Abu Ahmed had seen the horrors of children being separated from their parents, of children being forcibly taken away and when his child was separated from them the horror stories kept coming back to him.
My friend carried his old mother and started running with her. She was heavy and he could not hold her for a long time and run with her. If he went back to get her wheelchair, he or his mother could be dead. The distance to wherever he had to go was long and he could not carry his mother. We wanted to go south, maybe there will be some safe place. He put his mother down and ran to get the chair reciting the Shahada and preparing to die any moment.
He picked up the chair and ran back before the tank blocked the road. At the last moment, my friend overtook the tank, jumping before it closed the road, while we all kept running with the soldier’s voice loudly calling us “No stopping, no stopping,”
We had all checked our family and my friend had looked for his family. We could not find his eight-year-old daughter Yasmeen among them. He had started shouting at everyone asking for Yasmeen, but no one had seen her. I must return he had said. We all shouted at him that stopping was prohibited, they would shoot him and kill him. His father had pulled Abu Ahmed forcefully urging him to go forward. Abu Ahmed had kept repeating – may God bless you my Yasmeen, my little girl, my love.
He was walking towards the south and images of Yasmeen did not leave his mind – the day she was born, the first time she took steps and how he helped her walk, how many children’s stories and songs he sang to her before bed, the first day she carried her small bag to kindergarten like an innocent, colourful butterfly. Yasmeen, Yasmeen, Yasmeen he and everybody had cried.
He woke up to his wife telling him that they had arrived at the entrance of Nuseirat Camp. She told him that they would wait at Salah al-Din Street. Someone may have taken Yasmeen and will bring her here, his wife had said. Abu Ahmed and his wife had sat there waiting. The faces of the people were covered in dust, sadness, anger and the absurdity of the universe on their faces. Abu Ahmed kept repeating, "May God protect you, Yasmeen".
They kept sitting there for three hours. Suddenly, the sea parted from the flood of people and Yasmeen was walking with a man carrying his children. When she saw her family, she quickly ran to her mother and everyone started crying and thanking the man for her return.
Abu Ahmed had seen the horrors of children being separated from their parents, of children being forcibly taken away and when his Yasmeen was separated from them the horror stories kept coming back to him. He knew that this time the power of his prayers had brought back his Yasmeen. When you don’t know what is there for you the next minute, how can you know what will be there tomorrow?
We all dream of safety, of being without fear, of our family's safety, but we also know that these are just dreams.
(in arrangement with the Ashtar Theatre, Gaza)