Dreams Deferred: A True Story from the Gaza Genocide

The following is a true story from one of the young women of Gaza who managed to survive this genocidal onslaught, a young 22-year-old girl named Donia (an Arabic name meaning world) who used to live in northern Gaza. At least 3,550 women and 5,500 children have been killed in Gaza at the time of the publishing of this article, and the figures will likely be higher by the time you read this. Such a number is staggering and anyone who still has humanity left will be shocked that such a large amount of innocent people could be killed in such little time. Please pray for Donia and all the children of Gaza. The survivors may be alive now, but there is no guarantee they will continue to be survivors tomorrow.

Chapter 1: Losing My World

A year had passed since the last war. Donia was forced to lose her sister during that time because of the brutal “Israeli” acts perpetrated against innocents. On 7 October 2023, Donia and her father heard the news about the surprise retaliatory attack on “Israeli” settlements. She thought about the impending genocide that might follow.

Soon after, the globe was dressed in red as the “Israeli: military began its bombardment campaign over Gaza that day.

The ground shook violently as an explosion ripped through the night. Donia jolted awake in her bed, heart racing. She threw aside the thin sheet and ran to the window, peering outside anxiously. “Not again,” she whispered in alarm. Bombardments had intensified over the past week, striking even residential areas now. Dania glanced at the clock – it was barely past midnight. Sleep would not return tonight.

Worries for her family gnawed at her. She ran to her father, who was sitting tensely on the couch listening to updates. “Abba, is everything alright?” Donia asked quietly as she approached him.

Ahmed looked up at his daughter with sad eyes. “The attacks are closer than before. I fear this conflict may finally reach our doorstep.”

They sat together in silence, taking refuge in each other’s company against the looming dangers outside. Donia thought longingly of happier times, when her biggest worries were exams and university applications. How quickly circumstances could change and the war would drag her dream of publishing her first book into darkness.

The bombs fell throughout the long night. Come morning, a heavy silence descended upon their neighborhood. Donia’s heart clenched knowing this stillness likely meant a disaster was coming.

Later that morning, a massive explosion rocked the entire area. Where her home had stood just minutes ago, now lay only a pile of smoking rubble. Heart stopping, breath catching in her throat, Donia stood up on shaking legs and ran towards the wreckage.

“Abba! Omar! Umi!” she screamed hysterically, digging frantically with her bare hands into the fallen concrete slabs and wooden beams. Her hands bled within moments but she didn’t feel the pain. Tears blinded her as she dug desperately, hoping against hope to find her family alive.

After what seemed like hours, neighbors arrived and joined in the search. Donia collapsed in exhaustion, watched helplessly as others removed chunks of rubble. When they finally pulled out the first body, Donia let out an agonized wail. It was her mother Amina, bloodstained and unmoving. Omar was found next, his small frame crushed under heavy debris.

As night fell again, the rescue efforts turned to recovery. Donia sat hugging her knees amidst the wreckage, shutting out the world in her trauma. Her father was nowhere to be seen.

Somewhere deep in her numbed heart, she knew he too must have perished in the collapse. Her family, her entire world, was gone in an instant. Donia had never felt more alone.

That night, she took shelter at a neighbor’s modest home. None could find rest, grieving their collective losses together.

As Donia lay awake staring into the blackness her mind replayed her family’s final memories over and over.

The next day, Donia watched detachedly as volunteers dug graves. She recited prayers by rote though her soul had been left with her loved ones. As the three bodies were lowered into the ground, Donia collapsed again at the grave side.

Her family, the center of her universe, was gone in the blink of an eye. Everything she knew and held dear had crumbled into the dust at her feet. And for the first time since the tragedy began, Donia allowed the immense pain and sorrow to consume her entirely as she wept brokenheartedly into the night.

Chapter 2: Pieces to Pick Up

Donia woke up with a start, disoriented in the unfamiliar room. For a blissful moment, she didn’t remember. Then, it all came crashing back in a brutal wave of remorse.

She was at Mariam’s small home, having taken refuge here after losing her own. Her family was gone. A hollow ache filled her being as tears welled up instinctively. Donia let them fall silently, allowing herself this private moment of grief. She had cried herself dry the night before yet her sorrow seemed limitless.

Rousing herself, Donia walked outside into the slowly brightening streets. Neighbors were taking stock of damages – what was left of their homes and belongings, what was gone forever. An eerie stillness hovered despite muffled sobs and hushed conversations. This shell-shocked tableau would be imprinted in Donia’s mind.

At the ruins, she picked her way carefully, searching. Her first being a written book about her father in the light of honoring his legacy. Her writing was an act of preserving memories. Losing the book now pained Donia deeply. She kept digging through rubble, pushed debris aside with her toe, hoping for a miracle.

Suddenly, a glint of brown caught her eye from under a tilted slab. Brushing dust off gently, she excavated the book, intact despite a new crack on its cover. Tracing her fingers over her handwriting, Donia was overcome with relief. She clung to it desperately.

In the ensuing days, Donia settled into a harrowing new routine. Come mornings, she helped with cleanup and rescue efforts. Bodies were still emerging occasionally from collapsed homes. At nightfall, grief and shock gave way to insomnia.

Each day, Donia sat outside Mariam’s home as the bombardment stopped, opening her book on her lap. With pen shaking in hand, she kept reading her book, and with grief she expressed her sadness, pain and missing feelings. She added the torture she witnessed. The ache lessened minutely with each word.

Chapter 3: Dream Deferred

After almost one month, explosions kept rocking the earth in rapid succession. Days passed with sporadic shelling, keeping residents on edge. Schools shut indefinitely and used for shelter. One night, heavy bombing rattled the walls for hours. Fears of a full-scale ground invasion were on peoples’ minds.

Families gathered belongings hastily to evacuate towards the south. “We will flee,” Mariam said shakily.

Donia found an orphaned girl in the neighborhood, named Aya. In tears, Donia hugged Aya tight, praying to whatever higher power for the children’s protection.

At first light, they joined a long stream of families escaping on foot. Donia carried only a satchel with provisions and the book. Aya’s tiny hand nestled securely in hers.

They walked for miles under a blazing sun. By afternoon, the neighborhood was far behind yet danger remained imminent.

Up ahead, a refugee camp had been hastily set up in an open field. Rows of tents dotted the periphery under palms and acacias.

Days blended into weeks under the nomadic conditions. Aid trickled in but never enough to curb growing hardships. Overcrowding bred illnesses, sanitation was dire. Despite volunteers’ efforts, the camp lacked even basic amenities.

One evening, as Donia read entries aloud by smoky lamplight, Aya curled against her side drowsily. “When will we go home?” she asked softly. Donia wished with all her heart she could assure the girl of stability once more. But homes lay in ruins, and dangers still prowled too close.

In her quiet moments, Donia mulled over their bleak prospects. Returning seemed impossible for now. Continuing her education and finalizing her book which had been a distant dream, felt further than ever. Heavy was the toll forced displacements extracted,especially on innocent childhoods.

Donia had mixed feelings. She wished she could flee Gaza as the opportunities may open. Donia lost everything. Her future lay shrouded as the future of many people. Yet, she would walk till her dream finds a foothold. She kept clutching at her book. Donia kept Aya with her as she felt responsible of her innocence. She said: “Gaza is the city of life.”