The blog, however, has been moved to a new website, same blog, same posts, same everything, except for the new look and a few more things I hope you all will love.

Kindly, follow the link below.

http://www.sigaza.com/

Sincerely,
Nader K.

من خلف شاشتي الصغيرة أتكلم. حاكماً بالأعمال الشاقة مؤبداً على أناملي التي لم تكل ولم تتعب من الكتابة على لوحة المفاتيح منذ أن كنت في السادسة من عمري. شاشتي الصغيرة التي لطالما كانت نافذتي على العالم، أتعرف على ذاك وتلك وأكون العلاقات الاجتماعية مع من أرى في طريقي فاتحاً عيني على العالم من حولي، عالمٌ لم أكن أعلم عنه إلا القليل.

لا أنكر بأني عرفت العديد من الفتيات الحسناوات من مختلف بقاع الأرض. لا أنكر بأني عشقت العشرات، السمراوات والشقراوات، متوسطات الطول وطويلات، من هنا وهناك، من بين سطور رواياتٍ أكلها الغبار على المكتب، من بين العديد من الأشياء. الكثير منها. أحببتهن كلهن، أحببت أولهن أكثر، وأحببت آخرهن بجنون، بل أحببتهن كلهن مع تفاوت الدرجات بين الإعجاب والحب والهذيان.

مازلت أستيقظ كل صباح مهيئاً بأنني سمعت ضحكة أحداهن التي لطالما اشتقت لسماعها، وأرى صورهن جميعاً مبستمات، فقط لأجلي. لا أزال ذلك الشخص الذي عرفته هذه الفتاة، تلك وتلك، وتلك أيضاً. أرفع سماعة الهاتف لأحادثها عما يجول في خاطري وخلجات قلبي. لازلت ذلك الشخص صاحب الابتسامة المعهودة، تلك الابتسامة التي لطالما كانت مصدر الأمل والسعادة للآخرين

أقابل فتاةً ما في مكانِ ما، على الإنترنت، وتختلف البداية حسب المكان. تختلف البدايات وكذلك النهايات. لكن ما بينهما هو نفس القصة في كل مرة، النظرة فالابتسامة يبتعها مصافحة أو سلام فكلمة فابتسامة، تبدأ قصة إعجابٍ مسطورة بماء الذهب، لتنتهي بدموعٍ وعذاب فحرقٌ للذكريات. ونبقي حفنة منها، لأسبابٍ عدة. فمضمون القصة غالباً مألوف لمن عاشوت التجربة مرةً، إن لم تكن عشرات أو ربما مئات المرات.

“أنتي غيرهم” كلمة لطالما سمعتها الفتيات من الحسناوات وغيرهن، فالجميع لديه بالتأكيد تجاربه الخاصة، ولكنهن كلهن، قفلٌ واحد بعدة أشكال. وحديثٌ من القلب إلى القلب يدور بينهما ويزداد حبهما لبعضهما، مما سيزيد من أضرار ما بعد الحب. يتقابلان من خلال شاشةٍ صغيرة، التي تعددت اسخداماتها واحجامها، مع أن العديد يستعملها لنفس الهدف، يتكبون ما جال ببالهم من كلام وما بقلوبهم من مشاعر وأحاسيس، متخطيين الحواجز والحدود. يلتقيان خفيةً في مكان ما لدقائق معدودة، يلمس يدها فتبتسم له، ويبدأ ذلك الشعور الغريب بالتسلل الى قلبهما، يحاول جاهداً أن يجعل حياتها مستحيلةً وكئيبةً بدونه.

ذلك ما يصبو إليه العديد، أن يرى كنوزها، تضاريس جسدها التي أخفتها ملابسها التي تترك معالهم أنوثتها لمن يراها في الشارع، أن يصل إلي سروالها الداخلي، حينها، تتغير معالم وصفات ما كان يربطهما من حب، وتصبح كلها من أجل الشهوة فقط، نفس الشهوة التي أودت بالعديد العديد من الأشياء.

