“The last thing I remember was my mother’s face, fear-stricken and full of terror. She didn’t need to say anything, I already understood, the bombs were back.
I am a 16 year old Palestinian teenager.
My name isn’t important anymore, it was once. When there were actually people that knew it, but now they’re all dead.
The part of me that cared who I was died with them.
When I was 13 years old, my mother was killed in an Israeli bombing. Had I been a few seconds later, I would have died with her. She was the last surviving member of my family, but now it’s just me.
My father was killed defending 5 small children who had thrown stones at Israeli soldiers. That day, 6 bodies were buried. Each with an assortment of bullet holes. I had 2 brothers, they were born when the war had just started. When my family was still happy.
My mother was pregnant with me when the first bombs came. They were big and loud and they hit the school my brothers were attending. It was a very difficult time for her. The doctor said it was a miracle she hadn’t miscarried. In a moment of weakness, she’d said that she wished she had. So she wouldn’t have to bring another child into the horrible place we called our home.”
This is the REALITY of millions of Palestinian teenagers who have lost their homes, lives and entire families to the Apartheid Israeli state in the name of claiming back holy land.
Millions of fear-stricken, terrified-homeless orphans and widows.
People who were once just like us, but now will never see their family again.
Never feel the warmth of home again.
Never feel truly safe as long as they are stranded in the ‘never ending cycle’ of pain and desperation that has become their daily routine.
“Oh Youth of South Africa! We’ve braved the storm, we’ve moved past our Apartheid. They haven’t! ”
Written by Mahdiyyah Mungalee
Edited by Fatima Moolla
Posted by TTF team