whom we feel reverence, came to me and he knew about my relationship with the young man (Y), and then he told me that he saw in what he saw the sleeping Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and recommended the young man (Y). He asked me, "What is the connection between that thief and God?"
After the IDPs returned from the southern Gaza Strip, and our conditions improved a little, I went with his brother to ask for the hand of a girl whose parents were martyred, and I decided to give them a golden ring when they got married, but it seems that death was closer to the young man than anything else, as he once went to the settlement of Zikim to prepare food, and he did not return until this moment, and we still don't know anything about him, except that he went out and did not return.
I remembered all these stories and others, when I saw a video of one of the Zionist candidates for the Israeli Knesset preventing aid trucks from bringing food into the Gaza Strip, as a media material for the elections in which they compete to starve and kill the people of Palestine, and to destroy as many homes, villages and camps as possible, to understand that the Zionist society has indeed turned into an extremist society that does not care about the blood of innocents, as according to a recent Haaretz poll, the percentage of votes in favor of expelling the Palestinians exceeded 83% of the sample that was targeted.
Elections will come and go at the expense of our blood and pain, in which the blood of the Palestinian is the fertile material for any victory, and the more a candidate declares his Zionism, the closer he is to winning any election there, but we calculated that injustice will not last, as long as Palestinians and Arabs still believe in our right to regain our stolen land.