شاب آخر يلتقي بحسناء، ويأخذهما الوقت ويتحدثان أكثر، هو يريدها، وهي .. لم يخطر ببالها قط، حتى أنها بالكاد تتذكر ما يجول بينهما من حديت عبر تلك الشاشة. يصبح الشاب حينها العاشق الولهان والشخص الذي لا يستطيع أن يجلس بعيداً عن تلك الشاشة مترقباً تحركاتها منتظراً أي إشارة بأنها خلف الشاشة، ليشفي قلبه بالحديث معها أو حتى بأن يسمع صوت ضحكتها الرنان، أن يشعر بذلك الأحساس الذي يهيأ له بأنه لم يشعر به من قبل.

تمضي الأيام ولايزال هو عند حبه لها، هي تعلم علم اليقين أنه يحبها ولكن، اللعب بقلوب الرجال حرفتها. تحاول بطريقة ما أن تجعله يحبها، بل يعشقها، وعندما تراه عالقاً في شباكها، أحبته، أو ابتدعت بأنها تحبه. ماهي إلا أيام ويسقط كل شئ في الهاوية. كل تلك المشاعر الجياشة، كل ذلك الحب، كل ما كان في السابق طول تلك الفترة محسوس أو غير محسوس، طويت في ذاكرة الماضي الأليم. تركته لأنها لم تعد تحبه، ذلك ليس بعذرٍ بالنسبة إليه، يحاول جاهداً أن يعرف السبب الحقيقي خلف ذلك مهدراً الكثير من الوقت والجهد. بالنسبة لها ذلك كل ما تملك من إجابات، “لم أعد أحبك”. تبدأ مرحلة العذاب والدموع، يكاد الرجل فيها أن ينسا بأنه كان قد عاش بشكل طبيعي قبلها وذلك ما سيحدث بعدها. الحب الأول، هو حبٌ يدوم إلى الأبد، ولا أحد ممكن خاض تلك التجربة يستطيع ان ينكر ذلك.

نلتقي العديد من الفتيات من خلال هذه الشاشة، نعجب بالعديد منهن-إن لم يكن كلهن- ونحب بعضهن-أن لم يكن كلهن- نقس القصة تماماً تحدث خلف كل شاشة هنا وهناك. يعجب بها ويحبها لدرجة الشغف، لدرجةٍ بات التعبير عن حبه لها بالكلمات بات مستحيلاً فيلجأ لاستعمال خياله الواسع متمنياً أن تكون بجانبه.

لا أنكر أني أحببت، أني عشقت عشرات الحسناوات، أحببت قهوتي وسيجارتي، أحببت العتمة ووحدتي، أنا والحسناء وحدنا ولا أحد سوانا. أعجبت بهذه وتلك، احببت تلك الشقراء، عشقت السمراء ذات الشعر المخمري، وتلك البيضاء ذات الوجنة الذهبية، والقمحية ذات العيون العيون السوداء التي لطالما تذكرت ليلي الحالك وحيداً بدون إحداهن.

I have always considered my dad as my hero, a person I have always wanted to be like when I grow to become a father, a person I have always loved. My mom too, who still supports me, knowing how to make me smile, a person I’ve always wanted my wife to be like, loving, caring, sensitive, and beautiful.

I step into my room, close the door, and my world starts up. Another electric shortage, I light my candle, and play a good piano track I have always loved to listen to. I stare at this white blank page, wondering, asking myself so many questions.

I write to vent. I write because, it’s my passion. I write because, it’s my only way out. I write because I can’t do anything better than this. I write to share and because, I can’t keep this in my chest for long.

Here comes a night. A night one the sort I have always hated. A night that has never ended but with me being really sad, really shattered. Shattered thoughts, and memories.

The piano track has always moved me, and I always find it touching, reminding me of many things, awakening the good in me, and awakening the feeling of something of which I have not known a name.

A tsunami of feelings generated by raging thoughts, causing my heart to ache, and my tears to touch my bearded cheeks. Despite the fact that I have my down moments, but I have always been known for my bright smile, spreading love and hope around me, and those who have had heart-to-heart conversations with me are the ones who feel this the most.

