In a land where ancient olive trees whisper secrets of the past, my name is Soraya, and I am twelve years old. This sacred soil has been my home, but for over a year, our lives have been shadowed by the spectre of war.
Our struggle for freedom is etched into the very stones, a battle spanning over eighty years, filled with tales of resilience and hope.
It all started at dawn, one year ago.
“Soraya, wake up! It is Fajr.” It was mama. She always wakes me up for Fajr at exactly 5:30 am. I got up from bed, went to the bathroom, made wudu and came out to pray. When I finished, I sat down on my prayer mat to read Quran and do dhikr to Allah (SWT).
After that, I also made my daily dua: “Oh Allah, I am calling upon you, by your beautiful names, and your exalted attributes, which fill the heavens and the Earth, and which are known and unknown to us, to make me among those who are guided to the straight path, and to make me among those who are blessed with your mercy and forgiveness. Ameen.”
Then I went back to bed I went since I had school in the morning. I was a lucky girl, Alhamdulillah. Going to school and having access to shelter is a big privilege in my country.
What I didn’t know back then that my life was going to change in exactly half an hour……. BOOM! “SORAYA! WAKE UP!” BANG!! I was very confused. For some reason, there were falling buildings and rubble on the road. I looked up at my mum and saw worry lines all across her face. “Quick! Put on your hijab and come outside.”
I noticed her voice was filled with worry. This is so weird. What was going on, and why was my mum so nervous? Even though I was really shaken, I put on my scarf in a hurry and ran down the stairs out of the building. Outside, I found destruction everywhere. There was no place safe from the sudden bombs. When I finally found my family, I ran towards them and hugged my two younger sisters tightly.
“Soraya!” I turned to see who was speaking. It was my dad. And what he said to me were the last words that I heard coming from his mouth. “My daughter, please remember what I am about to tell you,” he urged me.
I nodded, and Baba continued, “The Prophet ﷺ said: ‘A group of my nation will continue to be victorious upon the religion, overpowering their enemies. None who oppose them will harm them, except what afflicts them of difficult circumstances, until Allah brings his command while they are like so.’ The land of Palestine is a blessed land, and Allah will bless those who are patient and steadfast upon it.’ So you see, Soraya, be patient, no matter what happens, and Allah will reward you. Never forget that wherever you are, Allah is with you. And only He can bless you. Be sure to take care of your sisters if anything happens to us, by the will of Allah.”
I promised my father I will do everything that he asked of me, and I will follow in our Prophet’s footsteps.
Allah decided to take my parents back on that day. CRASH! The bomb fell, and I held my sisters tight as we ducked behind some boulders. After the dust cleared, I peeked behind our hiding place and saw two lifeless bodies on the floor. One a man with fluffy brown hair, and the other a woman with a thin flower scarf wrapped around her head. My eyes filled with tears at the sight of my parents. I huddled my sisters tight, and we cried into each other’s shoulders. In the present… I had become my sister’s new mother, comforting them when they were sad, and trying to feed them crumbs that I find around us.
And during all that I kept repeating the words of my dad before he died, just like he wanted me to. Living in a tent was harder than anyone ever knew. It was not like outdoor camping. Whenever it rained, the dirt ground got all muddy and sticky. But I stayed patient.
There were no separate rooms, so when I want to do some revision from school, my sisters would entertain each other loudly. I stayed cool and went outside. When I thought about the pain that I was feeling inside me from the loss, I was persistent and knew that Allah will guide this beautiful land to peace.
I never thought why I was the one to suffer, why I was the one to lose everything. Because I am not the only one. There are millions of children who are lonely. I am sure, that if I keep following in Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ footsteps, and I stay on the straight path, Allah will bless me and everybody who has suffered in our Land of the Prophets. Living in a house made of cloth is hard, especially with two younger sisters, but Allah is with me.
The End
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