Eman Abu Shawish Story 12

I made some tea and the kids sat around me, as I was considering some activity we can do to reduce the repercussions of the horrific night before.

Before any of us took a sip of the tea, we heard a loud explosion. Sounds of breaking glass and things falling. The house suddenly filled up with black smoke that caused partial darkness and a suffocating odor, and everyone started coughing. The metal drape fell on my head, but I didn’t care. All I was focused on was getting wet towels to cover the kids noses so they don’t suffocate.

Then we all ran towards the ground floor with the two young girls hanging on to my clothes, only to find the stairs also full of broken glass. I took the kids inside the house on the ground floor and headed towards the building entrance to look for my eldest son. He was waiting for any vehicle selling drinking water, while his father was waiting in a bakery line to buy some bread. I was searching and telling myself: “Please, God, protect my son and husband and don’t separate us.” I felt my heart beat fast and my thoughts racing back and forth. I kept searching in the burning street that was full of smoke and rubble. I deeply thanked God when I found him safe and sound.

The smoke subsided only for us to discover the martyrdom of three children from 3 of the families of our neighbors. One of the children had gone up to the roof to feed the rabbit kittens. He used to adore those kittens and care for them like they were little babies… We also found a number of injured people.

The families whose homes were damaged started moving to other places. My youngest daughter, Fayruz, who is 7 years old, bid farewell to her friends. Little did she know that they will be targeted in the houses they went to, and two would die and rise.

We spent around an hour and a half in the ground floor until my children’s bodies stopped shaking enough so they could walk, and we went back up to our home. I quickly swept the broken glass and the fallen things, and pulled down the windows that were partially broken so the pieces don’t fall on pedestrians on the street. And when I was done, I started feeling the whiplash in my head from the fallen metal drape, which remained for a few days afterwards.

I looked at my kids who were gathered in a corner, crying. I hugged them all and before I uttered a word, Fayruz said: “I pray I die and rise so I get rid this of this fear.”

Dana said: “Mommy, I feel I am dead… I feel I am not alive… mama, do you see me?”

I performed some quick psychological interventions, and then I allowed them all some space to talk freely about their experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Eventually, I suggested we draw. Dana, my 11-year-old, drew the attached picture.

She explained her drawing: “This is a house that was shelled and fell on people, and this girl said No God But Allah before she died. She is really scared and very sad and nobody can save her from the rocket.”

Eman Abu Shawish
Mental Health Professional with UPA – Gaza, Palestine
4 November 2023

To read all stories in the series: http://upaconnect.org/category/gaza2023