I came back home, pissed off at how has life been recently, so tight, so unfair, so hopeless, yet food was the only thing I could think of right now. There was dad, mom, my sister, and I. Dad recognizes how pissed off and tired I am by the look of my face, and storms me with a thousand questions, not leaving me space to think nor answer.

Minutes later, dad loses hope and leaves the kitchen, and I start complaining to my mother about everything, and how I hate life being this way. Mom couldn’t really help, she just smiled, put her hand on my shoulder, looked at me in the eye and said, “Everything is going to be OK, son. Have faith”, then left the kitchen.

My sister has always been a venting space to me, she knows me good enough that she can tell me about what’s in my heart without me talking about it. It was too soon after my mom had left before I exploded, and talked my heart and mind out.

It was too pissed and angry to even recognize how bad was what I said, that it even attracted my dad back again to the kitchen telling my sister to leave me alone. Dad never knew that my sister was there for me to listen, telling her that she only makes me blaze even more, which pissed me off, to be honest.

I complained about how and why do those who seem to have no chance in anything at all manage to get everything done in no time because of something I’ve always hated, favoritism, not forgetting that what happens here is nothing different of what happens any where on earth.

I have achieved nothing, comparing to the majority of those I know. All of that is because I don’t go for favoritism. That has been one of the main reasons of me not getting me a real job, or even a scholarship, back from 2005 till this very moment.

My uncles, and aunts, and even close friends who managed to travel out of Gaza, couldn’t help me find a master’s degree scholarship. I have heard a million excuses, but I believed none. I guess there’s no benefit from helping me travel and get my master’s degree, no benefit to anyone, but me.

I can’t do more than be grateful to those who have tried to help me with that, not forgetting that those who did, are ones I have never met in life, ones I met on twitter.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and to you, I forever will be grateful. You have always been good friends, and always will.

I hope I can pay you back for all what you have done for me so far. One day we’ll meet in life and hopefully be able to pay back for a little at least.

Nader K.

It was very calm yesterday, and I was enjoying the relaxing music as I was sipping my regular mug of coffee. I was full of inspiration that moment, I grabbed my pen and a paper, and started sketching, trying to understand what’s going on within my mind. I couldn’t come up with anything understandable as I sketched, even I myself, couldn’t understand what’s on my mind.

What I know is how it felt; it was like if I was on an adrenaline rush, eyes wide open as if I was afraid of something or sensing a surrounding danger, over a billion thought raging within my mind.

A few minutes later, I stopped sketching; I gave up on that because it wasn’t getting me anywhere that’s when I opened my word processing application and all I could do was stare at the empty white page thinking of a way to break the silence around me with the sound of my fingers playing on the keyboard like a pianist playing his favorite piece.

A few minutes later I managed to break the silence with one sentence, thoughts got suspended by a call, hung up, and started staring at the same white page again thinking of what to write next, it was too soon, it happened the moment I started to write my first letter unleashing my thoughts and emotions that run through my veins to my fingers bursting with rapid key presses generating a new post similar to the ones you’ve always been reading here on my blog. It was an explosion!

I’ve heard thousands of explosions before, close and far, but this one was different, I literally jumped off my chair, the explosion was too loud that I could even hear it while I had my headset on playing music. Too strong that I could feel every thing shaking around me, as if it was an earthquake, not forgetting goose pumps too.

It’s one of the times my heart beats race, and I feel like my heart is in my throat. And I start paying attention to every sound around me, as I hear the Israeli Apaches and F16s roam in the liberated Gazan skies, throwing a party of their own, on our land, fireworks, explosions, fire, and blood.

Of course, I lost my inspiration, and felt completely lost. Then, out of no where, I started writing this post, I decided to write how it felt, putting every body in the picture, so that they at least would know how it feels to be here, without having to experience all that. Although experiencing something isn’t like hearing about it. To each his own, and so are opinions and points of view.

