Haifa Adwan
Suhoor was supposed to be in Gaza, like any other city in the world, a moment of knife and a willingness for a new day of fasting, but on the morning of the eighteenth of Ramadan, the scene was completely different.
The call to prayer alone was not the one who shouted around the Strip, but was preceded by the buzz of planes and the sounds of explosions, to announce the occupation about its bloody return to a scene that was never absent from the Palestinian memory, and if its severity was slightly eased under the weight of a truce, the least that could be described as “fragile”, and it was only a short break before a new round of violence.
On the morning of the eighteenth day of Ramadan; The occupation did not need new justifications to return to the war of extermination of everything in Gaza. The American green light was sufficient to restore the same scenario; Rockets tear the remaining homes of newly returning displaced people to the ruins of their homes, bombs targeting residential gatherings, and bullets penetrate everything, including the most sacred moments in this holy month, entire families, with their children, women and elders, were wiped out of the records, while the survivors are searching among the rubble for the rest of a life that was stolen from them.
No one in Gaza thought that the truce would last long, but at least gave the displaced people an opportunity to return to the rest of their homes, and the prisoners also gave a little dream of freedom, and the patients of the shipment of medicine were very late.
The truce of the war in Gaza was only a truce of the minimum borders, it was managed by the equations of international interests more than it took into account the right of the Palestinians to life, and when the war machine decided to return, there was no objection, neither from Washington, nor from other decision capitals that are satisfied, at best, with faded statements that recount the broken cylinder on “deep anxiety” and “the call for self -control” The titles that turned over time into a substance to ridicule in the shadow of the existing bodies.
Ramadan in Gaza is not like any Ramadan; There is no talk about the crowding of markets with buyers, collective breakfast rituals, or even preparation for Eid clothes and gifts, but rather about trying to survive.
In Gaza, the mosques are not lit by the adornment of the holy month, and the voices of the readers in Tarawih prayers are not lit. Rather, the sky glows with the flame coming from the warplanes, so that the suhoor becomes a common date with death, not with food.
While Gaza counts its martyrs, the question remains suspended; How many blood should be shed until the world realizes that the Palestinians are not just numbers in news reports? How many massacres should be committed before the shameful silence is broken?
In Gaza, the answer always comes with the cheers of the victims, and with homes that are destroyed over their residents, and with children who have not been written the opportunity to grow up.
