I have a big Palestinian family. I grew up in a household full of children: We are eight brothers and sisters. As my older siblings started getting married and having children, our family grew even bigger. Every weekend, our family home would fill up with children’s laughter.I used to wait impatiently for Thursday to come, the day my married sisters would come to visit us with their children. My father would be out shopping, my mother – busy cooking her daughters’ favourite dishes, and I would be playing with the kids. I have nine nieces and nephews in total, and I have beautiful memories playing with and cuddling each one of them. They are the treasure of my family because a home without children is like a tree without leaves.
Despite the difficult life of occupation and siege in Gaza, my sisters and brothers did their best to provide for their children and give them the best opportunity to study and pursue their dreams.
Then the genocide started. The relentless bombing, the constant displacement, the starvation.
I do not have children of my own, but I feel the excruciating pain of my sisters when they face the cries of their hungry children.
“I no longer have the strength to endure. I …