I started to feel the same feeling again, when this quiet night started, a strong adrenaline rush, and the urge to write. So I started tweeting breaking news, and keeping everybody updated, as everybody showed solidarity as Gaza Strip was being raided by the Israeli air force that doesn’t differ between a civilian or a militant, to them, we’re all the same, Palestinians.

As you all know, the early-morning raid on Gaza Strip resulted the burn of a medical warehouse, and a nearby carpentry, leaving 10-11 casualties behind. This is what you would think is the sum of the loss for tonight’s raid, but thinking about it again, despite of how much money did the owner(s) of the warehouse and the carpentry lose, think of what did at least 2-4 families loose. 10-11 casualties, imagine how many families depend on these casualties’ jobs and afford the living fees, being a casualty could mean that there’s a possibility to die, live with a disability, or even take so much time before you can completely recover and be able to find a job to pay for living fees and bills.

It’s very sad when you think about all that, and happy you’re not the casualty of tonight’s raid. It’s very sad when you realize how bad some people live, not being able to live in apartments, or even have electricity. Could you imagine living with no electricity? No Internet? Not even a TV? Well that’s the least you could imagine. I am leaving the imagining door wide open for you, imagine how bad things are, and most importantly, we’re still happy, we live, love, and laugh, we sacrifice, we resist.

All of that because we exist, because it’s our land, the holy land, and it’s our duty to fight.

Nader K.

Neither I nor anybody else can deny the fact that I have been writing very sharp lately. Truth is, as you all know, I write because it’s my passion. I write to show what is it to be Gazan, and we, Gazans, are human beings, we live, love, feel sad and depressed. We, Gazans, have feelings too, just like you do.

My recent two posts were very angry and furious, I know I have used strong language because I have been really bothered and I hated the fact that such thoughts are actually occupying a big part of my mind, and my time.

Most of you are probably wondering what this post is going to be about, and I hereby would like to thank each and every one contributed, in a way or another, whether by verbal support, emails, comments, DM, and tweets. You people are the best and I could never, no matter what, have better friends and readers than you all.

I have been writing very sharply recently, reflecting a real part of my life, writing down what goes on in my mind, trying to vent, I always write to vent, and this is because life in Gaza isn’t normal, compared to life anywhere outside, on the other side of the borders.

Because I write with all honesty, and I never hesitate or think twice before writing and sharing whatever goes on my mind, some people have been bothered with that. People I have always loved and cared about. People I’ve always regarded to as friends and family.

I guess being too much honest and clear, and writing whatever crosses my mind doesn’t seem to be liked by many. I know I shouldn’t listen to them, I know I shouldn’t feel down at all no matter what anybody says, and I know that I have to take all of this as a stronger motivation to write sharper and with extreme honesty because the main objective of this blog is to vent and let people know what’s going on in Gaza, from my personal point of view.

In my two most recent posts, I talked about the types of people I met, and talked about my own point of view about that not hiding a word at all. What hurts the most is that many of those I have always regarded as close friends have been misunderstanding me to the fact that I had to go through endless problems and arguing ending up losing them.

It’s sad how honestly and clarity in writing is being misunderstood especially by the close ones, what’s sadder, is losing them at the end of the road because of that.

I know that I have been really sharp and angry in writing recently, but I hope you all understand that the main reason behind all that was because I’ve been really depressed, sad, and in a total shock of disbelief of what has been happening recently.

I guess the more haters I get, the more lovers I get, and the more motivation to write. Good news is, I’ll still write honest and clear, like I used to. I believe that many people do actually like what I write regardless of the category I write under.

I won’t stop writing, and may the number of the haters increase, because if this means anything, it means that I’m very successful at what I do best, writing. I’ll always be the same person you once knew. I shall be that till the day I die.

Love and respect.

Nader K.

What happens in life is real and it never leaves anyone alone. Not even the loneliest ever known in the history of mankind. I watch people around me deal with life matters as I drink my cup of coffee, a cup of bitter liquid that has never been bitter than life.

