Global Courant
Maghazi, Gaza – Ahmed Nehad, 24, left Gaza two months ago to pursue a master’s degree in Britain and has been talking about Palestine since his arrival there, especially in the past two weeks.
Adham Mousa, 27, has been away from Gaza for eleven years and ended up in the United States, where he lives and works. He has only been back to Gaza once, in November 2022, and now does not know when he will be able to return.
They are two of many Palestinians outside Gaza who are mourning from a distance after hearing that relatives and friends were killed under intense Israeli bombardment, as hundreds of people died, entire neighborhoods were wiped out and the health care system collapsed.
The struggles of Palestinians far from their extended support networks are made worse because, no matter how much their friends try to support them, this kind of pain is difficult to explain or fully share.
‘I’d rather be at home with my family’
Mousa’s father sent him a “Good Morning” text message every day since he left Gaza.
Now he sends a text message saying, “We are fine and alive” every time he accesses cell service or the Internet.
Mousa says words cannot describe his feelings about what is happening to Gaza. Anger, sadness, frustration and fear grip him as he worries for his family and the 2.3 million other people in Gaza.
Ahmed Nehad with his cousin Mohamed in May 2022 (courtesy of Ahmed Nehad)
“I know what it’s like to be constantly under air raids and have to flee your home for fear of being bombed. “I was there in 2008-2009 during the Gaza massacre, but I would much rather be at home with my family than watch them suffer from afar every day,” he said.
Nehad spends his days monitoring attacks on Palestinians in the occupied West Bank, Jerusalem, the Gaza Strip and inside Israel, something he says “feels like a job.”
“Every day, news of killings, displacement, home demolitions and arrests of innocent Palestinians fills my work in the middle of the night and conversations about Palestine for everyone here,” Nehad said.
When the attacks in Israel this month by the armed wing of Hamas, the group that rules the Gaza Strip, first hit the news, Nehad says, the entire world around him was in shock, while colleagues, classmates and professors ” conflict’ discussed. Probably because, he said, the victims were Israelis and not Palestinians.
His university and other institutions in Britain sent emails condemning the “terrorist” events in Israel.
“My family and all my friends were driven from their homes. Our house was destroyed. Gaza, which I left two months ago, is in ruins. But the emails haven’t changed. We continue to receive emails condemning Hamas and warning us not to show any sympathy for Palestinian ‘terrorists’,” Nehad added.
He doesn’t feel safe in Britain, he said. Anyone who ‘sympathises’ with Palestine, including by raising the Palestinian flag or wearing a Palestinian keffiyeh headdress, will be reported to university management or the authorities. Attending protests in Britain is risky.
‘I want to be where I belong’
Mousa feels less lonely because he is supported by friends and colleagues as if he had experienced a death.
“The first thing I did was look for plane tickets to return to Gaza and be with my family. But the Egyptian government closed the border as soon as the Israelis started bombing Gaza, so there was no legal way for me to return to the homeland,” Mousa said.
So he stayed in the US and instead tried to educate people about what was happening in Gaza and other Palestinian areas.
“I don’t think most people here are curious enough to learn about the Palestinian struggle for themselves,” he said, adding that he now uses his social media profiles to share Palestine’s story.
“It’s a frustrating position to be in, but I will never stop sharing the truth, and I hope others will start sharing it too,” Mousa said.
Contacting families in Gaza is virtually impossible. Mousa tries to call every hour of the day because there is no way to tell when his loved ones will have internet or cell service.
“It’s a relief when someone answers the phone. I immediately think, ‘Thank God. They’re still alive,” Mousa said.
His father was supposed to come visit him, but the trip is now canceled. “I don’t get to see my family, and only God knows when or if I’ll be able to see them again,” he said.
Nehad is also in pain. “I am consumed with guilt. I feel a deep betrayal. I want to be under the bombardment.
“This world, which continues as if the extermination of two million people in Gaza is not happening right now, does not suit me.
“I am the ‘other’ in it. I want to leave it. I want to be where I belong, in Gaza, the unimportant place, with the ‘others’ whose blood, homes and lives do not matter.”
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25024189/Matchmaker_Both_POVs.png?w=150&resize=150,150&ssl=1 "Tinder now lets friends and family pick your next date")
