Adapting to a new shelter Mar 31, 2024
Adapting to a new shelter
26 th January – I opened my eyes at sunrise, weariness gnawing at my mind and soul. Yesterday’s evacuation journey had been so terrifying that I wanted to bury it deep beneath the layers of grim memories. Leaving behind the people I had lived with for more than three months weighed heavily on my heart.
Unlike an early bird, I had never been one to rise with the sun. My mother suffered as she coaxed me out of bed every day for school. But where am I now? The unfamiliar surroundings puzzled me. As I widened my eyes, the dim light revealed a small kitchen. Tiny shapes moved about like bees, their incessant noise—sobs, screams, and nagging—forming an unharmonious melody that burrowed deep into my tired head.
“Where am I?” I wondered aloud. Suddenly, a heavy foot stepped on mine, eliciting a suppressed scream of pain. My eyes widened further, almost popping out of my head. Slowly, my idle brain pieced together the scene. This was where I had ended up after evacuating from Khan Younis—a village house occupied by a mass of people who had sought refuge since October 13th. Now, I lay here, an unwanted burden, wrapped in my blanket, in the corridor leading to the kitchen!
The moving shapes came into focus, my little cousins, the babies of my aunts, and other relatives—all fleeing the terror raining down from the sky. Oh, God! I pulled the blanket over my head, desperate to block out the morning cacophony. It felt as tormenting as the relentless bombardment. Suffocating, I tried to remove the blanket wrapped around my head. My legs, stretched out in the cramped space leading to the kitchen, a small space used by many. I retracted them, acknowledging my sin of blocking the way leading to the kitchen.
And then it occurred—an ear-splitting explosion reverberated, and the ground quaked with vibrations. The tiny figures dashed out of the kitchen, their cries blending with their mothers’ shouts, marking the start of a fresh chapter of terror.