What were you before October 7?

I didn’t know such beauty existed.

I started this job in October 2022. I moved to this city a month and a half after the heartbreak of my father’s demise with medical bills still to pay and leaving my family, especially my grief-stricken mother, behind at home. The job was always painful and it never got better. I tried to get into a routine of self improvement to take my mind off the rut at work. I used to go for runs in the mornings. Then a shower followed by a cup of tea and then a chapter or two of some book before heading for work. I was in Malaysia for a work trip for nearly all of August. The occasional travel to its various offices was pretty much the only perk of that job. I had a jolly good time in that country. It was so green. The weather wasn’t bad. Beautiful beaches. Food was nice. Everyone would smile — the friendliest people I had ever seen. Late night bike rides with a cool breeze by the lake were heavenly. Even the roads were calm. No one would ever honk. Gaza wasn’t on my mind. The occasional updates of a killing here and an arrest there would buzz my phone, but I would forget soon after. September back in this city was uneventful but I was wistful of my time in the Far East. I longed for their coffee and nasi kandar. As the memories of Malaysia grew distant, that fateful Saturday morning jolted me out of the slumber, the rut, the meaninglessness.

Once the euphoria of the prison break died down due to the unhinged barbarism of the Israelis, the prayers became regular and longer. Looking at the phone and crying buckets of tears in the solitude of my dusty old room became frequent. I was all alone so there was no check on the depressive feelings, nothing to take my eyes off the near-constant heartbreak transmitted via my phone. Work, food, prayers, tears. When will this end? “How many will they kill?” asked someone. “Can they kill everyone in Gaza?” This was still in November 2023, mind you. The brief ceasefire and prisoner exchange gave some hope, but hope is all it was in the end. The killings resumed in no time. The propaganda was non-stop. There was an Israeli barbarian in every comment thread on Reddit. No tweet was devoid of a Zionist huckster. The comment sections of articles here were full of them. Same old canards. Same old lies. Same old propaganda. For all their supposedly high IQs, the Ashkenazi have nothing original to offer. Even their settler project is ersatz, unimaginative, nakedly violent like the original such projects of yore. The one difference perhaps is immunity granted to the Zionists.

I hadn’t seen the intestines popping out from the stomach of an infant. I didn’t know what a cracked skull of a child looked like. I had never seen a man’s head completely melted on his vest. I hadn’t seen a headless child. I certainly hadn’t seen dozens of headless children. I had never seen a man grieve over the loss of over 70 members of his family and dig through the rubble to find their remains. I had never seen a man shout out the names of his children over the rubble of his once-home in the faint hope they would hear and respond. I hadn’t seen shell-shocked children who couldn’t stop shivering. I hadn’t seen hundreds of such children. I hadn’t seen children eat grass to survive. I had never seen men’s bodies being eaten by dogs as they lay unclaimed on the roadside. I hadn’t seen a person burned alive with an IV drip still attached to his arm. I had never seen a human body made into unrecognisable mush after being run over by a bulldozer. I hadn’t seen a father carrying his son’s dismembered body in grocery bags. I hadn’t seen family members being handed over the remains of their loved ones in grocery bags by weight. I hadn’t seen a father witness his son being run over by a bulldozer, made into unrecognisable mush, and carry on reporting for months. I hadn’t seen so much misery, so much helplessness, so much blood. I didn’t know that we were capable of seeing with our very own eyes a live-streamed genocide run for over 400 days and still not bring it to stop. I didn’t know such barbaric acts would not just be committed but broadcast to the whole world for over 400 days straight.

I also didn’t know about the endless reservoirs of perseverance, steadfastness, and resilience. I didn’t know about people’s ability to run at full pelt with an injured child in their hands in the faint hope that their speed in reaching the hospital could potentially save the child’s life. I didn’t know of doctors who would lead the funeral prayers of their children in the middle of a genocide, bury them next to their hospital, and get back to work. I didn’t know of people who despite their hunger offered their food to others. I didn’t know people who would rush to save another innocent life despite being fully aware that they would be targeted during their rescue effort. I didn’t know that a human was capable of rummaging through rubble with their bare hands every hour, every day, for over a year, looking for survivors. I didn’t know of people who found it within them to go through another day while bombs dropped all around them and over them. I didn’t know people who, despite the whole world failing them, kept documenting their own genocide in the belief that their work held meaning and will make a difference. I didn’t know fathers who went looking for flour for their starving families despite the risk of being bombed. I didn’t know mothers who took pride in the martyrdom of all of their children and saw God’s light in their endless suffering. I didn’t know of bravery that would fling one last stick at its oppressor before certain death. I didn’t know about people who only ever thanked God no matter how much they suffered. I didn’t know such beauty existed.

I hadn’t felt a lot of the feelings I have felt in the aftermath of October 7. I wasn’t this before October 7. I don’t think I will ever go back to being whatever I was before October 7.

---

Help me continue this work…

I have had to start a fundraiser on my Ko-fi page: https://ko-fi.com/palestinewillbefree. Thanks to the generosity of my readers, I am nearly 60 percent of the way there. It would be amazing if you could lend a helping hand and push me to the finish line. Your paid subscriptions here or on Ko-fi or Patreon also go a long way. Thank you for reading and your support.

---