‘BEHIND THE CHAOS’ IN GAZA
Author’s diary describes ordinary people’s struggle to continue their lives — not just survive — amid endless war.
A few weeks ago I interviewed an Israeli-Canadian who had been a soldier on the Lebanese border in the 1990s. This week I phoned Gaza to talk to journalist Atef Abu Saif, who writes with poignancy about life during the bombardment of Israeli drones in the summer of 2014. The attack followed the kidnapping of three Israeli teenagers and was Israel’s response to their murder. Drone strikes over Gaza began soon after. However, Atef Abu Saif does not get into anything political or accusatory in his book, The Drone Eats With Me:
A Gaza Diary. He describes in visceral detail what life was like in Gaza during this summer of bombing and drone attacks. Our conversation has been edited for length.
Jennifer: Your book isn’t political; it is descriptive. Why did you choose to present your story of Gaza this way?
Atef: I didn’t want to write a political book. Everybody talks politics during a war. The newspapers, television, etc., report about casualties and destruction and shooting. When I started this book I wanted to write it for my family in case something happens to me in the war. It’s a diary.
Most of the people living in Gaza are refugees, like me. Everybody expects you to write politics when you live in a place like this. When you mention the Middle East conflict, you can rarely do it without mentioning Gaza. When the word Gaza comes to your mind, the first thing you think of is war, destruction, killing. I wanted to write about myself, my kids, my neighbours, my sister, my family, the good people living in the refugee camp where I live.
As an author, you don’t think of people as objects. I wanted to tell the stories behind the chaos of the news. I wanted to put down my impressions and I wanted them to be honest. After talking to my friends, I realize that by publishing this, I can do something for them so people can hear about the unreported lives.
Jennifer: You say wars stand as markers in a Gazan’s life. “Life is what we have between these wars,” you write. So how do you go about embracing such brief moments?
Atef: You aren’t living if you don’t do that; you start to live in the mood of the war. Our life is suspended. It doesn’t have a start, it doesn’t have an end.
Jennifer: You play games with your children to pretend the war isn’t really affecting your family. During the 2008 war, your 6-year-old son Mostafa wanted to go out and kill all the Israelis. You left your apartment, came back five minutes later, acted exhausted and told him the bombers had all been routed. When he heard more bombing, you just smiled and told him they were new attackers. How did you come up with that tale and why?
Atef: During the war you have the sense this might be my last minutes with my kids. War is everywhere, destruction is everywhere. Attacks come from the sea, the air and the ground. You can’t take your children out of the flat where you live. When they stay at home, you have to invent games to play with them. And they might ask questions that you may not have answers for.
They don’t understand why a relative should just vanish. It’s not about the quality of life; it is about if you can live life. It is about making sure I am surviving. When I was telling the story to my children, I was telling the story to myself, too. I am not strong. I am afraid. Three of my children have survived wars and their rhythm of life is war.
Jennifer: There is little help for the Gazans, except a bit from the United Nations.
Atef: You want me to talk politics? When you live in a conflict you should have an opinion. I remember when I was nine saying to my mother, even the donkeys here don’t understand what is going on. Unfortunately Palestinians were living peacefully in their homeland and then Israel was established in 1948, so our conflict was made by the international community.
Most of the Arab countries and governments are busy with their own conflicts. I know how it feels to lose a brother in the war. I know how it feels to be in a prison. Helping Gaza is not about giving funds or aid. It is about being able to survive and live in peace and calm and prosperity.
When I teach in university, some of my students are older than 25 years old. None of them have been outside Gaza. It is ironic and sad that no one is capable of helping in the proper way.
Jennifer: It has always been a dance during your lifetime: War and truce, war and truce. How are things right now?
Atef: Now it is the second anniversary of the 2014 war. During the truce you start to think of the next war. I don’t think war is going to end. Most of the people who were pushed from their houses can’t go back and there are restrictions about bringing in building materials.
How are we going to live with what has been destroyed? Scores of people are living in caravans. They are made of metal and when the temperature outside is 40 degrees, many of them sleep outside. All the results of war have not ended. Fishermen aren’t allowed to go beyond three kilometres into the sea to fish. You cannot live and relax. In general tension is there. People have their own way of smelling the war.
What matters is not what happened. What matters is life. I didn’t want to write a book about war and destruction. Life is the most precious thing you have. I don’t want to be a casualty of war. I’ve lost a brother and I want my kids to avoid it, so that is why I invented the games and the stories. When they remember the war, I don’t want them to remember the destruction. I wanted them to remember our stories and our games.