I still wonder whether it’s life that’s disappointing, or people who live around me are. In my life, I’ve met a lot of wonderful people who keep on supporting me when I’m down and encourage me to beat hardships and go on with my life like nothing happened, well, I learn my lesson after all.

I have been through so much for a normal person to handle or even live with, in spite of all of that, still do I manage to show a smile on my face, and try hard to laugh as much as I can. Simple because, “life is too short, and you only have one life to live”.

There have been many negotiations with different parties trying to draw a less disappointing and depressing way for me to walk in. From a realistic point of view, every time I thought that I could see the light at the end of the way I take I come to realize that it’s the light of a train coming towards me from the other end.

I have lately come to a realization that no matter how people try to make you feel better, if you can’t help yourself making that, then you have come to the ultimate failure.

Failure after failure after another, and yet you strive to score a homerun with one small success, as a way of trying to erase an equal failure. Then you score a chain of success, which will be a reason to make you cheer up, only temporarily.

During your lifetime, you meet many types of people, the caretaker, the lover, the ambitious, the fixer, the annoyer, the liar, the wannabe, the faker, and the list goes on forever.

I have met many types of these, and every time I uncover a faker/loser/wannabe person my life gets better. Such people can be classified as a “Hypocritical Waste of Skin”. Such people consume air, food, and space they don’t deserve, I wonder how do they keep on living; I guess they’re parasitic.

Nader K.

Most of you reading so far probably don’t know what’s the reason behind all of this, and that’s going on with me with this so-called life. For that, allow me to introduce the new me, and don’t rush it, it’s just a matter of time before you realize who’s the new me is going to be.

Nobody can deny the fact that life is full of ups and downs, u smile for a minute, and you frown for an hour. This is pretty normal in such a world we live in, and if you deny that, I guess you’re not one of us, humans.

I am angry. I am fed up. I am mad. And I’ve had enough. For how long this suffering will last? And what’s next? I’ve always been asking myself such questions, and the answers are yet to be found.

Let’s put a few things straight and deal with this because it’s too late (isn’t it too late already?). Love is about sharing, caring, understanding, and whatever crosses your mind as you’re reading this.

But when love turns out to be nothing more than greed, selfishness, and on top of that, STALKING the one you love/like this becomes totally creepy. NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE has the right to ask you for whatever or however you spend your time of what do you do with your own money, time, and/or body. All these three are yours, and it’s only God who’ll be asking you why and how did you do all of what you’ve done so far.

So please, if you’re loving that way, keep it to yourself, and keep me out of this creepy so-called whatever you call it because I am no longer interested and it no longer matters.

On the other side, people have been striving to lie to everybody around, even those very close. So if you love someone, or even yourself. STOP LYING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, stop lying to all of those people including yourself, stop trying to look so different than what you really are. Stop dreaming and making everybody believe that you’re actually someone different and you’re so not.

And now, I take out a cigarette out of the pack, light it, and sip my strong Turkish coffee that no matter how bitter it tastes, it’s nothing compared to the bitter taste of life.

I publish the post, and start writing another post.

Nader K.

This is what it feels like not being able to sleep at night, as explosions happen by the heartbeat, being able to hear the tanks half a kilometer away from home, the voices of martyrs as their souls leave their bodies, see the wounded crawling for help, and the Apaches firing missiles on people, houses, and whatever that moves within shooting range.

I lived all of this, all of it and still do I struggle, face the fear in me, and stand my ground. But sometimes, I’m back to my normal state, at which I’m sad and heartbroken seeing all of them around me, smiling, living.
I shout, I shout, but nobody’s home, I look deep inside and start to doubt whether it were them or me.
Then I start asking myself, “Should I change like they did? Or did they change to the level that I’m no longer at the same level they’re at? Is it I? Or them? Or is it both of us?” I can’t figure out which party did change, and why do I keep resisting *sigh*.

