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Vision | “I feel like a superhero.” Hope lives with Gaza debris.

During the military Gaza, a place called Taqat in Deiri Al counta lay me.

The taqat, which means “Power” in Arabic, is a reliable welfare and electrical work – enabled in solar panels – started between the Fishs of Works and the students. It can give something that sounds almost feasible for those times: productivity and purpose.

I started working there as a software project manager, working with others who were ready to continue moving on. It was wonderful to see that, even in the most difficult circumstances, people find ways to help, continue building and adherence. Tamqat reminded me that even in the most difficult, we have the power to form something meaningful.

The idea that life can be more than the survival of Veer is part of the delicate feelings of hope that the latest fire will bring us to Gaza. After weeks of an endless Israelite bomb, the silence sounds ready, almost as a dream afraid of trusting.

But the destruction that surrounds us is amazing. The neighbors turn to trash, many tombs fill the loved ones and countless families abandoned without any tribulation. A large number of dead and injured is almost impossible to understand. The rebuilding will take years, perhaps decades, if Israel allows.

But beyond physical damage, there is another challenge we face now: Coping with the emotional tribulation of such a disaster.

Over a year of war, we in Gaza began a kind of psychology, which oppresses hope. Hope was dangerous because it was not easy to get abound. And there is no place to find feelings when our lives focus on seeking basic necessities such as accessing food and water, pitch wood to cook food and flight to keep warm. We became a complex as a way to protect himself.

Now, with the end of the end, when stiffness begins to blame, and we are left facing the weight of our emotions. We fear our feelings. We cannot avoid a huge feeling of loss.

Many of us do not even know that our lost loved ones are alive or dead. The thought of returning to our old places is scary. What if we didn’t see anything? What if the places that had caught up our most exciting memories are gone? How do we mourn when lament sounds like a comfortable secret?

I left in Gaza and my parents when I was ten, in 2013. We moved to Malaysia Saya international school in Aala Lumpur. Three years ago, when I was 18, I returned to the university, despite the ban of Israel and the great dealing of hobbies. I wanted to re-connect my roots, to understand the place I appear. I studied with a computer engineering and, like so many teens here, was filled with ambition.

But this war has taught me things that no student has to learn about.

I read the actual description of starvation – not the kind of hunger you feel when you skip a meal, but the kind of stomach. I have to make impossible decisions, such as he will give the final piece of bread to the hungry person or safeguard my family.

I learned how it sounds that it is totally worthless. There were times during the war where you wanted to help someone, there was nothing to do. The streets were destroyed, hospitals were ruined and even basic resources were not available because of the formal Israelite attack. That feeling of no power is something I will never forget. I am afraid that it will continue if the end of the end is not holding, the ban is underway and Israel is not caught.

One of the hard lessons I have learned is how the war filter your personality. As soon as you live is only your purpose, it is easy to lose everything else. You stop thinking about the future because the gift we can handle.

Today we have to deal with that remnant. We should deal with it – and overcome – fear, grief and uncertainty. And we have to find a way to rebuild, not just our homes, but our lives. We should get our joint experience of purpose – the feeling that was attracted to Tqat – and helped move one to another to the next.

The very long, the world has seen us only with the lens of suffering. The fact is, we in Gaza is not just a weightless weight of people we desire to eat and water. We are students, teachers, doctors, musicians and dreamers. We are interesting and talents, like anyone else.

I hope this war, such as hurting as much as it has been, the eyes of the people will be opened in our situation. I hope that the world will recognize how the good Palestines are treated, not just Gaza, but everywhere since 1948, the dismissal of the Palestine Arabites. We must live in freedom with dignity. We must have our country, and our future.

Renewing Gaza is impossible. When the fires begin and Israel opens the boundaries, if we receive resources, if the world supports us, we can build something better than we had before.

I have so much strong skill within me, and I’m ready to use it. Somehow, I feel like a superhero, I like the worst and I was out. Gaza is more than just a city. It is a community, family and home. And no matter how much we lose, we’ll find a way to rebuild it. We will survive. And we will continue to go.


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