Ahmed Issa, fearless and audacious in Gaza ~ Malinda Words

I last heard from my friend and brother Ahmed Issa on Tuesday the 24th of October, 2023. I sent him a link to an article I had written titled ‘Let us write beautiful poetry.’ He replied with a heart emoji.

The following day, my sister sent me the following text: ‘Ahmed’s cousin is dead. She was 21. He had to dig her with his hands out of the rubble.’

My friend and brother Ahmed Issa wrote a poem titled ‘Only if you make it to the next day.’ I don’t know when he wrote it. He had sent it to my sister who forwarded it to me. This was on the 26th.

I texted my friend and brother Ahmed Issa yesterday (the 27th). I wrote, ‘it's a beautiful and powerful poem my brother.’ More than 36 hours have passed since then. He hasn’t seen my message. I fear for my friend and brother Ahmed Issa, for his young wife and their two small children, his friends, the members of his family, his friends, teachers and neighbours who were alive when he sent me his heart and who may not be so as I write now.

My friend and brother Ahmed Issa studied in England but returned home to Gaza after completing his degrees. He visited the USA a few weeks ago. He is in his early thirties. He’s old enough to be aware of the universe of the probable and its discernible dimensions which are themselves horrific enough. He’s old enough to know that there are limits imposed and limits embraced. Of the latter, he has none. He returned to Gaza.

My friend and brother Ahmed wanders over rubble, climbs above fighter planes dropping bombs and floats over territories where lies are celebrated as biblical truths. He understands the silence of those who fear. He smiles at those who could speak but stop themselves because a price has to be paid for integrity.

ONLY IF YOU MAKE IT TO THE NEXT DAY

A Gazan's daily routine after Oct 7th
(distant from, but not unrelated to, a Gazan’s life for 16 years prior)

Wake up at 10 p.m. Since there is no sleep permitted
The worst bombings are at night

Look for a source of energy
to charge his phone batteries and
to turn on the internet router.
Only if we make it to the next day.

Direct other members of the family
to seek and secure the beta bread
It is now the scariest resource
for there is insufficient bread flour
Only if we make it to the next day.

Direct other members of the family
to seek to secure clean and drinkable water
Only if we make it to the other day.

On the worst days, go to dig and find
other family members who were bombed
during the last night & put them in their coffins
Cry, a little, say goodbye swiftly then go
back to look for your basic needs.
Only if you make it to the next day.

Sit with family members
get to know them better
Meet new people and listen
to their stories on how they survived
Circle with your fellow survivors
to vent to speak. But there is no time to die to cry!

Go to sleep with your phone, scrolling agonies
until you start hearing the night attacks.
If you understand the bombing formula
you will not be scared anymore. It goes like this:

1. If you hear the sound of warplanes hovering loudly = you are safe it has passed you.
2. If you hear the sound of bombings so loud = you are safe because you are not in the center of the explosion.

3. If you hear nothing and you find yourself in another place, either in the hospital or the afterlife = you are safe as well.

There is nothing to worry about from now on.

For the Gazan, life still must go on
He lives it fearlessly and with audacity

Dear fellow Gazan, wherever you are in the world
Have I forgotten anything? Please correct me
if I have made it to another day.

My friend and brother Ahmed Issa signs off with an emoji. A red heart. And says ‘from Gaza with love,’ followed by a small icon of the Palestine flag.

I don’t hear the sound of warplanes hovering loudly. They haven’t arrived, so they cannot pass. I am safe. I don’t hear the sound of bombings. I am nowhere close to an explosion. Not yet. I am safe. I hear things and find myself in places I know the names of. I am not in a hospital. I am not in the afterlife. I am safe. I am safe but not in the ways that my friend and brother Ahmed Issa is safe right now regardless of the dimensions, colours and textures of that safety.

For the Gazan life must go one. For me too. My friend and brother Ahmed Issa, like his fellow Gazans, lives fearlessly and audaciously. And I, audaciously, hope. That's what my friend and brother Ahmed Issa has pieced together from life shredded in Gaza. That's what he has sent us with love. From Gaza.

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is the 255th article in the new series that began in December 2022. Links to previous articles are given below]

29 October 2023

Ahmed Issa, fearless and audacious in Gaza

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