Malak was like a sister to me.
We have been 9 years previous after we met on the Hamama College for Ladies within the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood of Gaza Metropolis. It was 2019 and Malak’s household had simply moved into an residence three buildings away from mine. When she joined the varsity, I launched myself, and from that day onwards, we might stroll to and from faculty collectively day by day.
Again then, Sheikh Radwan appeared like our total world. We had stunning buildings and retailers the place we’d purchase sweets. Households knew one another. Youngsters performed collectively. We knew all our neighbours and referred to as the adults amongst them aunts and uncles.
At first, I assumed Malak blushed simply as a result of she was new to our faculty. However as time handed, I understood this was a part of who she was. Malak was shy and quiet, light and caring. Her title means “angel”. It suited her.
She cared about our classmates and every time one in all them was upset, Malak would consolation them. I usually noticed her serving to different kids with their homework.
I used to be nearer to Malak than to the opposite ladies in school as a result of we each preferred the identical topics: maths, physics and music. I’ve a ardour for physics, whereas she excelled at maths. We each performed the piano. I specialised in classical music, whereas she beloved the normal music of Palestine.
Typically, we performed music out of tune. I bear in mind as soon as joking that she ought to keep on with her dream of changing into a nurse slightly than an expert musician. She laughed and agreed with me. We frequently made one another giggle.
However behind Malak’s smile, there was a unhappiness as if she have been carrying a burden, a sorrow she stored to herself.
‘Why this unhappiness, Malak?’
At some point in September 2023 we have been sitting within the schoolyard, as we frequently did in breaks between courses, speaking about our goals for the long run. We had simply completed a maths take a look at. The varsity day hadn’t ended, however I might see that Malak wished to go house. She was holding again tears. “Why this unhappiness, Malak?” I requested her.
She appeared first on the sky after which to me and replied. “My brother Khaled was born with a congenital coronary heart defect. He’s only one 12 months older than me, and he’s very sick.”
I had visited Malak’s house many occasions, and I knew that her brother was weak and sometimes unwell. However I didn’t understand how critical his sickness was.
When she instructed me that he would possibly die, I put my hand on her shoulder. “Who is aware of, Malak?” I stated. “Possibly we’ll go away this world earlier than he does. Loss of life doesn’t care about age or sickness.”
I by no means imagined that my fleeting phrases would quickly turn into a brutal fact.
That day within the schoolyard, we spoke for hours. Malak talked about changing into a nurse and returning to Ramla, her ancestral house, from the place her household had been displaced throughout the Nakba. She instructed me she wished to take care of sick individuals, particularly kids. I assumed that she would make an ideal nurse due to her variety nature.
When the conflict started, we every sought security with our households and misplaced contact. I used to be displaced with my household greater than 12 occasions. We have been compelled to go away our house in Gaza Metropolis and fled to different locations twice in the identical metropolis. Then to Khan Younis, Deir el-Balah, Bureij refugee camp, al-Mawasi, and now Rafah, from the place I write these phrases.
All through these displacements, I attempted to achieve Malak, however I might by no means get by means of. Each her and her mom’s telephones have been out of service.
Our college was was a shelter for displaced individuals earlier than it was destroyed by Israeli air raids on August 3, 2024. Even after this horrible information, I couldn’t attain Malak.
Discovering one another once more
After greater than a 12 months of being unable to contact my buddy, one morning in January 2025, whereas in our shelter in Rafah, I obtained a name from an unknown quantity. I used to be overjoyed once I heard Malak’s voice. She was pleased and excited to talk to me, however she sounded exhausted.
I requested her how she and her household have been and about her brother Khaled, remembering he wanted remedy. She instructed me they have been residing in a tent within the al-Mawasi space of Rafah, only a few kilometres from the place my household was sheltering.
Malak was keen to speak. She shared how her household had been repeatedly displaced throughout Gaza. Our dialog additionally took us again to the great days in Sheikh Radwan – to our houses, our faculty and every thing we used to do earlier than the conflict.
Earlier than ending the decision, I promised to go to and convey Malak and her household to our shelter. I assumed it could be safer for them to be in the identical shelter as ours as a result of our constructing is manufactured from stone whereas Malak was residing in a tent.
Two days later, on January 8, I made plans with my mom to go to Malak. I referred to as her to verify. Malak’s youthful sister Farah answered, crying bitterly. “Malak is gone,” she sobbed. “She was martyred at daybreak by a bullet whereas she was sleeping in our tent.”
I couldn’t hear. Or perhaps I didn’t wish to consider what Farah was saying. My coronary heart ached past phrases. I hung up the telephone, feeling choked by my tears. I turned to my mom. “Malak is gone.”
Collectively, in demise
The subsequent day, my mom and I went to go to Malak’s household to supply our condolences. We discovered their tent torn aside by bullet holes. However nobody was there. Their neighbours, who have been additionally in tents, instructed us that Khaled had handed away that morning. His sickness had worsened with out entry to medication, and grief over his sister’s demise had damaged his spirit. The household had gone to bury him.
I remembered my phrases from our schoolyard dialog. I by no means imagined Malak might die and that Khaled would comply with her so quickly after. They have been buried aspect by aspect. Even in demise, Khaled wouldn’t be parted from her.
Who fired that deadly bullet at Malak? Why did they kill her? Was she a risk to the troopers whereas she slept? Did they worry her goals of returning to Ramla?
Farewell, my expensive buddy. I’ll always remember you. I’ll plant an olive tree in your title, and I’ll deliver those that stay from your loved ones to be with us and take care of them as you’ll have finished.