Beloved Bisan

here's a promise

A ceasefire.

The jubilations and cheers and thankful prostrations that we as a world witnessed from Gaza was their right. They have been at the receiving end of brutality, destruction and dehumanisation propaganda that we cannot even fathom. They have every right to feel hope.

But when I heard about the proposed ceasefire, I collapsed. My body shook from sobs. It was a bizarre moment, me alone with my phone clutched in my hand in a country that doesn’t even share a continent with the Gazans, crying for them as if I connected more with them than with those around me. My heart did, if nothing else. There was relief in my tears, of course. However, I couldn’t forget those who had died, or the children who had survived without family members. I couldn’t mask the unease and mistrust I felt towards the Israelis, and the other actors in the negotiations of that ceasefire. Sure, the current onslaught would most likely end, the bad press Israel has received has meant that continuing the violence would become untenable for its global public image, but at what cost has it come?

The Gazans know more than you or I how Israel operates, they live in the face of the mindset that cultivates racial superiority. Their feelings must be complex as they move towards rebuilding what has been destroyed with such impunity. But rebuild they will. Their resilience has been astounding. Even when they knew that Israel was likely to attack before the ceasefire was formally put in place (which it did — over 100 murdered in Gaza since the ceasefire was announced), the videos I saw were declarations of hope, plans to return to their homes and rebuild. This rebuilding that they must undertake is our responsibility too.

I think of Bisan. Bisan whose videos have their own defiance in her continuing to state ‘I’m still alive’, whose words and actions cemented her commitment to life and her community and people. Recently, seeing her simple joy she when found a stack of Agatha Christie books in an abandoned shop, I pictured her sitting in her favourite chair, or curled in bed, reading about that funny little Belgian detective and I wished it so much for her— to be able to read, and think of nothing beyond the story that has captured you. Now, I hope that moment is closer to reality for her.

And… we need to be a big part of making it happen. This genocide should have woken you up. It’s important to remember that Gazan’s still live under occupation, that a blockade has been in full force since 2007, that they cannot swim in their own sea. When the people return to the sites of their homes, they will need a lot of help. Our voices should be just as loud in making sure that the occupation ends now that more people are listening.

I suppose this is what scares me: that interest will fizzle out, that people will go back to their Starbucks, will become ensconced in inane memes and celebrity gossip, will forget that justice is still forthcoming.

I wish I could use my own bare hands to lift each piece of rubble, to stand side-by-side with the Gazans as they work towards recovery.

Well, the distance shouldn’t dampen us; we continue with a grim determination. This is the beginning of change. I will whatever is in my capacity to help free Palestine. That’s my promise, at least.