Gaza Diary: “I don’t want breadcrumbs, I want Nutella crepes”

The war between the lines: War isn't just about airstrikes and ground offensives. My texts are about the war that usually doesn't make the headlines, the war between the lines that dominates the everyday lives of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip and is perhaps even more brutal than the visible war. Famine is also a weapon of war; inflation and cash shortages are weapons of war; the monthly expulsions are a weapon of war; continuing to send one's schoolchildren to online classes when there's barely any internet access is a pure battlefield, and the mere attempt to survive as a human being under such conditions is a constant struggle.

The war in Gaza has created a two-class society: On the one hand, the merchants who devour all the money and hoard all the cash, and on the other, the rest of the population, who have to endure every indignity to even get hold of cash. That's why I now pay for everything using a banking app—which, of course, requires internet access. All shops and even simple street stalls now conduct their business this way, because cash is in short supply. Even some employees only receive their wages via app. Theoretically, you could also withdraw money at exchange offices, if you can still find any, but the withdrawal fee there is now 35 percent.

Recently, my daughter was nagging me about her insatiable craving for Nutella crepes. Her friend, the daughter of merchant So-and-so, was allowed one every day. And now she's writing her final exams, so I should grant her a wish! Besides, she needs the energy Nutella gives you more than anything right now. That convinced me, but I couldn't convince the pastry chef, who, when I called to order, insisted that I give him the price of the crepe—a whopping 70 shekels, or 17 euros—in cash. Finally, I hung up in a rage and, furious as I was, promptly bought the crepe from a shop that let me pay via app, for a whopping 300 shekels, or 74 euros.

I want to act as a survivor, not as a victim

This was my silent revenge on all those who make me feel like I have no choice. A small victory for my humanity. I know I seem a bit like someone who's afraid of a mouse but willing to challenge a crocodile to get food. But that's the way it is in this fight for survival: every additional option is hard-fought.

Why shouldn't we have a varied menu? Why do I always have to feed my child the same thing? Don't I count as an individual on this planet? I don't want breadcrumbs. I have the right to refuse something. I have the right to my own taste, and I won't allow war to ruin it for me the way it has ruined everything else. I'd rather go hungry; at least then my hunger is self-chosen. I want to act as a survivor, not a victim.

Translated from Arabic by Sandra Hetzl