by ASEM ALNABIH
Here in Gaza, every loaf of bread – when one can be found – has a special taste. A sip of water, when available, has a unique flavor. A meal, no matter how meager, carries a distinct sense of satisfaction. And even amidst the bombing, there is a strange sense of peace found in sleep. Even fear, loss, sadness and hunger awaken oneself to appreciate hidden joys, a reminder of the essence of our humanity, far from the endless chase for luxury that knows no finish line.
My 5-year-old niece, Lana, seemed unusually cheerful, as if expecting something special. Curious, I asked, “Why are you so happy, Lana?” With a wide smile on her face, she replied, “I’m hungry, and I want to eat basil,” as if it were a party snack. The remark struck me. How could such desperation and happiness coexist?
It then dawned on me that children are truly resilient. They are among the hardest hit by the deprivation and harshness of war yet are usually the first to forgive, brush off the hardships, and get on with life.
Given the severe food shortages here in Gaza’s north, I consider myself incredibly lucky as occasionally we get to eat sandwiches of basil leaves mixed with oil and salt as a meal. My family created this type of sandwich, something we never ate before the war, given the scarcity of vegetables. Others are nowhere near this fortunate.
As Lana took a bite to eat, I noticed how she ate as slowly as she could, hoping the meal would last as long as possible. The other trick we Gazans have come to appreciate is to chew as slowly as we can for as long as possible so as to extend the time spent over a meal. Grateful for being able to eat but sad there isn’t more to go around, every bite we take is wrapped in delight and sadness in equal proportion.
As the sandwich shrank with every bite taken, Lana tried not to look. Instead, she imagined she was having her fill.
“I miss Baba”
Lana had lost her father a few weeks earlier. Moataz Rajab, a 37-year-old postgraduate in economics, is fondly remembered in the family as a very loving husband and father of four very young children, including a 1-year-old baby that will never get to know his father. Lana, terrified by the aerial bombings, tank shells and loud explosions, has yet to fully grasp the reality of her father’s absence. She sometimes says the gut-piercing words “Mama, I’m sad. I miss Baba,” as if he is at work and late coming home.
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