Memories of Gaza by Palestinian author Hooda Al Shawa

Although many children who will read this story may not fathom the meaning of war and why it takes place, it may help them understand the consequences of war, and how it can hurt people, especially children. I believe that we cannot shield children from the reality that humans can be destructive and harmful, and that can only be restrained by working hard at establishing justice and equal rights.

A vivid memory I have as a young girl growing up in Gaza, were the trips on Fridays and holiday feasts to the Bayyara, the orange grove in Beit Hanun, in the outskirts of Gaza city. Called Al Marj, the grove was one of hundred family-owned citrus orchards that speckled the road leading into the city. A highlight of the trip was the lunch feast of Gidra Ghazzawieha. As children, we would hover around watching huge black clay pots being tilted, spilling forth turmeric-infused golden rice onto circular trays. Encrusted with chickpeas, unpeeled garlic cloves and glistening pieces of choice lamb chunks, this meal was always accompanied by Daqqa Ghazzawieha, a tomato salad in a red clay mortar with crushed dill seeds and green chillies, a cherished mixture that a releases a distinct aroma, the taste of Gaza.

This ritual was always followed by a calorie-laden walnut sweet Kunafa. As the grown-ups would take naps under the vineyard canopy areesha, the children would hop on the donkey cart for rides up and down the main throughfare throughout the different seasons; blossom-perfumed trees in spring, shedding their delicate petals to tiny balls of green hard fruit to appear, later ripening into flaming oranges. 

In this continuing war, thousands of acres of trees have been razed and uprooted, Beit Hanun and the surrounding green belt of Gaza has become a charred and desolate wasteland. There are no more orange blossom seasons in Gaza. Donkeys, meanwhile, have taken a more dangerous and critical role; pulling their carts to transport the living, the injured and the dead. They are the only mode of transportation in a city that has been “bombed back into the stone age”.

As a writer of children’s books, Palestine has always been present in my stories. But, as the ongoing genocide ensues, language, a fundamentally human feature, seemed to fail in expressing the systematic dehumanization of the people of Gaza. How could any conjugation of words, create a story for an audience of readers, children and citizens of the world?  No child should ever have to live through the horror of a genocide. No child should ever see the horrors of Gaza. 

 

Failing to produce a human, or a child’s character to appear in a children’s story book about present-day Gaza, where human agency and free will was completely compromised, I decided to use a friendly face from my own childhood memories in Gaza, the donkey. Donkeys were a staple of everyday life in occupied Gaza, often serving as a means of transport for both people and goods.  A braying donkey-cart rattling down the streets was a familiar sight, and when we were little, sitting on a donkey cart, while it trots through the orange grove was the highlight of the Friday outing.

 

(Hooda Al Shawa's family on a donkey cart in Gaza. Courtesy of Hooda Al Shawa)

 

Zahra, the war donkey, is a fictional homage to a disappeared childhood. She is a symbol of enduring patience, resilience and the unbeatable human spirit of the Palestinian people.  As the people of Gaza continue to be dehumanized: waiting in dangerous zones for donations and rations, carrying empty pots and plastic gallons for precious water, searching for tents to replace their bombed homes, and scraps of food or materials for shelter, I can only hope that Zahra has been able to communicate some of the Gazan’s collective sense of solidarity, steadfastness, and prevailing resilience. In a time of failed language, and silenced Palestinian voices, I hope that her message is heard loud and clear.

By adding the figures of the Hakawati (the storyteller), the musician, and the clown in the story, I intended to show that joy and laughter can be created in the darkest of hours, and that the magic of storytelling, music, and art can transport children even in the most challenging of circumstances, such as in hospitals or war zones. I also wanted to pay tribute to all the young artists, members of the literary youth teams at Tamer Institute for Community Education, who lost their lives in this brutal war. 

Although many children who will read this story may not fathom the meaning of war and why it takes place, it may help them understand the consequences of war, and how it can hurt people, especially children. I believe that we cannot shield children from the reality that humans can be destructive and harmful, and that can only be restrained by working hard at establishing justice and equal rights. It is important to allow children to feel enabled, however powerless they may feel. To learn that sharing, giving or doing something, however small, that might make another person’s life better, is working towards a world without wars. 

 

The Donkey who Carried the War on her Back

Written by Hooda Al Shawa. Illustrated by Sienny Septibella.