In text messages from Gaza, a raw tale of hope and despair

I volunteer as a mentor for young Palestinian writers in Gaza through the nonprofit We Are Not Numbers. Between Oct. 7 and 26, I received WhatsApp messages from one of my mentees, Nada, about her experience in Gaza. Her words tell a story that is raw — and one that is important to hear.

“I was crying, leaving my home, my dreams, my plans to continue my life. So afraid to lose all of them,” she wrote. That was on Oct. 7, the day Hamas attacked Israel, triggering massive military retaliation on the Gaza Strip.

At the outset of the recent violence, Nada (she asked me to withhold her last name out of concern for her safety) was working on a story for We Are Not Numbers about allegations that the Israeli Defense Forces were persistently targeting workers in the Palestinian fishing industry. I am her mentor, assigned to help her shape and revise her piece.

Nada regularly texted me about her in-the-moment experience of survival, and her determination to finish and submit her article. She agreed to allow me to share her texts. Her words have been lightly edited for length and clarity.

It’s a very hard time. I am so sad, afraid, and tired. This is my first war in my own house. My wedding was three months ago. I escaped to my family’s house because my house is near the border and it’s so dangerous to live in. I was crying, leaving my home, my dreams, my plans to continue my life. So afraid to lose all of them.

My cousin was killed and I still can’t believe it.

Sorry 💔, wallah, there are no words. I miss my words. I will call you when the internet is good to edit the article.

Voice message: Hello, how are you? I hope you are doing well. Actually, there is internet right now, but I didn’t expect it to be good in these days. I mean, the war. ... I hope the internet will be good. I hope, I hope, I hope for me to be alive. Just ...

Sharon, I am still alive.

I have food but I have no home. No peace. I left my home and I am afraid, I hope the bombing will not kill me and my family — my new home and my new life with my husband. There is no water for washing our faces! No electricity. No internet most of the time. And the world is against us. The IDF called me on my phone, and they called people here. They told people to leave their homes.

💔 We are away from the world.

I am still alive I will say more. 💔

If not ... I hope we will meet in paradise and speak only about peace.

Voice message: Hi there. We are in another place right now, but I cannot say which place because of the Israeli policy on phones. They are calling us to leave. We have food and water and poor connection to the internet. There is no electricity but for three hours only per day. And I can’t talk about those details, but if we will talk about the details after the war, after the aggression, it will be more safe for me and for my family.

But the thing that I’m thinking about is the story because I want to finish the work because I don’t have my mind in these days, actually. Just …

Wallah, I am so grateful that others around the world are fighting for us. We are all people like them. We love peace and life. All of us has his or her own love story and our own homes and favorite song and meal and place and books. I hope all people defend us in front of those who firstly live in our lands, and finally are killing us to take the rest.

I hope to write about this experience. 😭 💔 It’s very hard. If I am still alive ...

I hope you have safety in all of your life and never live in war. Ameen. I hope you submit the article. Did you submit it, or not yet?

I am still alive. I hope this crisis gets finished.

Voice message: [voice very faint and shaken] Hello Sharon, I’m still alive for now, with so many losses of spirits in my home. My home was partly destroyed. Yesterday, my husband went to see it and bring back things. I hope to rebuild it.

I hope the spirits will be saved. And we rebuild the homes again.

Sure, I want to share my words from our texts.

...

I have not heard from Nada since that last message.

Sharon Weinman is a retired organizational development consultant, an active member of Mishkan Shalom in Philadelphia, a leader in POWER Interfaith, and a volunteer mentor for young Palestinian writers in Gaza through the nonprofit We Are Not Numbers, an organization that shares the stories of human beings behind the numbers in the news.