I just want you to know why, many tried to help, movements, organizations, and even individuals all came to the same result, all became in vain.
Yet do I keep looking for the answers, and opening up a thousand new questions along, yet again, still do I think it’s time I change while the voices in my head tell me not to, they talk to me, understands me, and tell me what to do.

I look around and I start to feel so alone, so left out to the fact that it’s no longer where I belong. I close my eyes, and make duaas in my head asking Allah (swt) to help me be patient enough and deal with hardships in ease.

I open my eyes to find myself shocked by how fast people have changed, the thing that makes all my plans absolutely useless, and then I think it’s time I start planning again from the scratch.
See, you meet people who play roles in your life, in a way or another, those you love at first sight, and those you cant stand by the look of their eyes, so wolfish, so uncomfortable to accompany, and no matter how much you try to avoid them, they become closer faster then you expect.

You wake up then, to find yourself in a totally different world, and it mixes up on you to the fact that you can’t tell whether you’re living a dream or reality, then all what you’ve seen before replays, same characters, same scenario, same everything even the voices you heard in your head, they tell you the same.

In the end, you meet some who hold you close to their heart promising you that it’s going to be OK, while deep inside you know they’re lying. Deeper inside, you strive to convince yourself that it’s OK. On the outside, it’s the opposite, you’re shocked again, and you wake up, to yet live another dream.

Nader K.

We, Gazans, don’t really celebrate the New Year’s Eve for a reason or two but mainly because we lack the experience in throwing huge party I believe.

For me, celebrating the end of a whole year and welcome a new one wasn’t on my schedule to be honest. My friend @iBashar tweeted me telling that he would likes us to go out for a cup of coffee as a way to celebrate, and we met one hour later, On my way to Delice, the coffee house we always meet at.

I entered Delice, picked a table for two and sat down, took my laptop out of the backpack, and started reading my timeline, which is supposedly full of tweets in which people congratulate each other wishing a Happy New Year.

Two minutes later, @iBashar arrived, we greeted each other with a handshake and a smile, he sat down and asked, “do you have a cigarette?” so I put my hand inside my backpack an take out the two cigarettes I bought earlier, I gave him one, and put the other between my lips, took out a lighter and lighted both cigarettes.

We started talking about how the last week has been and what’s new with us, we talked about many different things and people then he asked me whether he can call two more friends to come over so that we have an even greater evening all four of us, and I could never say no to this.

Half an hour later, @impalestine arrived, while @iBashar and I had had half of our Turkish coffee cups empty, we talked for a bit more as I haven’t seen him in months since we were both volunteering in a youth program.

Fifteen minutes later, and @hakimzug arrived! And things couldn’t get any better.

We talked about many other things like life in Gaza, Palestine, local issues, our wishes for 2011 and what do we plan on doing during this year.

Suddenly, @iBashar started feeling hungry, and he wanted to buy a piece of cake. Unfortunately, he had no money to buy one, then we all started craving for cake and since we are all broke, I came up with the idea of buying a big pack of biscuits from that supermarket by the corner and we eat it while having coffee.

So he went and bought one! We were very happy of that to be honest, which was really funny too.

Now it’s time for @impalestine to go meet another friend somewhere far, he greeted us and left, and we continued talking and laughing, then he called telling that he forgot to pay for his coffee! “we’re screwed, mates!”, I said, and told him to hurry up and come pay for his coffee as we’ll be leaving too and we don’t have enough money to pay for his coffee.

@impalestine came back to Delice, sat down to catch his breaths then got out the money and we went to pay for it at the cashier. Because I go to Delice on a daily basis, the guy at the cashier makes me a 20% discount, which is good!

After paying for coffee, we were happy with the discount, and we stood by the walking side talking waiting to the moment to say goodbye and go our separate ways home, and all of a sudden, @iBashar picks up something on the asphalt near to my foot, “it’s a 20!” he said with a loud laugh. We all laughed and gave him that ear-to-ear smile.

Fearing that he’d run home with the 20, I grabbed him by the arm not letting him go, we shared the 20 then decided to celebrate! “This is a gift from Allah for the new year” I said.

