Brenna Ribeiro

Dear friends from Gaza,

Never have we met, never have we spoken but I feel for you.
The stories of the pain and suffering in Gaza disturb me, move me.
I understand what you are going through.
Actually, not.
Living in the comfort of my home in Mumbai, I cannot really understand the nightmare you are living.

I cannot understand how it is to live under the shadow of death,
missiles all around me,
running helter-skelter to find my family members,
seeing people who I meet everyday bleeding, crying and dying,
while I’m deeply bruised physically and emotionally.

I cannot understand how it is to see my world crumble before my eyes,
my home being torn apart,
all the belongings that I emotionally treasured reduced to ashes,
half burnt photos from family albums,
and still no sign of my family members.

I cannot understand the hopelessness and the helplessness,
living with little or no water, food, clothes, medications
with no place to call home.

I cannot understand the emotional impact of the human loss,
a child soaked in blood crying in pain for his parents who are gone forever,
a newlywed looking all around for her beloved who she’ll see no more,
a couple frantically searching for their only child who was born after years of prayers,
a bunch of kids who find their grandmother’s wheelchair in a horrendous condition while they hope she is safe.

I cannot understand what the deadly massacre is doing to young minds,
are they shattered and depressed beyond repair?
or have they stopped dreaming and hoping about anything good?
or are they hardened and have started seeking revenge?

I don’t understand how it might have been to live in a “box” for years,
with no access to basic needs and travel.

I grew up in a place where Hindus, Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together.
We fought about who won the hide and seek game,
who would keep a watch on the door while we made mischief in class,
who would distract the gardener while the rest of us plucked flowers and fruits.
The only fights we had.
Even today when we meet there is so much love and warmth.

And so I cannot understand why some people have stopped being human?
How anyone can be completely emotionless and heartless?
Why one person’s suffering makes no difference to another?
When and how did blood become thinner than water?
Why little children are being punished for something they don’t even know about?
Why there is so much hatred between Israel and Palestine?
Why always innocent people from either side bear the brunt of hate-politics, power game, extremism and selfish motives?
Why do people think the gun and weapons are the answer to all problems?

It’s difficult for me to imagine an end to the ordeal,
of life returning to normalcy.
Normal seems like a joke.
It would take years to put together the broken pieces,
to recover from the loss of loved ones.





But I am trying hard to imagine the end of the years of suffering and hatred.
I am trying to imagine a renewed Gaza.
Even though I’m very small, a nobody,
I can imagine myself speaking out and letting my fellow Indians know about what you are going through.
I can imagine us using social media and public platforms to join the "war" against the war. (Our's is not a violent one.)
I know the possibility of change is bleak but not impossible.
I hope and pray that your ordeal shall end and you can start living.
I hope the children can start playing and laughing.
I hope people see skies clear of explosion.
I hope and prayer for a better tomorrow, a peaceful and happy tomorrow.

From a friend from India,

Brenna Ribeiro.
Twitter handle: @BrennaRibeiro03

Email: brennahribeiro@gmail.com