We Are Not Numbers x MuslimMatters – Ramadan While Under Attack In Gaza

by Israa Mohammed Jamal

We may have lost faith in governments, but we haven’t lost faith in Allah.

A “Warning”

When my son came back from the Taymya mosque, he was puffing and could hardly breathe. “The Israelis said they are going to target near the mosque now,” Mahmoud said. “They ordered us to evacuate the area!”

“Where is your father and the others?” I asked. Mahmoud hid his face in his hands and cried.

This was during the month of Ramadan, which is the month of saying prayers more than any other time of the year. Ramadan makes us feel closer to Allah , as we put all our efforts into worshiping him, and in return, we ask for Allah’s Blessings and Support. This month is always very important for us because it is the month which has Laylat al-Qadr – the Night of Power –: the night when Allah first sent the Quran down from heaven and revealed the first verses to the Prophet Muhammad .

It was during the Maghrib prayers when my son went to the mosque with my husband, Mohammed, and his cousin. I was preparing Iftar – the evening meal – for when they would return. Only five minutes after they had left, my son ran back into the house crying. “I was sitting by the door and talking with my friend when the man came and told us to leave,” said Mahmoud. “I rushed back to the house so quickly and forgot that I had left Baba there.” 

Even though I was terrified something had happened to Mahmoud, I wanted to calm him down. “Don’t worry,” I said. “He is coming back, just calm down.” Mahmoud went to wash his face and I went to the door to wait for Mohammed.

In what felt like an eternity, but was only a few minutes, Mohammed appeared. “Your father is back! He is okay!” I shouted back into the house. Mahmoud and his father discussed what had happened and embraced each other with relief.  

As we gathered around the food, we all tried to calm down, but our hearts were still pounding.  

Not long after finishing Iftar and saying our prayers, the Israelis targeted the area near the mosque with two rockets. 

We were terrified. We couldn’t do anything except pray to Allah to protect us. 

Normally, during Ramadan, whether in the morning or at night, we would walk the streets together listening to the songs of Eid, enjoying the decorations strung up everywhere. We would then go to the mosque for Taraweeh prayers. 

But this year we couldn’t enjoy the streets, we couldn’t enjoy the songs, we couldn’t even enjoy the prayers. We couldn’t even feel the significance of this month while others were dying from cold, hunger, or Israeli rockets. 

This is what just some of our days were like during this year’s Ramadan. 

In Search of Cure

On one day, I had a severe stomach ache. I couldn’t eat or drink or even comply with fasting. I had to go and see a doctor. 

In a playground nearby, the Red Crescent set up a field clinic because there are no hospitals in Rafah; only two small centers for pregnant women and for basic first aid. 

While I was walking to the hospital there was a man shouting “Please help! My children are hungry. I came out of northern Gaza four days ago and I can’t feed my children!” Another man went to him, asked him his name, and tried to calm him down. It’s powerful to see that we can still support each other even though we are all suffering so much. 

While sitting in the medical clinic queue, clutching my stomach, an old woman started talking to me. Part of her face was caved in, and it was hard to understand her. “What happened to you?” I asked. 

“I’m from Khan Younis. We were inside Nasser Hospital when a bullet from an Israeli sniper hit my face. It went in under my ear and went out from here,” she said pointing to her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” I replied. “May Allah help you. How can you eat?” 

“Through this tube,” she said, pointing to something attached to her face. Then, my name was called and I left the woman with the hole in her face in the queue.

I explained to the doctor what I was feeling and how I had never experienced anything like this before. He told me that it could be because of the poor-quality water or food that we are all consuming. He couldn’t help me, as the clinic was just for wounds. He told me I needed to see a specialist and get medicine, which they didn’t have there. 

“Where can I go to get the medicine?” I asked. 

“I have no idea,” he replied. 

His answer made me want to cry. Now I knew the problem but couldn’t get any help. Just last year, a close friend of mine, Rana, died from stomach cancer, which the doctors discovered too late. I worried that something like this would also happen to me.

In Gaza: Still Thankful to Be Alive

To help me feel a little better, I decided to visit my siblings nearby. They could support me and lift my mood. While I walked to their house I was shocked to see the huge numbers of tents constructed in the area. There was rubbish, polluted water, and waste everywhere. There were no decorations and no songs welcoming Ramadan; no smiling faces greeting each other, saying “Ramadan Mubarak”, “Ramadan Kareem” or “Ramadan Sa’id” this Ramadan. Just unfamiliar faces in the crowds, internally displaced people from all over Gaza, trying to survive. 

Everywhere, children were asking for money. Men and women were sticking notices on shop walls looking for missing children. And in the background was the constant sound of rockets and warplanes.

When I arrived at my brother’s house, my nephews ran up to me and hugged me so tightly. We hadn’t seen each other since the war started. 

The house they were in was full of our relatives who had fled from Gaza City. There were about twenty of them all together. Some were trying to fix the network connection and other things that had been destroyed in missile strikes near the house. 

One of my cousins told me that this was the first time they had spent Ramadan without their mother. They were miserable.

We all spoke about how we couldn’t see this war ending, how we had nothing to look forward to, and how we didn’t know how to get through the days. but despite this, we continue to support each other and those around us. Every day we tried to enjoy Ramadan, prepare for Iftar, come together, and be thankful that we were still alive. 

I managed to find another clinic that had the medicine I needed for my stomach ache, and I feel a bit better now. 

Ramadan is now over, but we still believe that Allah will help us. We may have lost our faith in the governments and the people in power all around the world, but we haven’t lost faith in Allah . There is still hope. 

***

Life is unbearable in Gaza. Israel is threatening to attack Rafah, and it’s hard to imagine a future in Gaza anymore. Israa has created a fundraising campaign to raise money for her cousin who lost her mother, husband, sister, and four children in Israeli airstrikes. Please consider donating here.

Related:

– We Are Not Numbers x MuslimMatters – Ramadan In The Time Of Genocide

– We Are Not Numbers x MuslimMatters – Faith Is Our Way Of Resistance