Hanya Aljamal: A Teacher's Struggle for Hope Amidst War

As the conflict in Gaza escalates, 28-year-old Hanya Aljamal shares her experience of displacement, loss, and the fight to find meaning in her life after the war devastates her home and aspirations for the future.

Hanya Aljamal looks out over her balcony, where the remnants of normalcy intertwine with the harsh realities of life in Gaza. At just 28 years old, her life was once on an upward trajectory—working as an English teacher and applying for scholarships to pursue a Master's degree in international development. However, the war that erupted in October 2023 has shattered her dreams and forced her into a crowded apartment with her family where peace is scarce.

On any given Sunday morning, while sipping coffee on her balcony, Hanya observes her 70-year-old neighbor nurturing his garden, an endeavor she describes as "the purest form of resistance." Such small gestures of normalcy offer fleeting moments of solace amidst the chaos. Since the conflict began, Hanya has experienced displacement five times, a fate shared by about 90% of Gazans, according to UN estimates.

The sounds of explosions punctuate her nights, keeping her awake and anxious. With her school closed, Hanya's identity as an educator has slipped away, leaving her searching for purpose as her world crumbles. She explains, "It's very hard finding purpose in this time, finding some sort of solace or meaning as your entire world falls apart."

Currently working for an aid organization, she witnesses the trauma in her community firsthand. During sessions with girls from her project, the stories of loss pour out—the death of parents and friends echo through the air, creating a heavy silence when one girl breaks down in tears. These moments illustrate the psychological toll the war has had on young lives.

On a bright Tuesday, Hanya admires colorful kites dancing in the sky, symbols of hope for children seeking a semblance of childhood amidst despair. Yet this moment is fleeting, overshadowed by the constant drone of military aircraft—a reminder of her precarious reality that feels like "psychological torture."

With each passing day, basic necessities become harder to come by; Hanya's excitement for Eid al-Adha is dampened by a lack of food and the painful knowledge of family losses—her cousin killed while seeking aid. She struggles with grief and the emotional exhaustion that comes from rationing her sorrow for fear of further loss.

As she navigates the destruction and gloom that surround her, Hanya finds solace in the beauty of the sky, a rare escape from the grey destruction below. "It's very hard to find beauty in Gaza anymore," she reflects. The vibrant colors of dawn provide a poignant contrast to the horror of her reality, reminding her and others that hope can still endure, even in the darkest of times.