” I hope this foolish war ends soon, so we can return, rebuild our homes again, and restore the beauty to our lives just as it once was… if not even more beautiful.”

ALL CREDIT GOES TO SHAHAD. ALL WORDS ARE HER OWN. THIS IS HER STORY!

My plan was to leave Gaza in search of survival to escape and preserve my life. But the closure of the crossings changed everything, forcing me to reconsider my choices deeply. That’s when I realized that I couldn’t abandon my homeland, couldn’t turn my back on it and leave it behind. In fact, I once wrote an article about that titled: “I Will Not Say Goodbye to This Land.” Anyway… I thought long and hard… And I came to understand that my life is not more precious than the lives of those children the children of my devastated city, who fall apart into pieces before my eyes every single day.

So instead of leaving, I chose to stay. To offer whatever I can within my field of work, alongside my eldest brother an art education teacher in an effort to ease the pain we live with in Gaza, especially the suffering endured by persecuted children. I found that I’m able even with simple means to draw a few smiles on their faces, through sports and artistic recreational activities that offer them a small window of escape from their pain, and give us all a moment to breathe amid all this rubble.

Today marked our third activity. We regularly dedicate an entire week to the children, giving them the space to express themselves freely, to release what has built up in their small chests from the constant pressure of fear, hunger, bombings, and relentless death. We begin with light physical exercises that’s my role now. We play energetically, shout together at the top of our lungs, sing national songs, and then move on to art sessions and handicrafts of all kinds that’s now my brother’s part. Believe me… the joy I feel in those moments is indescribable. It’s not just the children who enjoy it I, too, feel overwhelming happiness. Umm I don’t know.. maybe there’s still a child inside me struggling to survive, and this war has stripped us of our childhoods, adding years to our age, and tons of grief to our hearts. Here are the details of this beautiful day, written in the article I prepared this afternoon. And tomorrow InshaAllah will be even better.

90% of these children had their homes bombed by the Israeli occupation. They were deprived of their rooms, their beds, their toys, their school bags, notebooks, and colors… of the painted walls, the pictures, and the memories. They were stripped of the simplest thing that gives a person a sense of safety a shelter. Today, my brother Yasser (an art teacher) organized an activity for the neighborhood children and the displaced kids who had taken refuge on Abu Arif Street in Dair al Balah.

As usual, the children and I begin our activities with the most joyful physical exercises, small games, and fun competitions. We run and play with all our energy, shout together, and sing national songs with enthusiasm. We celebrate and plant moments of joy in our hearts despite everything around us. After that, we move on to the drawing session, where the children’s imaginations and colors are set free to create a world far more beautiful than the one they’re living in. By the way, we hold these activities in my family’s humble garden… It may not be perfect, but it’s far better than the heat of the tent. For me, it’s enough that it offers the children a small space for comfort and joy. He explained to them some basics of drawing proportions, texture, colors, shading, and more.

As always, I was there with him, helping with the art and craft activities. I immersed myself in watching the children and taking memorable photos of them. Then he taught them how to draw a house from their imagination. He named this activity: (A House from My Imagination) And the children took off, soaring in their imagination, lost in their sketchbooks and colors. All of them were skilled at drawing.. I was truly surprised by that. The strange thing is, these children haven’t received any formal education in two, maybe even three years. Yet I saw determination shining in their pupils, as if they were truly building real houses with their little hands. I hope this foolish war ends soon, so we can return, rebuild our homes again, and restore the beauty to our lives just as it once was… if not even more beautiful.

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