My special-needs daughter resisted the genocide with a dream.
A few days ago, my 30-year-old daughter Yasmin, who has special needs, walked up to me in our little place at the school shelter. Her steps were gentle, but determined. And I could see her eyes glittering with joy. I listened intently as she was struggling to speak.
“Dad…, I ate…chocolate!” she said triumphantly.
My mind started to race, trying to work out what I had heard. Where did Yasmin get chocolate?
For many years, Yasmin has lived in a world that has its own rhythm, its own language of affection and wonder. Unfortunately, when she was just four months old, a severe fever left her with a developmental disability. And at the age of seven, she suffered chronic bronchitis and underwent lung surgery in Egypt, which further affected her health and development.
We tried to provide a comfortable life for Yasmin as much as we could. We equipped her room with a computer, a tablet, colouring books, and toys of all sorts – building blocks, teddies, balloons, and even a swing suspended from the ceiling.
We also consulted specialists who prescribed Yasmin special medication. We organised various indoor and outdoor activities for her. Hide-and-seek was her favourite game, which gave her thrills of excitement.
Fortunately, for years, we were considerably able to manage Yasmin’s condition.
However, in October 2023, an Israeli warplane attacked our beautiful house, turning it into a pile of rubble. Our belongings and resources, including Yasmin’s kingdom (her room), disappeared altogether.
Caring for Yasmin at the shelter has been an exhausting and draining experience. She needs help dressing, navigating the toilet queue, walking through the chaotic courtyard. We have struggled to get her even a few toys and colouring pencils. And her medications have been very hard to find.
Yasmin is a good-looking and very sociable girl. Interestingly, people don’t have much difficulty getting used to how her tongue dances differently with words. Sometimes she misbehaves, which causes annoyance. But most people show empathy towards her.
Yasmin is also very kind. She often shares her food with friends, and on different occasions, she insists on preparing gifts for them. During Eid al-Adha last year, we decorated a tray of candies, each with a note reading, “Eid is happier with Yasmin!” She distributed the gifts with pride, lighting up the gloomy atmosphere of the shelter.
Unfortunately, now the situation has only gotten worse. Israel has tightened its merciless siege on the Gaza Strip, impeding the delivery of basic food supplies, fuel, and medical and sanitation aid. The markets have seen no trace of so many things for months. No vegetables, no fruit, no meat, no fish, no chicken, no eggs, no milk, no sugar, no chocolate!
The lack of nourishment has been a serious problem for all people in Gaza. Everyone I know has grown much thinner, with pale skin and an emaciated body. My wife and I have suffered from spells of dizziness.
Yasmin has been especially vulnerable. She has lost a lot of weight, and her health has deteriorated.
In July, nearly 12,000 Palestinian children under the age of five were officially diagnosed as malnourished.
In addition to the casualties of the ongoing war – more than 62,000 killed and 140,000 injured – more than 315 Palestinians have already died as a result of the forced starvation, half of them children.
At this critical time, Yasmin surprisingly stood before me, carrying the lightness of a secret. With a glowing face, she declared she had eaten chocolate!
Startled, I turned to her. “You ate chocolate, Yasmin? Where? Who gave it to you?”
Sensing my confusion, she smiled and her face lit up with more delight. She gently shook her head and explained, “No, no, Dad. I…didn’t eat…chocolate. I said…I dreamed!”
I jumped up and gave Yasmin a big hug, bursting into laughter – laughter that was louder and longer than I had in months. My laughter, however, was laced with extreme sorrow and fatigue.
Amid the horrors of war and widespread famine, Yasmin had a dream of something sweet. And the dream was sweet enough to make her highly delighted.
Yasmin, a young woman with special needs, was not aware of the political meaning of her dream. She didn’t know that her dream, where she tasted something unreachable, was an act of rebellion against Israel’s atrocities and defiant hope to live freely in peace and dignity.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect media’s editorial stance.
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