Here is Gaza… Innocence pulls water carts instead of playing

In the heart of the besieged Strip, pain manifests itself in unbearable images. The sounds of bombardment are no longer the only thing haunting the nights of Palestinians, but also the cries of hunger and thirst rising from the throats of children before adults. The mother who once dreamed of seeing her children running to school or preparing to play in the neighborhood now stands helpless before their innocent eyes, unable to find them a piece of bread or a sip of cold water to quench their thirst.
Hunger has become a heavy guest in every home, in every tent, sitting with families around an empty table that carries nothing but a few crumbs—if any. The children who once played with their small toys now ask their mothers for food as adults do, and words freeze in the mothers’ throats while tears choke their eyes, for they have nothing left but prayer and patience.
As if life’s cruelty were not enough, thirst has deepened the bitterness. Clean drinking water is scarce, and people stand in long lines hoping to fill a few bottles. There is no difference between man and woman, child and elder; all carry small containers, driven by the hope that their turn will come before the water runs out. It is a scene that reflects human fragility, when the simplest needs turn into a battle for survival.
In this harsh reality, children have bid farewell to the childhood they are entitled to. Pure laughter has vanished, and their small toys no longer matter. Instead, their eyes search for a piece of bread or for shelter to shield them from the cold of night and the heat of day. They have been forced to grow up before their time, becoming little seekers of the bare minimum for life.
And yet, despite all this pain, hope remains a fragile thread to which those rooted in their land cling. Their faith in the justice of their cause and their patience in the face of hardship enable them to rise each morning to confront another day, hoping that tomorrow will bring a glimmer of relief—or a day when childhood returns to their children’s faces, so they may live as they deserve: a life of dignity, free of fear, hunger, and thirst.