In the heart of Gaza, amidst the rubble and ongoing violence, 28-year-old Hanya Aljamal grapples with the profound changes to her life. Once an aspiring English teacher with dreams of pursuing a Master’s degree in international development, Hanya now resides in a cramped apartment with her parents and five siblings. "I don’t think God intended for people in their late 20s to live with their parents," she reflects, seeking solace from the chaos that surrounds her.
Each day begins on the tiny balcony of her family’s temporary home, where she finds a flicker of peace in watching a neighbor tend to his garden, a striking symbol of resilience amid destruction. Hanya lives in Deir al-Balah, a town at the center of Gaza’s ongoing conflict, stretching back two years from October 2023, when hostilities erupted. Her former life is now a distant memory; the school where she taught has been reduced to ruins and her aspirations have shattered.
As heavy explosions disrupt her nights, Hanya records her experiences in an audio diary, giving voice to the suffering and displacement faced by Gazans. The UN reports about 90% of the population has been uprooted by the conflict, yet Hanya continues her work with Action for Humanity, assisting those in dire need. Yet, within the chaos, she finds beauty—a child flying a kite represents hope and an attempt to reclaim some semblance of normalcy.
However, every day brings a new layer of trauma and uncertainty. As she navigates gunfire and the psychological burden of drones overhead, Hanya is forced to confront the erosion of her identity and sense of control. "It took me a while to accept the fact that I am no longer the person that I identify myself as," she admits, deeply affected by the loss of friends and colleagues, punctuated by the violence that stalks her community.
The first day of Eid al-Adha brings with it further despair—her family lacks the means to celebrate, and news of a cousin’s death reminds her of the countless tragedies that unfold around her. Struggling between grief and survival, Hanya states, "Grieving is a luxury many of us can't afford."
Yet even amid the soot and despair, the dawn breaks with hues of pink and blue— a momentary escape reminding Hanya that beauty still exists, if only fleetingly. Gazing at the sky, she yearns for a return to life as she once knew it but remains steadfast in her commitment to support her community during these harrowing times.
