A Man, His Son and Gaza

Humanity & Inclusion has been working in Gaza for many years, including undertaking important efforts to help people with disabilities. Among our staff is Hani Qdaih, who is the office's Administration and HR officer. During a recent visit to Rafah by Jean-Pierre Delomier, Hani wrote a poem that describes his feelings as a humanitarian worker in Gaza, as well as the thoughts of his son Karam, who is 13 and lives with cerebral palsy. Hani has given me permission to share it with you, in the hope that it inspires understanding among a broader audience about what life has become for them. With apologies for the English translation, which cannot hope to replicate fully the Arabic original:

As I slept next to my only son,

he looked at me after a long day in a camp

for displaced people in Rafah.

I saw many questions and words

in my son Karam's eyes,

and I tried to infer some of what he was thinking:

"Why, father, are we in the middle

of endless dunes in a worn-out tent?

Where is my warm wooden bed

where I used to sleep next to you,

while you caress my cheeks as you run

your fingers through my hair?

Father, in spite of my young age,

I can feel what's going on in your mind and

what is squeezing your chest.

I was born, Father, to enjoy my childhood

like the rest of the world's children,

but my first cries in this life

came with the sound of drone fire and the thud of artillery.

When will we see swallows flying again,

promising a more beautiful place?"

#Gaza #humanitarian #Rafah