The Drone Eats with Me by Atef Abu Saif

Author:Atef Abu Saif [Saif, Atef Abu]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8070-4911-2
Publisher: Beacon Press
Published: 2014-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

Southern Gaza

Saturday, 2 August

DEATH IN RAFAH

MY THROAT HAS GROWN WORSE. It’s excruciatingly dry and has been joined by a pain in my chest and a weakness all over my body. When the sore throat started, Sharif, the pharmacist, told me it was probably sensitivity to all the concrete dust and smoke hanging in the city air. Last night, I was at my friend Wafi’s place, exchanging opinions and speculations into the early hours. In the middle of the conversation, Abu Aseel confirmed my worst fears. Hanna had told me earlier in the day that, at around 2 a.m. the previous morning, a thick plume of low-lying white smoke had been seen encroaching on the camp from the east. It had made her cough all day. Now Abu Aseel was explaining that he was out in the street when the cloud reached him: “I could barely see my hands in front of me.” He was also suffering from chest and throat pains. Wafi had smelled it too and had been coughing all day. They all agreed it was probably poison gas. Apparently, everybody saw and smelt it except me. I hadn’t slept well that night so it was strange that I hadn’t noticed it. Hanna said that I coughed during the night too, but I was only half awake.

Sharif is the owner of the Balsam Pharmacy. It is the oldest pharmacy in the camp, a business he inherited from his father. When I asked him two days ago he assured me that my sore throat was normal given the amount of dust in the air and told me not to worry, that in two days the pain would be gone. Hanna passed his pharmacy yesterday afternoon and informed him that my pain was still as bad as ever. He gave her more medicine, which he promised would fix it. Yesterday morning, I could barely get out of bed, I felt so weak. So Hanna gave me the medicine in bed. Only at 3 p.m. did I eventually get up and have something to eat.

My father-in-law informs me that the Israeli army might withdraw from one side of Beit Lahia tonight. I had felt so sick during the night that I wasn’t aware what was happening. This is one of the miracles of falling sick in the time of war. Sleeping soundly and not noticing or caring about the world as it falls apart around you. That was how I passed last night, in pain but carefree. I didn’t seem to hear the explosions or notice the lights in the sky. I didn’t care if a rocket made a direct hit and tore my body to pieces. I just closed my eyes and slept. I almost wish I could remain this sick throughout the war—detached from the disaster surrounding me. Unplugged, disconnected.

But this afternoon I feel a bit more human. So there’s lots of news to catch up on.

My mother-in-law starts by lamenting the misfortune of her nieces who had to spend their night on the street because the drones attacked their home.

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