Alaa Alhattab
The Electronic Intifada / August 29, 2024
I once objected to an assignment I was given by my English literature professor.
The assignment was to record voice-overs for a video reciting lines from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.” But I didn’t really like my voice.
“Your voice is a revolution, not a shame,” my professor, the late Refaat al-Areer, said to me.
It was a concise sentence, yet it affected me deeply, both personally and professionally.
I was studying English literature at the Islamic University of Gaza – destroyed in an Israeli airstrike back in October – indulging my passion for good stories and writing.
The first lesson I learned while earning a bachelor’s degree was that literature reflected human nature, thought and feeling.
Having a calm personality, I always find my tranquility in being tight-lipped. Thus, I am used to writing to express, resist, touch and change.
My first published writing, during my third year at university, came when I collaborated on “Paper Boats Zine,” a book written by 17 talented writers from Gaza and Salt Lake City and published by Printed Matter in New York. This success paved the path for me to specialize in content writing and copywriting.
“What is the next step, Alaa,” I asked myself as I readied to graduate on 7 December 2021. I decided to break into the freelance world and enrolled in the Go Digital project, which involved translation and content writing training at the Business and Technology Incubator (BTI) at the Islamic University.
I adored it. Every moment was full of inspiration and accomplishment.
To-do list
During the course, I participated in a contest organized by We Are Not Numbers. It involved writing a narrative about a personal experience in the Israeli war on Gaza in 2021.
My narrative, entitled “The Crack in the Ceiling of My Room Gets Longer Every War,” was named one of the 10 best in the contest.
“I am proud of you,” Dr. Refaat, always so present, even for former students, messaged me.
I used to work remotely in the well-equipped workspaces at BTI. All a freelancer needed was available there, including fast internet, constant electricity (a luxury in Gaza where we used to count on no more than six to eight hours of electricity in any 24 hour period, itself a luxury today, when we have none), a comfortable environment, and passionate conversations.
It is the second warm home that I yearn for today
I was preparing my to-do list on 7 October 2023. and had downloaded it, including my work schedule, content writing course preparation, and, most important, plans for a gathering with my dearest friend, Aseel, who was to leave Gaza to be with her fiancé in Belgium.
(She did eventually, during the Israeli genocide. By that time it was impossible to say goodbye. Or even hug.)
But that day, the sound of explosions suddenly shook everywhere in Gaza. My to-do list – and my life – changed, tragically and irrevocably.
On 7 December 2023, the Israeli military assassinated Dr. Refaat not long after he shared his poem “If I Must Die” on social media as a last will of sorts.
Dr. Refaat was not only an English literature and poetry professor, and a translation and content writing instructor at the Islamic University of Gaza, as well as being a storyteller and resistance voice; he was also my role model. He always encouraged me to write and let my talents shine.
I did not learn about his killing until 15 March. I had been completely disconnected from the internet. The Israeli military has targeted Gaza’s civil telecommunication infrastructure from the beginning.
It was my friend Abeer who told me that my former professor had been killed along with his brother, sister and four of his sister’s children.
Campaign to silence us
In the corner of the tent I am forced to live in, I wept silently. I recalled Dr Refaat’s genius, creativity, stories, support, kindness, generosity, smile and sense of humor, with the list of his attributes and what he meant to me seemingly endless.
“When grief invades our souls,” I wrote at the time, “when grief steps on our tolerance and kills our desires, memories alleviate pains; they are the warmth and the balm in moments of loneliness. Memories are our devastated selves’ refuge from life’s blows.”
Israel’s savage war on Gaza involves systematically targeting experts and academics.
This is an attempt at silencing Gaza.
It involves targeting technicians trying to keep the internet on in Gaza. According to The New York Times Israeli airstrikes have killed at least two Paltel Group staff who were repairing damaged infrastructure to re-connect Gaza with the world.
Paltel is the telecommunications company that operates infrastructure in Gaza. A total of 16 of the Group’s employees have died since the Israeli attacks began, The New York Times reported.
And it involves silencing those voices who speak out with the greatest clarity and the greatest urgency against Israel’s genocide, its occupation and its 76 years of violations of international law and international humanitarian law.
This is not new. The Israeli writer Ronen Bergman, revealed, in his book “Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel’s Targeted Assassinations,” that since the 1950s, Israeli security agencies have assassinated more than 2,700 scientists, politicians, writers, thinkers and artists, mostly Palestinians.
But for every voice they silence, more begin to speak out.
I see and feel Dr Refaat in each and every student and trainee he taught and in every story he told and wrote. He is alive and will always be an endless source of inspiration.
And the brave technical crew members have succeeded in getting many areas in the north and south of the Gaza Strip back online, refusing to allow Gaza to go black and giving hope to thousands of freelancers to return to working remotely despite the imperfect surroundings.
Back to work
For months I have been living in a tent in the rural Al-Zawayda area. There are barely any civil services, let alone much by way of internet access, leaving my attempts at returning to work frustrated.
However, a friend messaged me to say he had heard about a workspace called Dair Hub in Deir al-Balah city. I did not think twice about going there and returning to my work.
It’s a long walk under a burning sun just to find something to hitch a ride on. Usually I can find an animal-drawn cart to take me to Deir al-Balah.
But whether on cart or on foot, everyone must pass over a swamp of sewage water flooding College Street, near the Palestine Technical College that is now a place of shelter for thousands of displaced people.
It is a heartbreaking scene. Every day, I see people suffering in the worn-out tents that is their only shelter, often in deeply polluted places where sewage water flows freely in the streets. People spend hours under the sun trying to secure some water, hours searching through rubbish for cartons or other flammable material to set a fire to cook with.
There is misery everywhere. But it only strengthens my resolve to amplify people’s voices in Gaza.
I remember the massacres caused by Israel’s indiscriminate shelling on the Khadija and Ahmed al-Kurd schools on 27 July.
Both schools are near the Dair hub, which shook when the bombs struck and bits of the ceiling fell on my head. My colleagues all huddled at the door to see where the bombardment was. We could clearly see the plumes of smoke in the sky.
Can you imagine my psychological state? How can anyone focus on work in such circumstances?
At least I’ve survived so far. I wish I could say the same for some of my colleagues.
Hassan Tabasi was an ambitious freelancer who joined me on a digital marketing training program. During the training, he was employed by a company in the Gulf.
Israel killed him and his dream in Rafah.
I met Mahmoud Abu Shawish during organizing activities for the Hult Prize. Mahmoud was energetic and creative and helped me improve my problem-solving skills. He co-founded Torood, a company for logistics and delivery services that achieved remarkable success in a short time.
Israel killed him, but both his idea and his company live on.
Haitham Nabaheen was considered one of the most skilled programming engineers in Gaza who had made significant contributions to IT companies locally and internationally.
Israel killed him with his family. But I am convinced others will follow his path.
These are just a few examples of the more than 40,000 who have been killed so far. None of them are mere numbers; their dreams and stories must be told and retold.
I realize now why Refaat wanted me to speak out and let my voice be heard. It is my mission to raise mine and my people’s voices to deny occupation and oppression.
A revolution can be ignited with just a word.
Alaa Alhattab is a writer in Gaza
