Mohammed — Al-Azhar University-Gaza
— Mohammed
On the morning of October 7, 2023, I woke up to the sound of explosions shaking the sky above my home.
I lived in a border area — one of the first to be struck when the war began.
My house was destroyed in the early days of the bombardment, and from that moment, my life turned into a journey of displacement and survival.
I moved from one place to another, carrying nothing but exhaustion and fear.
During one of my displacements, I was captured for a short time.
It was one of the darkest moments of my life — I was injured, humiliated, and terrified.
Even after my release, the wounds on my body healed slowly, but the ones in my heart remain open.
Now I live in a tent by the sea.
The wind is cold at night, and the sand finds its way into everything I own.
Electricity is almost nonexistent, and the internet is weak and unstable.
Sometimes I walk long distances just to charge my phone so I can attend online classes or submit assignments.
During the famine in Gaza, I risked my life just to bring food for my family.
Every trip to find bread or water felt like walking toward death.
Prices skyrocketed, hunger spread, and people died in search of a meal.
I lost relatives and friends — some were killed under the rubble, others disappeared without a trace.
Everyone here has lost someone. Death has become a familiar guest in our lives.
Even after the so-called “truce,” things haven’t really changed.
We are still living in tents on the seashore.
Bombings continue in nearby areas, and daily life remains unbearably difficult.
And yet, I keep studying.
I am now in my final semester of the Business Administration program at Al-Azhar University.
Studying and dreaming of graduation amid all this destruction is itself a form of resistance.
Graduation, for me, is not just a certificate — it is a message:
They may destroy our homes, but they will never destroy our will or our dreams.
I owe it to myself — and to my friends who are gone — to keep going.
Every page I read, every task I complete, is an act of defiance and hope.
For us, education is not a luxury.
It is survival.
From my tent by the sea, I hold onto my books, my faith, and my future —
believing that knowledge is stronger than war, and that one day, life will return to Gaza.
