Marah
Twenty-two-year-old Marah started writing during the war, focusing on her experiences of trying not just to survive but also to live with her family. Writing is not a choice to her — it is a way to survive.
Still, it was the nicest traffic jam I had ever been stuck in. The noise that I truly loved.
Then, some women caught my attention. They were carrying wood on their backs. Their faces seemed very red in the cold morning. At that moment, I realised that every group suffers most in war. I wished I could help them all.
I made a promise to myself: once I can work, I will come back to this place, to these people who are often overlooked or considered, and I will help them.
I took a breath and waited for a suitable car, avoiding crowded transportation to feel safe.
After five more minutes, we finally got a good car to ride.
A New Adventure Started
Abood opened the car door; we entered and sat down. Once seated, I got ready for the ride’s delights.
I recalled going to an entertainment venue. I closed my eyes, cleared everything from my mind, took a breath, relaxed, and opened my eyes again.
The car continued along a proper road for cars. People waited patiently for their turn to walk. There were many means of transportation.
Suddenly, I realised that we would be stuck in a traffic jam within minutes.
This meant that my ride would stop. I never liked traffic jams, and this was no exception.
However, this traffic jam made me feel like I was living a normal life again. There were many scenes to look at. I was confused about which direction to take them all in.
The street was lined with shops and markets. There were small amounts of clothes, vegetables, fruits, and even some meat.
Sellers were filling the place, whether calling out or standing. Many voices were calling, “Come on! Many goods here. Gaza is living.” Traders and sellers were arranging fruits and vegetables. There were mostly boxes of bananas and avocados.
The smell of barbecue got all my attention. Its scent still lingers with me to this day.
The blend of barbecue, fruits, and vegetables brought back bright memories. Many businesses lined the street. Many people of different ages were shopping, though only a few were buying, which meant everything was still too expensive and unaffordable.
Still, it was the nicest traffic jam I had ever been stuck in. The noise that I truly loved.
Gigantic pride and happiness washed me over. My city was starting to breathe again, and with each breath, it would give its people—who loved it most—something strong and kind.
I hoped the traffic jam would last a long time, so I could keep watching my city breathe and heal from pains far greater than the one in my ears.
Then the car continued its journey, and my eyes did not leave the windows. After 45 minutes, we were nearing our stop and finally reached it.
Getting to the Clinic
Abd Al-Rahman opened the car door, got out, followed by my sister and me. At that moment, the most wonderful feeling lit up every corner of my mind.
Even opening and closing the car door felt like something great I used to do almost daily before the war.
I was ready to continue my journey that had felt fantastic from the very beginning.
I whispered to Jasmine, “Our university, which we haven’t seen for two years, is around here.”
Jasmine said, “How excited I am. We haven’t seen it since the very beginning of the war.”
We both looked to our right. The first scene I saw was a spread load of washed clothes on the nicest building on our university campus, the KSA building.
My heart started aching. This was where I used to attend lectures and study as a human being. This is where I was meeting with lecturers, friends, and many new people. I sat in the wide green nature. I laughed and even cried at times. I was making use of every moment. I was honoured. I was living the nicest life.
Now, nothing was the same.
To be continued…