Once we have been kids, my siblings and I repeatedly spent our pocket cash on new books. Our mom had instilled in us a passionate love for books. Studying wasn’t only a pastime; it was a way of life.
I nonetheless keep in mind the day our dad and mom shocked us with a house library. It was a tall and huge piece of furnishings with plenty of cabinets that they’d positioned in the lounge. I used to be simply 5 years previous, however I recognised the sacredness of its nook from the very first second.
My father was decided to fill the cabinets with quite a lot of books—on philosophy, faith, politics, languages, science, literature, and so on. He needed to have a wealth of books that might compete with the native library.
My dad and mom would typically take us to the bookshop connected to the Samir Mansour Library, one among Gaza’s most iconic bookshops. We’d be allowed to select as much as seven books every.
Our colleges nurtured this love for studying as effectively, organising visits to guide gala’s, studying golf equipment, and dialogue panels.
Our residence library grew to become our pal, our solace in each warfare and peace, and our lifeline on these darkish, haunting nights lit solely by bombs. Gathered round fireplace pits, we might talk about the works of Ghassan Kanafani and recite the poems of Mahmoud Darwish we had memorised from books in our library.
When the genocide began in October 2023, the blockade on Gaza was tightened to an insufferable stage. Water, gasoline, medicines, and nutritious meals have been minimize off.
When fuel ran out, folks began burning no matter they might discover: wooden from the rubble of properties, tree branches, trash … after which books.
Amongst our family members, this primary occurred to my brother’s household. My nephews, heavy-hearted, sacrificed their educational future: they burned their freshly printed schoolbooks—whose ink hadn’t even dried — so their household might put together a meal. The very books that after fed their minds now fed the flames, all for survival.
I used to be appalled on the guide burning, however my 11-year-old nephew Ahmed confronted me with the fact. “Both we starve to demise, or we fall into illiteracy. I select to reside. Schooling might be resumed later,” he mentioned. His reply shook me to the core.
Once we ran out of fuel, I insisted that we purchase wooden, despite the fact that its value was skyrocketing. My father tried to persuade me: “As soon as the warfare is over, I’ll purchase you all of the books you need. However allow us to use these for now.” I nonetheless refused.
These books had borne witness to our ups and downs, our tears and our laughter, our successes and our setbacks. How might we presumably burn them? I began rereading a few of our books — as soon as, twice, thrice — memorising their covers, their titles, even the precise variety of pages, burying in them my concern that our library may be the following sacrifice.
In January, after a short lived truce was concluded, cooking fuel was lastly allowed into Gaza. I breathed a sigh of reduction, considering that my books and I had survived this holocaust.
Then in early March, the genocide resumed. All humanitarian assist was blocked: no meals, no medical provides, and no gasoline might enter. We ran out of fuel in lower than three weeks. The complete blockade and the large bombardment made it inconceivable to search out every other supply of gasoline for cooking.
I had no alternative however to concede. Standing earlier than our library, I reached for the worldwide human rights regulation volumes. I made a decision they needed to go first. We have been taught these authorized norms in school, we have been made to imagine that our rights as Palestinians have been assured by them and that at some point, they might result in our liberation.
And but, these worldwide legal guidelines by no means protected us. We’ve got been deserted to genocide. Gaza has been teleported to a different ethical dimension — the place there is no such thing as a worldwide regulation, no ethics, no worth for human life.
I tore these pages into bits, recalling how numerous households had been torn to items by bombs, similar to that. I fed the torn pages to the flames, watching them flip to mud — an anguished providing in reminiscence of those that had been burned alive: Shaban al-Louh, who burned alive when Al-Aqsa Hospital was attacked, journalist Ahmed Mansour, who burned alive when a press tent was attacked, and numerous others whose names we are going to by no means know.
Subsequent, we burned all of the pharmacology books and summaries belonging to my brother, a pharmacology graduate. We cooked our canned meals over the ashes of his years of onerous work. Nonetheless, it was not sufficient. The siege grew extra suffocating and the fires devoured shelf after shelf of books. My brother insisted on burning his favorite books earlier than touching any of mine.
However there was no hiding from the inevitable. We have been quickly right down to my books. I used to be pressured to burn my treasured collections of Mahmoud Darwish’s poetry; the novels of Gibran Khalil Gibran; the poems of Samih al-Qasim, the voice of resistance; the novels of Abdelrahman Munif that I held pricey; and the Harry Potter novels that I had spent my teenage studying. Then got here my medical books and summaries.
Whereas I stood there watching the flames eat them, my coronary heart burned as effectively. We tried to make the sacrifice really feel worthy — cooking a extra delicious meal: pasta with bechamel sauce.
I believed that was the height of my sacrifice, however my father went additional. He dismantled the library’s cabinets to burn as wooden.
I managed to save lots of 15 books. These are historical past books in regards to the Palestinian trigger, the tales of our ancestors, and the books belonging to my grandmother, who was ruthlessly killed throughout this genocide.
Existence is resistance; these books are my proof that my household has at all times existed right here, in Palestine, that now we have at all times been the homeowners of this land.
Genocide has pushed us to do issues we by no means imagined in our darkest nightmares. It pressured us to mutilate our recollections and break the unbreakable, all for survival.
But when we survive — if we survive — we are going to rebuild. We may have a brand new residence library and fill it once more with the books we love.
The views expressed on this article are the creator’s personal and don’t essentially replicate Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
