Dear People of Gaza,

Warm greetings,

 It pains me, after your long endurance and sacrifices, to write you this letter. I do not claim to know the future, but I am your existing companion in exile. And I have come to realize that knowing the past well enough allows us to foresee what is to come. They say, seeing is believing, but in this case, seeing is a curse.

They will ask you to leave your land—either by choice or by force. You will say NO. You are the best at saying no, I know you very well. They will kill your children and imprison your fathers. I will not say they will spare your women or your little ones, because this occupier spares no one.

Sadly… in the end, you will leave. At least, those of you who survive. It does not matter where… but you will be cast into the sea – for the first time, or perhaps into the desert, or you will find yourselves in a hidden page of a history book, shelved somewhere and left to gather dust.

Do not worry brothers and sisters… The Arab League will convene for you. They will have lunch and dinner in air-conditioned halls while you shiver in a tent… somewhere. After much debate, a final statement will emerge from a spokesman picking at his teeth with a toothpick, condemning what is happening to you in the strongest terms and lamenting your suffering. The statement will also reaffirm their rejection of your displacement and your right of return to your land.

At the second meeting, few years later, they will grant you travel documents—not passports—to facilitate your movement, claiming these documents protect your right of return. Do not be disheartened; they won’t grant you citizenships of an Arabic country, because their passports and nationalities are far more precious to them than your homeland.

A year or two later, they will start denying you visas. A decade or two later, those documents will be deemed forged passports at airports. And so, you will remain in your tents for years to come.

But do not worry… UNRWA will not abandon you. They will rent a land for you to build another “temporary” camp. They will try to integrate you into the societies that never wanted you in the first place. You will search for another homeland and throw yourselves into the sea – a second time. Those who survive this time, will receive European passports, in lands that claim to uphold humanity—after signing an integration agreement that erases what remains of your features and identities.

You will resist on social media, but they will ban your profiles, dull your claws, take your children, and make you grateful that you left your camps behind.

But I am here to reassure you… The religious Imams will not forget you. Their voices will grow hoarse as they preach from pulpits… Tears will be shed; speeches will be written that send shivers down spines. You will be promised a near victory. They will tell you about the end of times, the rise of the Antichrist, and the liberation of Al-Aqsa.

Ah, I almost forgot to mention—Al-Aqsa will be demolished soon. Perhaps due to an unfortunate excavation accident nearby, or perhaps it will collapse over the heads of a group of so-called terrorists who sought refuge there—or so they will claim. Coming up with a justification will not be difficult for Our enemy, nor will spreading a media narrative that glorifies the elimination of these “criminals,” while expressing regret over the “collateral damage.”

And in a few years—perhaps even months—Netanyahu will receive the Nobel Peace Prize. Influencers will be invited to inaugurate nightclubs and entertainment venues in your Strip which they want to call “The Riviera”. Banquets will be held, attended by the same people who once issued you those travel documents. Yes, they will enter your land with diplomatic passports, smiling once again, with pieces of meat stuck between their teeth… your flesh.

Dear People of Gaza,

Warm greetings once again from me…

I am from the third generation of the Nakba. Followed by another one or two generations still carrying travel documents. I know the texture of their papers, I have memorized what is written in them, and I can still smell the fresh ink of rejection stamps on their pages.

My heart is with you, and my wound, which has grown weary of healing and reopening, will split “open”* once again with yours. This is the only “conquest”* we have known for eighty years, my brothers. This is the only conquest.

So blessed is your patience. May your martyrs rest in peace. And may He be with you wherever you go.

Frankly, I have no advice for you… except one: do not wait for anything from anyone. Do not call upon anyone, for we have lost our voices from calling for almost 80 years now. God alone is sufficient for you.

Please accept my deepest love and empathy,

Your brother,

Just an Old Refugee

* This is a play on Arabic words. In Arabic, open means Fath and so does conquest.