Opinion: In Gaza, children are learning the alphabet through grief and hunger
Tragically, the next day, 7 October, marked the end of any semblance of normal life and the beginning of a war that shattered everything.
Since then, Israeli air strikes have pounded every corner of Gaza - homes, hospitals, schools, and even kindergartens have not been spared.
Doaa's house was reduced to a heap of rubble, burying her teaching materials and the toys she had bought for her students - children who deserved to live.
A Palestinian woman and children stand amid the rubble at a kindergarten hit by Israeli air strikes in Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, on 9 December 2023 (Said Khatib/AFP)
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Middle East Eye
an hour ago
- Middle East Eye
War on Gaza: When friends become names you whisper to the sky
I used to believe that being a sociable person was a gift. My ability to connect with others and adapt to any space felt like a strength. I was the girl who made friends wherever she went, who put strangers at ease and brought comfort to those she met. I left no room for silence, no space for awkward pauses. Smiling was my language, kindness my shield. Everyone who knew me called me the bright one. I thought this was a blessing - that being full of love was a strength. But in times of war, it becomes an open wound that never heals. The more people you know, the wider your circle of loss becomes. The more hearts you open yourself to, the more pieces of your own are taken. Now I don't count days. I count names. I no longer celebrate milestones; I keep a tally of the ones I've missed. I walk through my memories, breathing nostalgia instead of air, carrying the faces of my friends like sacred icons untouched by time. New MEE newsletter: Jerusalem Dispatch Sign up to get the latest insights and analysis on Israel-Palestine, alongside Turkey Unpacked and other MEE newsletters I didn't just lose friends. I lost parts of myself buried in them - unfinished laughter, unfulfilled dreams, and moments we were supposed to live together in the future. What hurts most is that, despite everything, I still meet new people. My heart opens its doors, even though it knows that every embrace we share might be the last. I didn't just lose friends. I lost parts of myself buried in them - unfinished laughter, unfulfilled dreams, and moments we were supposed to live together in the future When friends are gone, life turns into a heavy silence you can't escape. You carry unread messages in your chest, words that lived on your tongue but never found ears. Photographs once filled with their laughter become still images, not living presences. Their voices - once a source of warmth - are now cold breezes passing by, whispering fragments of stories that were never told. Every moment without them takes another piece of the heart, stealing joy and comfort with it. What remains is a void larger than words, deeper than silence, heavier than tears. This is the one truth that lingers when friends are gone: you don't just lose them - you lose the version of you that only existed when you were with them. I never imagined I'd find myself writing eulogies for the girls I once laughed with on ordinary mornings: Shimaa Saidam - 15 October 2023 - 19 years old Shimaa Saidam pictured in an undated photo before she was killed in an Israeli air strike on Gaza in October 2023 (Supplied) My dear friend Shimaa wasn't just a brilliant, hard-working student; she was a pure beam of light. She was very intelligent, yes - but it was the kindness in her eyes that spoke first. A gentle presence, she nevertheless left a strong impression on everyone she met. She gave generously, reaching out without expecting anything in return. In 2023, she ranked first in all of Palestine in the high school national exam. I was proud of her, but I never liked reducing her to her grades. She was defined by her spirit, her quiet voice, and her unshakeable strength in the face of hurt. We studied together. We memorised the Quran side by side. We shared dreams as we walked to and from school, and later, university. I always felt a connection between us deeper than friendship. She left this world at 19, but her name still lives on in my prayers. Every time I want to give up, I whisper her name and keep walking - for her, and for me. Raghad Al-Naami - 16 October 2023 - 19 years old Raghad Al-Naami pictured in an undated photo before she was killed in an Israeli air strike on Gaza in October 2023 (Supplied). Raghad spoke through silence, expressing herself with a glance, comforting with a smile. Even though she wasn't much of a conversationalist, her presence was powerful. She was like a rare book, one you read slowly, understanding its depth page by page. We shared desks, quiet conversations, and her favourite texts - ones she loved more than people. During exams, her calm presence made everything feel lighter. We were a trio - Shimaa, Raghad and I. Raghad, too, left this world at 19, leaving a space beside me that no-one else can fill. Lina Al-Hour - 27 October 2023 - 19 years old Lina Al-Hour pictured in an undated photo before she was killed in an Israeli air strike on Gaza in October 2023 (Supplied) Lina and I met in middle school and grew up together. We laughed and laughed, as if we knew those moments wouldn't last forever. Lina was quiet, but her presence felt like a long embrace. In our last meeting, she stood beside her closest friend, Sujoud, during our high school graduation ceremony. She was smiling, as always, with eyes that looked forward to a future that never arrived. Graduation day has become a painful memory. We couldn't keep our promise to stay together, sharing more tomorrows. Whenever I see the prayers Sujoud posts for her online, I