Abo Saleh's in Gaza

The dawn was tranquil, the air fragrant with the scent of fresh earth. The breeze whispered through the trees, and birds were flying in circles in the clear blue sky. The first rays of light began to stretch across the horizon.

Abo Saleh stood on the roof of his home, breathing deeply. Each dawn, like the one before, he prayed, but this time he prayed a little longer, for he had sensed that something harsh loomed ahead.

He went downstairs to check on his children. Maybe Lina had kicked her blanket aside again. Maybe Salma was still up, glued to Instagram reels. One by one, he checked on them. Unlike the others, Saleh was the only one who stayed up all night studying.

“Being a doctor isn’t easy, son,” Abo Saleh said with a smile.

He approached his son, Saleh, and patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t know how much I love you, do you?”

Saleh, with a mock indignation, replied, “That’s why you mock me all the time?”

They both laughed, the sound of it filling the room like a brief escape from their weary thoughts.

As Abo Saleh roamed through his home, his mind weighed down with unsettling thoughts. Without him realizing it, he found himself standing in his bedroom. His wife, Nisma, lay asleep beside him, unaware. He gazed at her; his heart was burning with fatigue, then he sighed deeply.

A sudden warmth on his cheek startled him, and he realized that a tear had fallen.

Standing by the window, he whispered to himself, "Maybe this is the last dawn we'll witness in Gaza." Whenever the weight of his thoughts became too much, he would retreat to sleep, hoping it would shield him from his fears.

But no sooner had his eyes closed than a huge explosion shook their home. Debris fell, trapping him beneath the rubble.

He opened one eye, and through the blur, he realized he couldn’t see from his other eye. His wrinkled hands were soaked with blood. Nisma—ten years younger than him, his love, his everything—lay beside him, lifeless, motionless. She had been his equal, a partner in every sense. She had carried the burden of raising their children alone while he worked abroad. She was a mother and a father at the same time when her husband was making their bread outside Gaza. Every day she had been the one to hold their world together. 

The hours crawled past.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

At the hospital, the doctors told him, "Your family is gone, Abo Saleh. Our condolences."

One doctor, with tears welling in his eyes, approached him. “We found this bracelet in your wife’s hand. She was holding it so tightly, we could hardly get it loose."

Abo Saleh’s heart shattered. His breath became labored, each sob pulling him away from the man he once was.

For two agonizing hours, he fought death. But against all odds, he survived.

Two days later, as dawn broke, he prayed once more for the family he had lost—one by one. Regret overwhelmed him. Why had he mocked his son? Why had he punished Salma for her late-night distractions? Why hadn’t he hugged Lina? So she is maybe alive with him now.

Clutching Nisma’s bracelet, he wept, whispering, “I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone again,”

Now, alone, hallowed and broken, he stood amidst the ruins, where his family was buried in the silence of graves. It felt as though he, too, had been buried with them. He held on to that silent patch of land among the noise around him.

Then, the panicked shouts of his neighbors shattered his silence and noisy thoughts: "Israeli soldiers are invading the neighborhood! Leave! Leave! Leave!"

Abo Saleh smiled bitterly. Leave? Where? Leave alone? What about Nisma? What about Lina? Salma? Where am I supposed to go?

"No! I am not leaving!" he shouted, his voice rising in defiance.

His neighbors stood in stunned silence, hanging their heads in sorrow. A mother whispered, "Forgive us, Abo Saleh. We still have our families to care for. We can’t bear it anymore. We once had a home, but now we have nothi…"

Then, an explosion rattled the ground nearby, and Abo Saleh’s body was violently thrown against a thick cement wall. “Help! Help! Hel...” he cried, his voice barely escaping.

A young soldier, no older than 20, approached him. He had white skin, green eyes, and was chewing gum..

Abo Saleh groaned in pain, still gripping Nisma's bracelet and making it closer to his heart.

The soldier laughed while kneeling beside him. “Why didn’t you leave, old man? We killed your family. Have you said goodbye to Nisma? Ha ha…”

Abo Saleh spat out in disgust, “I wish I had died before seeing you, you little scum  You make me sick.”

The soldier’s chewing grew louder, and he scowled. “How dare you?”
Abo Saleh replied, yelling in his face loudly,
"You have tried hard to silence us, but our story will survive and talk for us."

"Hah! Ha ha... your story! A childish thing... Haaaaa," the soldier burst out laughing.

Without another word, he raised his rifle and shot Abo Saleh. The soldier blew on the barrel of his gun, saying coldly, “It’s very ok. I’m just defending myself.”

From the other side of the wall, another soldier heard the shot. “Looks like the blond one killed another one,” he said to the other soldier beside him.

Then, he climbed over the wall and peered down at Abo Saleh’s lifeless body. “Poor man. Why didn’t you try to scream a little louder? Maybe we could have saved you.

His comrade answered indifferently, “So, what are we having for dinner?”

About the author

Lubna Ahmad Abu Dahrouj turned 24 years old two months into the war. She loves writing, and believes in the power of words.