I suggested that we go celebrate by having some falafel sandwiches then we go home, and we walked to a nearby shop to buy some sandwiches, but none of us liked the shop, so we kept walking as I told them that I know this area very good and there’s a very good falafel shop nearby.

The closer we walk, the clearer it became, the shop was closed! We kept walking to the next one, which was around 40 meters away, which was closed too.

“What kind of luck this is.” I said, feeling helpless while the urge to have falafel for the last time in 2010 grows stronger inside me, then I remembered a new shop that opened recently just around the corner, we went there and it was open. “We’re going to eat, finally! Alhamdulillah” so we ordered for four curry chicken sandwiches, and we sat on a table on the walking side and started talking about how lucky we really are, starting with 20% discount on coffee, finding the money, and having dinner for free now!

To all of us, celebrating a New Year’s Eve couldn’t get any better, so the sandwiches arrived and we started munching like if we were starving for the past 10 years! Taking pictures whenever possible posing while eating.

@iBashar, @hakimzug, me @nelkhuzundar, and @impalestine

Once we were done, we grabbed that pack of cigarettes @iBashar has bought on his way to Delice to meet me; we opened it to find only four cigarettes! We lighted them, smoked them, threw them, then each went his own way home.

@iBashar, @hakimzug, me @nelkhuzundar, and @impalestine

We really had a blast, partying on our own terms, the four awesome of us.

Nader K.

First off, allow me to introduce myself in words. I am passionate and ambitious, a computer geek and talented in almost everything I do and/or know. I have an all around awesome personality, and truth to be told, I barely complain.

When I go though hardships, I am just one of those rocks you can never break. But when I can’t take it anymore, and I said it before, I complain like a b**** because when I do that I am more like a volcano exploding throwing fire balls every where.

“You’re time’s up, my time’s NOW!” A few minutes ago, my angry explosion was triggered, and don’t ask the reason why!

I have been holding this within my chest since I ever stepped foot in Gaza in late 1993. All of this has been accumulating, growing bigger by the minute to the fact that I can no longer take it anymore. I managed to hold my ground and face all the kinds of hardships I face as a special case of a person with the fact of being Gazan, but the thing that everybody keeps forgetting is that I am a human being too, and I have feelings. So if you don’t/can’t understand that, just walk away and stop being so pathetically sympathetic with us Gazans.

I was only 6 years old when I first experienced depression. A feeling absolutely like no other, a feeling that u can actually either get over or live with, and to be honest, it’s sad knowing that there’s no third solution to this.

I belong to an extended family with 7 uncles and 3 aunts spread around the world, each and everyone (including my father of course) is married with kids, which results around 40 sons and daughters, and I am the oldest! And when you’re the grandson the elders expect you to do everything forgetting about your origin as a human being.

“You’re time’s up, my time’s NOW!” Yes you heard me. O’ dear life, would you sympathize for once and be easy for a second? O’ Allah please grant me what I have in mind, PLEASE!

Being a Gazan is a lifetime hardship. moreover, it’s more of a curse if you on a second thought. Some of you would think that you can’t buy happiness, and truth to be told, in Gaza, everything is possible as long as you can afford paying for that, and best of all, it’s 100% genuine and guaranteed!

On the other hand, if you don’t have money, AND/OR don’t have and relatives who work somewhere sensitive from which they can help you get out of here or even don’t know someone who can help you with that, allow me to tell you that you are forever doomed. One thing of which I am sure is that in Gaza we do have favoritism, just like the rest of the corrupt world, but what’s worse is that it runs here like this “It’s about who you know, not what you know.”

Being a Gazan means that you forever will suffer and live in terror fearing the fact that you might not go back home because an Israeli missile would fall any time any where and you would be one of the victims along with the tangos.

Being a Gazan means that you forever will live only 7 hours with lights on and 17 hours without, besides the fact of having to drink non-fresh water, and having to deal with piles or endless troubles and stuff here and there till you need another hand and a leg!

Thanks for reading. I really needed to write this time.

Nader K.