I applied in secret for a scholarship to a Turkish university in 2017. Even after I was accepted, I did not immediately inform my parents. I lived in Gaza, in the heart of Gaza City, a city I had never left, like my parents.
Growing up as one of the two million people imprisoned in the Gaza Strip causes one to become bored with everything. Then, when you decide to leave, it becomes incredibly difficult. You are leaving the place you have lived your entire life, together with your family and friends, unsure of whether you will ever be able to return.
I received great grades in school. My parents warned me that studying politics could be dangerous, so I decided to switch to multimedia design and programming instead. I became proficient in coding and participated in hackathons.
On a nightly basis, I would converse with folks from around the globe online. This is how I acquired English, in addition to viewing subtitled Ted Talks. But my interest remained in international relations, which I believed I could use in the future to assist my country.
When I eventually informed my parents that I had been awarded the scholarship, they were reluctant to let me leave. My father worked for an electrical engineering company, while my mother attended and graduated from college while raising us (I am one of six children).
Although I believe my parents are more tolerant than many in Gaza City, they still did not want me to leave. My grandfather backed me up. He spoke with my parents and advised them that it would be unwise for me to turn down the opportunity.
Due to Israel’s restrictions, very few individuals are permitted to leave Gaza, so I had to ask for permission; my departure was scheduled for June of that year, but it took the Israeli government six months to accept my departure.
The most difficult aspect was leaving my family. It was my first time away from them, and I was 19 years old. My family was not permitted to accompany me to the border, so I had to leave them in the city before taking a bus there. It felt unreal, as I had never even considered leaving the Strip in my wildest dreams.
I was one of perhaps twenty students who left Gaza. We departed at 6 a.m. After traveling via Israel, we arrived in Jordan at 2:00 a.m. the following day. It was a very long and difficult day of checks, interrogations, and humiliations, during which I questioned whether I was doing the right thing.
We were required to pass via the Palestinian Authority crossing first. The guards posed queries such as “What are your intentions?” while knowing they knew everything about me. It made me feel uncomfortable.
When we arrived at the Israeli checkpoints, I saw Israeli soldiers for the first time. I was terrified. My mother had made me sandwiches, which were discarded alongside the mug I had brought.
At the next checkpoint, we were scanned with a body scanner. I was with a girl whose head scarf concealed quite long hair. The Israeli officers did not trust that her hair was her own, so they forced her to remove her scarf.
Then, when they began to play with her hair, she began to cry. I realize that they wanted to verify her identity, but was it necessary to humiliate her? After they removed our luggage for inspection, I discovered that they had gone through my wallet and scribbled and drew on the bills.
At one point, some of the enthusiastic pupils began taking photographs. The soldiers shouted at them in Hebrew before placing them in an interrogation room. We were terrified because if they detained these few, we would all be detained as well. When they emerged, we informed them that their actions were foolish.
At every checkpoint, there was the possibility of being arrested or denied exit. Even though I was bombarded with inquiries, I attempted to maintain my silence and respond with the bare minimum. What will you be studying? Describe your Facebook account. Why do you speak English so well?
Despite my experiences in Gaza, which included three military operations, I viewed Israeli soldiers as human beings and did not harbor any animosity toward them. I believed they would treat me as a person in return, but I felt like an item, a potentially dangerous “thing” from Gaza.
They kept their distance by hiding behind bulletproof glass. In Jordan, the situation was identical. There was only one opportunity for Palestinians to get their passports examined, and we waited several hours.
Leaving Gaza altered my life. Now, I am a whole different person. People there are unaware of what is occurring in the rest of the globe. Even though they are exposed to media, films, and books, this is insufficient.
Since there are no foreigners in Gaza, I could only communicate with them online. Now I have a more open mind, am more worldly, and have been exposed to various cultures. I am liberated. In Gaza, we are not only subject to a siege, but the community also exerts a great deal of pressure on you by evaluating and discussing you.
This year, I will complete my bachelor’s degree, and I am interested in pursuing a master’s degree in conflict management. I feel horrible for abandoning my family. With each assault on Gaza, I fear for their lives.
When my grandfather, who supported my desire to leave, passed away, I was unable to attend. During last year’s air attacks, I yearned to return to Gaza. I believed that I would prefer to die with my parents than to be in Turkey and see the news.
I’ve learned that there is always a price to pay. Should I forego spending time with my family for my future, or should I forego my future for my family and friends? I pay more attention to my mind than to my heart. Every day, I communicate with my mother, who inquires about my impending return. If I had a future in Gaza, I would move there. However, I could not leave again.
