Thick black smoke rose from hundreds of large tires burned along the border. The sky is getting darker and the air is getting hotter like the Sahara. While the wind from the gaza sea continued to blow, the paper kites with the motif of the Palestinian flag were flown by the youths. Not an ordinary kite. They put fire and gasoline at the end of the kites to burn the lands under Israeli control several hundred meters away from them.
Large ropes were stretched and screams arose. Children and young men carrying stones and catapults, women clustered together with Palestinian flags flapping in almost every direction.
A giant flag was planted in the midst of thousands of people who were pinning, as if it was a banner for the optimism they carried, that they would return to their land separated by wire and wall.
Meanwhile journalists are busy with their cameras, targeting every activity and what the world deserves to know. The rest of the earth deserves to know about this great action, they thought. Even though they knew that they could be martyred, dozens of bullets were looking for targets among the Zionist snipers who were ready to target them. Or maybe a stray bullet that crushed the stomach and pierced the skull.
Paramedics were passing by among hundreds of people carrying empty stretchers and a moment later, they had filled them with collapsed bodies. Either sprawled out by bullets or tear gas. What is clear they need to carry that defenseless body. Blood started splashing between their white uniforms. The sound of ambulance sirens can still be heard overriding the great drama of the lives of the Gazan people who are filled with burning passion.
Ibrahim is a young man among hundreds of other youths around him. In his hand was a Palestinian flag which he kept flying among the fluttering winds that seemed to be cheering along with the euphoria of the participants in the action. The gaza winds danced with the flags and raised yells and speeches.
at that time Ibrahim saw several Zionist snipers clustered across the mound and ready to aim their weapons. Meanwhile the tear gas bullets continued to launch. Makes the crowd scatter to save themselves. Ibrahim saw a woman who was falling and lying. Meanwhile he saw the paramedics were still tens of meters behind him. Ibrahim knew what he had to do at that time. He immediately ran to get the woman away from dangerous territory. He ran a few steps and he felt his body suddenly sway before he managed to reach the poor woman.
Her eyes were blurry. He felt something odd about his body. Ibrahim felt a sting of pain radiating down his stomach, the pain radiating to his chest and groin. His right hand touched his stomach and he realized he had been shot. He vomited blood and the last time he saw was a smile. I don't know whose smile. While the screams began to faint and sink, the sound of sirens, the wind, the yells and the flames disappeared, changing to coolness.
Hussam ran between the narrow alleys with agile movements like a small sheep chasing its mother. While tears were still creeping in his eyes. The streets and alleys are so deserted from life. It was as if everyone was being sucked to the eastern border to attend the action and burn big tires.
Hisam kept running while he only met old women who sat accompanied by their grandchildren in their yard. Among them looked at Hisam with a gaze full of meaning. It was as if they knew the meaning behind Hussam's cries.
Hussam saw the gate of his house and immediately broke in. He found his father sitting on the broken sofa. In front of him the television was on, showing the ongoing Great Return March action.
“Father! Father!" shouted Hussam and he rushed to his father.
“Hussam, what happened. Why are you crying? " asked Amal, Hussam’s father with a trembling heart. He more than knew that Hussam's crying was a bad omen for him.
"Ibrahim has been shot at the border," Hussam whispered between his sobs. Amal was shaken and tears came out of his eyes, and a groan came out of her mouth.
***
Reem woke up from her sleep when she heard the sound of crying adults from the hall. Who is crying? She seldom heard the sound of crying in his house apart from the cries of his nephew, Khadija, who was five months old. Her house is never a witness to sadness, there is always laughter and joy in it. Yes, and her brother Ibrahim who always motivates her to learn is one reason she is still happy.
Reem moved forward even though she was still sleepy. And she saw his father crying while hugging Hussam, her 7 year old younger brother. "What happened?" she asked in surprise.
Amal looked at her daughter with tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Ibrahim..."
It was as if lightning had struck Reem's body. She collapsed. It was as if her bones had become flexible and their joints had fallen off one by one. Oh my Ibrahim, no way! He can't be dead! This afternoon he would come back home and tease me about my marriage to Walid in two months.
Reem screamed and recite his older brother's name. Her heart was broken and she hoped it was just a dream. She was not ready for Ibrahim to leave his life.
Oh Ibrahim, the brother she cherished and loved the most. Nothing else could give her encouragement and jokes between their breakfast. There were no longer people who faithfully waited for her at university when she faced his semester exams and returned home with a ride on his old motorbike. No one more treats her snacks outside the house.
Ibrahim for him is a memory of life itself. She is the queen in front of her brother who never said no of all her wishes.
***
"Father, please call Ibrahim to buy us carrots and olive oil at the market." Reem exclaimed to Amal who was busy with the iron behind the house. Amal was silent, He sighed and wiped the sweat that rolled down his face. "My dauhgter Reem, I know you still can't face this reality." He said softly.
Reem didn't hear what Amal said. But at that moment she realized that Ibrahim was no longer in their house. Two days ago Ibrahim was buried with a Palestinian flag and a kafayeh covering his body. At that moment, Ibrahim’s face was clean and flawless.
Reem was again crying among the flour dough, lamb chops and kitchen utensils. She sobbed again while stirring the lamb Shawarma dough. Tomorrow is the first day of Ramadan fasting as well as the first Ramadan without Abraham's presence. Not only Ramadan this year, but Ramadan for the rest of her life. He will have to face that harsh reality for the rest of her life.
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