Last Sunday, I left my family’s tent in As Zawaida, in the heart of the Gaza Strip, and headed to Twix Cafe, a nearby co-working space for freelancers and students. Ten days have passed since the “ceasefire” was announced, and I thought it was finally safe to go out. Going on an adventure was supposed to be a step toward reclaiming a small part of my old life.
My brother and I were about to reach the cafe when we heard a very familiar sound: the thunder of an explosion. An Israeli drone crashed into the entrance of Twix Cafe.
I froze. I thought it was my turn. We won’t survive this war.
Three people were killed and several others were injured. If my brother and I had left the family tent a few minutes earlier, we might have been among the victims.
When the news spread, my family panicked and called us many times. The signal was weak and they tried unsuccessfully to contact us. It wasn’t until we returned to the tent that we were able to comfort my mother.
I asked myself, what kind of “ceasefire” is this? I felt more anger than fear.
When the armistice went into effect and foreign leaders told us the war was over, many of us dared to hope. We thought the explosion would finally stop and we could start rebuilding our shattered lives without fear.
But under Israeli occupation there is no such hope. Violence never really ends. When Israeli forces bombed Twix Cafe that day, they also bombed dozens of other locations in the Gaza Strip, killing at least 45 people and wounding many more.
This day was the deadliest day since the ceasefire took effect. Not a day goes by without casualties. Israel continues to kill people every day. More than 100 Palestinians have been killed since the so-called ceasefire was announced.
Among them were 11 members of the Abu Shaban family. The massacre occurred on October 18, the day before the mass bombing. The Abu Shaban men were attempting to return to their home in Gaza City’s Zeitoun district in a car. The Israeli bomb killed four adults: Sufyan, Samar, Ihab, and Randa. and seven children: Karam, 10, Anas, 8, Nesma, 12, Nasser, 13, Jumana, 10, Ibrahim, 6, and Mohammed, 5.
Israel calls this a “ceasefire.”
On Sunday, heavy shelling began, spreading panic and anxiety across the Strip. As the explosions took place, people rushed to the market to stock up on as much food as possible in case war and famine resumed.
It was heartbreaking to see how people’s minds automatically focused on food during the bombing. We seem to have forever lost the sense of security that tomorrow there will be food on the table.
And yes, Israel is not only violating the “ceasefire” by bombing us, but also withholding the aid they signed off on, so we are still forced to buy food. At least 600 aid trucks were expected to enter Gaza each day. According to the Gaza Media Office, only 986 aid trucks have entered Gaza since the ceasefire took effect on October 11, or 15% of what was promised. Of the trucks counted by the World Food Program (WFP), only 530 have been allowed into the country. UNRWA has 6,000 vehicles waiting to enter the country. None are allowed.
Yesterday, a WFP spokesperson said there were no large aid convoys in Gaza City. Israel still has not granted the agency permission to use Salahuddin Street. Israel’s policy of starving northern Gaza continues.
The Rafah border with Egypt, the only exit to the rest of the world, remains closed. We don’t know when it will open again. When thousands of injured people are allowed to cross for emergency treatment. When a student can leave school to continue their education. When families separated by war are reunited. When those who love Gaza and have been waiting for a long time to return can finally return home.
It is now clear that Israel is treating this “ceasefire” like a switch, turning it on and off as it pleases. Heavy bombardment returned on Sunday, followed by another “ceasefire” on Monday. As if nothing had happened, as if 45 people had not been massacred, as if destroyed homes and families had not been destroyed. It’s shocking to see our lives treated as if they don’t matter. It is soul-crushing to know that Israel can resume its mass killings whenever it wants, without warning or excuse.
This ceasefire is nothing more than a pause in what we currently believe to be a never-ending war, a moment of silence that may end at any time. Until the world finally recognizes our right to life and takes real action to secure it, we will continue to be at the mercy of our brutal occupiers. Until then, news of Israel’s never-ending slaughter will remain in the headlines.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
