The 13th Day (No Electricity)

no electcity

Najlaa Ataallh
transalted from Arabic:

24 hours have passed without electricity. This is the real war. It disconnects you from everything that links you to the world. You feel that you are living with yourself and yourself only. Fear eats you from the inside as you wait for the unknown.

Is this aggression going to continue? Will it go beyond the Eid holiday?

Your mind is busy with the idea of time, and nothing else but time. With full power cut and forced disconnection from all means of communication, you’re left with one option only that is to reconcile with yourself, and fill your waiting time with hope.

All of you gather in one spot and at night, it is as if you are all one body. During the day, you leave few centimeters between one another to avoid cramps in your limbs.

You are still waiting. Your mobile phone is still working. It could probably work for one more day of sending and receiving messages before the battery completely dies.

You don’t want to answer the phone call from the Israeli Defense Force saying, “To the residents of the Shojae’ya and Zaytoon neighborhood, you are requested to evacuate your home immediately, and leave towards the middle of the city… and etc.”

You become silent but you are screaming inside, “Damn you, bastards! Where will we go? Where will we go under your gun machines, jet fighters and arsenal? Are you going to let us leave in peace? Do you want to forcibly remove us from our homes? It was not enough for you that you removed us from our homes many times in the past?”

“Who is the caller?”, your mother asked with a heart full of hope.

You reply, “Please let us evacuate.”

Your brother screams in your face, “Do we walk away?! Leave our homes for them to destroy and violate?!”

You put your head down and ask yourself, “Am I scared? Did I lose confidence in everything around me? I have no choice but to leave all my memories and history behind and run away? But if I were to flee, where would I go? Are we going to squeeze ourselves in schools? Do we wait for pity from others? Hopelessness is an agony that is greater than the agony of death.

Your phone rings again…

The same story repeats over and over again.

You smile and ask yourself again, “Does this barbaric army really worried for us? This army kills us with the idea of ​​evacuation before we get killed by its war machines. They don’t know that our homes are our lives?”

You switch off your phone and all of you gather as one to ask Almighty Allah to give you life.
24 hours have passed without electricity. This is the real war. It disconnects you from everything that links you to the world. You feel that you are living with yourself and yourself only. Fear eats you from the inside as you wait for the unknown.

Is this aggression going to continue? Will it go beyond the Eid holiday?

Your mind is busy with the idea of time, and nothing else but time. With full power cut and forced disconnection from all means of communication, you’re left with one option only that is to reconcile with yourself, and fill your waiting time with hope.

All of you gather in one spot and at night, it is as if you are all one body. During the day, you leave few centimeters between one another to avoid cramps in your limbs.

You are still waiting. Your mobile phone is still working. It could probably work for one more day of sending and receiving messages before the battery completely dies.

You don’t want to answer the phone call from the Israeli Defense Force saying, “To the residents of the Shojae’ya and Zaytoon neighborhood, you are requested to evacuate your home immediately, and leave towards the middle of the city… and etc.”

You become silent but you are screaming inside, “Damn you, bastards! Where will we go? Where will we go under your gun machines, jet fighters and arsenal? Are you going to let us leave in peace? Do you want to forcibly remove us from our homes? It was not enough for you that you removed us from our homes many times in the past?”

“Who is the caller?”, your mother asked with a heart full of hope.

You reply, “Please let us evacuate.”

Your brother screams in your face, “Do we walk away?! Leave our homes for them to destroy and violate?!”

You put your head down and ask yourself, “Am I scared? Did I lose confidence in everything around me? I have no choice but to leave all my memories and history behind and run away? But if I were to flee, where would I go? Are we going to squeeze ourselves in schools? Do we wait for pity from others? Hopelessness is an agony that is greater than the agony of death.

Your phone rings again…

The same story repeats over and over again.

You smile and ask yourself again, “Does this barbaric army really worried for us? This army kills us with the idea of ​​evacuation before we get killed by its war machines. They don’t know that our homes are our lives?”

You switch off your phone and all of you gather as one to ask Almighty Allah to give you life.

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About nataallh

"It is an attempt to be me"
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5 Responses to The 13th Day (No Electricity)

  1. rubyrites says:

    These posts are just heart wrenching for me to read. I will pray for your safety and that God may bring you strength during this time.

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