I survived the genocide in Gaza, but still carry its scars within me
I survived the genocide in Gaza, but still carry its scars within me Submitted by Ahmed Abu Artema on Mon, 06/08/2026 - 08:27 Nine months into exile, the smallest things including a full battery, a passing plane or a plate of leftover rice show how deeply the genocide is lodged in the body
The harsh experiences that groups and individuals go through affect the subconscious in ways that may extend across generations.
A Dutch woman told me that her elderly mother still stores large quantities of food because she experienced famine during World War Two in the winter of 1944.
My body left Gaza nine months ago, which is theoretically enough time for new feelings to be born. Yet sometimes I observe my feelings and notice that the effect of living through genocide in Gaza for two years - and before that, many long years of siege and occupation - is still active within me.
From my very first days in safe exile, I felt a subtle unease at the fact that electricity is available 24 hours a day, and that at any moment I could plug in a charger. If I were on a train or travelling, it would also be no problem: I could charge my phone whenever I wanted, anywhere.
In my new residence, I now own three chargers. In Gaza, several people would share a single charger, since Israel prevented the entry of most goods, including phones and accessories. One of us would keep their charger as a precious commodity, to be carefully protected.
When the time came for me to leave Gaza, I felt it would be selfish to take mine with me, since I could easily get one abroad while people in Gaza desperately needed it.
Even though electricity is now readily available, there is still a compulsion that drives me to fully charge my phone whenever it drops slightly. I feel more at ease when the battery is at 100 percent.
Charging a phone in Gaza is a daily, exhausting battle. Israel has completely cut off the electricity supply for more than two and a half years. The only available source of electricity is the few solar panels, so people send their phones to charging points in the morning and retrieve them several hours later.
If the battery runs out, they have to wait until the next day to recharge it; and if the sun disappears behind the clouds in winter, they may have to wait an additional day or two until the sun shines again.
In Europe, I went into a shop with a Spanish friend to buy a razor. We had several options. I pointed to the battery-operated one, while my friend suggested that the one powered directly by electricity was of better quality.
In Gaza, one of the most important quality criteria we look for in any electrical device is a reliable battery that lets us use it for longer periods without being plugged in.
Food discarded in one place is a matter of survival for people elsewhere
It took me a moment to convince myself that I could trust that electricity was always available here before I accepted my friend's suggestion.
For months, Israel imposed starvation on the people of Gaza. We struggled daily to secure a single loaf of bread or a packet of biscuits.
On the rare occasions when relatively better quantities of goods entered Gaza, those who were financially able would rush to buy extra amounts to store, knowing that this abundance was temporary and that storing food was necessary for food security.
After I came to the land of plenty, some of that effect remained active at first - the same effect the Dutch woman had told me about her mother's experience of the famine during World War Two. I found myself unconsciously buying extra food.
After several weeks, I began to recover from this effect and started buying only enough for two or three days. However, my sensitivity to food waste remained, a feeling I view as positive and would like to preserve.
I once read that hundreds of thousands of tonnes of bread are thrown away. This reflects a profound lack of moral responsibility. Food discarded in one place is a matter of survival for people elsewhere.
Once, I kept a plate of rice in the refrigerator for several days because I felt moral discomfort about throwing it away, especially with the memory of the urgent need for food among the people of Gaza.
Eventually, a Syrian friend visited and relieved me of the discomfort, telling me he would take the plate to feed animals and birds.

