I Joined Gaza’s Trail of Tears And Displacement

IT WAS THURSDAY night when we started to negotiate. Do we need to evacuate to the south or not? The F-16s did not leave the sky, the bombing did not stop, the live ammunition was very close. The sky was foggy, gas bombs and white phosphorus filled the sky. It was hard for us to even breathe.

Our job is to document the war, to let the world know what is happening. How could we leave? For hours, we asked the question. I had a headache from overthinking. 

“What if they kill us? What if they arrest us?” one guy asked. 

“I am not leaving, I prefer dying here,” another said. 

“We should leave, we have kids and families.”

“We did everything we can. We reported everything.” 

Despite the sound of the bombs, I urged myself to sleep. I wondered if this might be my last night in the office, my last night in the city.