A heartbreaking reality that often is forgotten with everything that goes on in one’s personal life, Mariam Q writes about a cry that cannot be forgotten. Enjoy
I was fumbling with the stuff on my desk while the teacher was getting the projector ready for the lesson and the girls haven’t finished from their chitchat. The classroom was cold and I pulled my jacket tighter around my skin, I was freezing. The lights were dimmed and silence fell on the class. All faces were gazing eagerly at the board waiting for the thing to appear on screen. I fixed my gaze on the board as it unfolded before my own eyes…
The beach was quiet and the waves of the sea stroking the shores tenderly. The girl was barefoot running on the warm sand, her curly hair dancing with the wind and a huge grin was drawn on her innocent face. Her family was enjoying the good weather and additions of people were too. Everything seemed too good to be true, the weather, the peacefulness and the happiness. It did not feel right. Nothing did those days. The joy that girl felt was shortened by the loud sound of bombs crashing the shore, sand was flying everywhere chaotically; people were falling, one after another. The girl whirled around her, scared and frightened yet there was a force that drove her away to safety as everyone on the beach took their last breath. She walked over to her Dad who was lying down on the sand, in a deep sleep.
“Daddy, let’s leave. Let’s go away!” she yelled.
There was no answer, no reply. He stayed on the ground with his eyes closed, not breathing. She screamed, a scream that came from within, it was deafening and filled with pain; a scream that tore across the bloody sky and silent beach of Gaza. She got up, ran back and forth. She cried, yelled and shouted but there was no reply. There was no echo to her voice. It was lifeless and no one was there to hear the girl’s helpless cries. In one second, one moment, with that one bomb, all her family was diminished from her life. This is what became of the girl, Huda Ghalia.
I was shivering, not with cold but fear; I felt goosebumps spread across my skin. Sadness overflowed every fibre of my being as I heard the girl’s cry. My heart was wrenched from my chest and I felt great pain for her. Her cry was not not heard, her cry have reached millions. And I was one of those millions, one of those people who got her story imprinted in her mind forever. I will never forget the girl, whose scream was eternal, on the beach of Gaza…
Author: Mariam Q