Nestled in the hills near Jerash in northern Jordan lies Gaza Camp, a place that carries the weight of history and the hopes of thousands of Palestinian refugees forced there following the Israeli Occupation of Gaza in 1967.  

These are meters between life and death. Here initiates a major fight for existence – perish, or survive. Here you feel survivor’s guilt from all the massacres committed against the Palestinian civilians.

We decided to follow the forced displacement to the south in an attempt to save what is left of our lives. Per the usurper’s instructions, the safe passageway to the South is Salaheddeen St., the street that connects Gaza from the farthest point north to the south of the Strip.

I had told you before that I will narrate to you the journey to the south of the Gaza Strip. It’s not a trip; it is migration and forced, unjust displacement under fire and bombardment. Yes, that’s what it is. 

We stayed in our home until the last breath. After the world couldn’t hold us anymore, we decided to move to the hospital and I told you that story.

I swing between hope and despair, exactly as I swing between death and life. I await the next day after the war. I try to remind myself of my true identity and the true meaning of life! 

After a leap night we spent in Rafah, the last city we migrated to, actually I don’t know whether or not it will be the last stop we migrate to… doesn’t matter!

Here is Palestine, where the people of love and life reside. Here is our beloved Gaza. This is my city that I am proud of.

I believe that working in mental health is not just a job; rather an opportunity to help lift someone up from the ashes!

n these bitter times, I just finished the morning prayer and am writing to you under siege.