They? | Wattys2017 |1st Place #gazawritesback|

Chapter 1

A young boy. From Gaza.

Missing things that are needed, and yet you can't say anything, they're choking you though not in a direct way, your sitting on the ground, with your ripped pants and shirt, but it's not because it's the new fashion no its something entirely different, it's because of them, they stopped all the suppliers from helping you out, they took control over water and food, over electricity and other important things. All of that was a reason of why people died and passed away. But I didn't say it was the only reason...

Three years old. I was living a perfect life, even though I was young and I didn't know what perfect was, but well you realise when you got a story like mine.

Four years old. Some things were changing,

Five years old. People were hiding, climbing ladders as I was told to reach destinations, but I didn't know that those ladders were going to be a part of my life,

Six years old. It all began,

"Immy where are we going?" I ask, getting tired from all the walking we had done, but I couldn't whine or make my mum feel that, because if you saw her bagged eyes and her tired face that had creases sewn on it you wouldn't want her to feel it either, with her on my right and my younger sister on my left we walked on, taking the roads on foot, there was something wrong, from when a man walked onto our front yard where my sister and I were playing wearing a helmet and body guard with the biggest boots I had ever seen at that age.

"Somewhere" was the answer

"Why isn't Abbi with us?" I asked not satisfied with the first answer.

"He has some work to do, and then he'll come, he promised you and your sister he'd come"

He promised me, he said he'd come,

But he also said that if he didn't he'd always be with us, there's always that 'if' in the way.

I didn't know what was going on, but even though, I took each step and with it was a loud bang, I've heard them before, they were just bangs when you heard them, but if you were at the site of those bangs, you'd see the affects, you'd see lives being robbed, children lost, parents screaming their children's names, then when it's all over, people start searching for their loved ones, or for their houses that had turned to rubble, they start to lose hope but never do they lose the will to live and defend their country, now you're probably thinking 'don't they have anything to defend themselves with?' well let me answer that question you have roaming in your mind, they do, they have one defense weapon. Rocks. But when you put rocks next to a gun filled with bullets, and bodyguards that are worn, and helmets that protect, you start to think that Palestinians don't stand a chance against them. But they don't have determination, and we do, they haven't seen hardships to learn from, but we did. They might have money, but we have a country that we would never give away, not for money or anything else.

Lost in my young thoughts, I trip over my untied shoelaces, reaching the ground, and scraping my knee, the side of my leg and arm, but I didn't cry or whine because of that, I got up calmly just wincing as I was about to walk on, to lead my family, my mother and sister both asking me if I was alright or if we should sit down, but I knew we shouldn't because they'd be after us in no time, but then I remembered the kufiyah that was supposed to be around my neck, but it wasn't there, that's when I felt my eyes well up, but I refused to let them spill because I had to be strong, for my mother who was weeping at the trouble we were in, for my sister who didn't know where we were going or what was even happening so I had make her live this innocence and not show any of my emotions, I couldn't let her lose her childhood, and for my father who was out there, in a war zone, so he could protect us. I looked behind me, and the biggest smile broke onto my face, my kufiyah was there on the ground where it didn't deserve to be, thrown over some leaves and dirt covering it from the ground, I picked up and put it to my lips,

Whispering the words "Alhamdullilah" over and over again.

When I lost it I thought I would never move on again, because it was special, it was the last thing I got from my father and it was the only indicator that I was a Palestinian who would die for his country.

"We're here" I looked to my mother who had a soft smile on her lips, and then out to the caves that were scattered around, and the children who were playing outside under the rays of the sun, most of them not knowing about what was happening to their city, but then again I'm six years old and I know.

*****