Ahmed Najar writes:

I spoke to my family in Gaza a day before the US election. Our conversation followed days of silence, of unbearable waiting, with every hour deepening my dread.

When I finally heard my nephew’s voice, I felt relief, but it quickly gave way to heartbreak. At just 21, his voice now carries a sadness and exhaustion far beyond his years.

“Does it even matter who wins?” he asked me, his tone hollow and resigned. “[Donald] Trump or anyone else – it doesn’t matter. Will he end this war?”

His words cut through the phone line, reflecting a hopeless disbelief that anyone outside of Gaza may ever care enough to put an end to the horrors that Palestinians in the besieged enclave endure daily.

Then he added, almost to himself: “Maybe it’s better if Trump wins. At least he’ll end it one way or another. Either he’ll let Israel drop a bomb and finish us off, or he’ll force Israel to stop the killing. Either way … anything to end this pain.”

A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – a young man, barely an adult, speaking as if annihilation were the only mercy left; as if the quickest path may be to end it all.

I struggled to keep my own voice steady, to hold back the trembling in my tone. I forced a smile, even though he couldn’t see it, and replied: “No, he’ll call for peace. He’ll have to stop this war. Things will get better. We’ll rebuild Gaza; you’ll see.”

But he only went silent, and I could feel his disbelief. When he finally spoke, his voice was a mix of bitter disbelief and quiet despair. [Continue reading…]