feel Lina's presence still with us - a silent guardian in the sky. Mayar Jouda - 31 October 2023 - 18 years old Mayar Jouda speaks during a school event in Gaza, in an undated photo taken before she was killed in an Israeli air strike in October 2023 (Supplied) Mayar was a year younger than me, yet she had the wisdom of a woman twice her age. I met her in the student parliament, where our voices were raised in hope. Hers had a tone you don't forget, and her words were poetry, wrapped in longing. She had hands meant for healing, a voice made for verses, and a heart wide enough to hold everyone. She dreamed of becoming a surgeon, but didn't even get to begin her senior year of high school. Her life ended before her dream could be realised. Born in 2006. Martyred at 18. Asmaa Jouda - 24 May 2025 - 21 years old Asmaa Jouda speaks during a school event in Gaza, in an undated photo taken before she was killed in an Israeli air strike in May 2025 (Supplied). Asmaa wasn't just another girl from middle school - she was a dream companion, a sacred friend in our shared devotion to memorising the Quran. Alongside Maryam, we competed and won many Quran competitions, always as a team. We were like one voice reaching for Heaven. There was a light in her eyes that could only come from a soul filled with faith. Everyone who met her loved her. She sat beside my best friend Aya during our final school year. Aya often spoke of her kindness, her smile, her quiet beauty. And her voice - oh, that unforgettable voice - still echoes inside me. Memory as resistance They were all killed by the Israeli occupation forces. Some were bombed inside their homes, others in displacement shelters. They left before their dreams could bloom - their memories now reminders of brutal loss. I wasn't given a chance to hold them one last time, or even say goodbye in a way that matched their importance to me. Follow Middle East Eye's live coverage of the Israel-Palestine war I write now because remembering is a form of resistance. There's a kind of silence that follows the loss of friends - a silence that doesn't soothe, but bleeds, stirring in every heart questions that cannot be answered. Conversations unfinished. Secrets untold. Moments unlived. War on Gaza: The world only saw my cousins' deaths. I want you to know their lives Read More » Losing a friend is not just losing a person - it's losing a shared language only the two of you understood. That friend was the one who saw you, even in your absence, and heard the heartbeat in your voice. She understood the parts of you no one else could see. She was your mirror - and when she breaks, you're left with the shards of your former life. Every article I read about grief brings back their faces, their voices, and, finally, their silence. That's why I write: to bring their names back into the light. To tell the world they were here. They laughed. They dreamed. They walked beside me. And they still walk within me. I used to believe that being a sociable person was a blessing. Now I carry that gift like a scar - a mark of love, and of all that was lost. But still, I will not stop giving my heart. I will not stop remembering. They were not just friends, they were chapters of my life. And their names deserve to be read - forever. The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.
Al Etihad
a day ago
- Al Etihad
7 dead in Pakistan building collapse, woman escapes with family 20 minutes before
4 July 2025 19:52 Karachi (AFP)A five-storey building collapsed in Pakistan on Friday, killing at least seven people and injuring eight, officials said, with rescuers searching through the rubble for trapped incident happened shortly after 10 am (0500 GMT) in the impoverished Lyari neighbourhood of Kamho, 30, a resident of the building who was out at the time, said around 20 families were living inside. "I got a call from my wife saying the building was cracking and I told her to get out immediately," he told AFP at the scene."She went to warn the neighbours, but one woman told her 'this building will stand for at least 10 more years'. Still, my wife took our daughter and left. About 20 minutes later, the building collapsed."Rescuers retrieved seven bodies from the rubble, and rescued eight injured people, an official leading the operations, Abid Jalaluddin Shaikh, told Mayor Murtaza Wahab confirmed the death toll to reporters as he visited the to 100 people had been living in the building, senior police officer Arif Aziz told AFP. Nearby residents rushed to save their neighbours before rescuers took over to remove the rubble, along with at least five heavy machinery struggled to access the narrow alleys, and police baton-charged residents to clear the way. In June 2020, at least 18 people were killed when a residential building housing about 40 apartments collapsed in the same area of the city.
Middle East Eye
a day ago
- Middle East Eye
Opinion: In Gaza, children are learning the alphabet through grief and hunger
On the evening of Friday, 6 October 2023, my aunt Doaa, a kindergarten teacher in Gaza, had just finished preparing new activities for her students. She was excited to see their reactions the next morning. Tragically, the next day, 7 October, marked the end of any semblance of normal life and the beginning of a war that shattered everything. Since then, Israeli air strikes have pounded every corner of Gaza - homes, hospitals, schools, and even kindergartens have not been spared. Doaa's house was reduced to a heap of rubble, burying her teaching materials and the toys she had bought for her students - children who deserved to live. A Palestinian woman and children stand amid the rubble at a kindergarten hit by Israeli air strikes in Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, on 9 December 2023 (Said Khatib/AFP)
