EDITOR’S NOTE: The following article contains themes of violence, post-traumatic stress, and death. Reader discretion is advised.
When history is left interpreted by its victors, wars paint tyrants as mighty conquerors, their greed remembered as benevolent triumphs. But for those caught in the crossfire—tortured, displaced, and killed—their sufferings simply remain in the footnotes of history.
Sittie* is a Filipino mother who lived with her family in Gaza for more than two decades. Seven months ago, she was repatriated to the Philippines, together with her daughters, grandchildren, and other Filipino-Palestinian families. Securing a new home was challenging, but they eventually found sanctuary in a small compound they call “Little Gaza.” It symbolized a fresh start at life, away from the barrage that was slowly erasing their people from history’s pages.
But starting anew seems impossible with the memory of Palestine still hanging over them—a longing for the land that took care of its people and the people who cared deeply for the sanctity and sovereignty of their land.
Bullets love any flesh
“Napakagaan ng buhay doon,” Sittie reminisces. For 26 years, she lived peacefully with her family of six, surrounded by a community that never ran short of compassion. Everyone had food on their table. Fellow refugee Aisha* shares that no one was left to starve because the neighbors looked after each other. “Kahit may giyera na, may palengke pa rin so that the other people can buy their goods [at] may makain,”she points out.
(Life was easy there. Even during the siege, the markets were still open so people could still buy food and have something to eat.)
Unparalleled as their sense of kinship may be, it was a small form of defense to cope with Israel’s decades-long apartheid—the systematic oppression of Jewish Israelis over Palestinians through policies and police power. But as armed hostilities escalated against them last October 2023, Gazans were confronted by the dreadful truth of their fate under Israeli forces.
During the siege in October, Sittie recalls at least 30 dead bodies laid out on the streets. Residential buildings that housed over a dozen families turned to dust; children were buried under the rubble overnight.
There were two kinds of attacks orchestrated by Israeli forces, Sittie narrates. One was physical harm; the other was psychological. The night before Sittie left Gaza, her neighbor received a call that their area was about to be bombed. Families frantically ran as far as they could barefooted—only to discover it was all just a ruse.
She realized that the Israeli military was simply playing mind games. “Isang click lang ng kamay nila, babagsak ang bomba sa mga bahay namin,” Sittie says exasperated, knowing the military could kill whoever whenever they wanted to. “Hindi lang isang tao—buong pamilya ginagawa nilang mga laruan.”
(With just a click, bombs would land on our houses. They’re not just playing with the life of one person but the lives of entire families.)
As Palestinians try to run away from the claws of death, wherever they go, the air hangs heavy with the scent of decay and rust. They remain in search for pieces of their hearts through any sign of life from their family.
The repatriation list
For Filipino-Palestinian refugees, coming back to the Philippines was not coming back home—it was fleeing from home.
Their arrival in the country was met with support from the Philippine government and humanitarian organizations, which the expatriate families are massively grateful for. With the help of the Philippines-Palestine Friendship Association and donations from kindhearted individuals, the evacuees were able to provide for their own means of survival. But in the weeks that followed, refugee assistance quickly dwindled.
On top of these struggles, post-war trauma continues to plague them, especially among younger members of the family.
Back in Gaza, the oncoming noise of an aircraft did not faze one of Aisha’s grandchildren. But now, even within the security of their new home, the rumble of a passing airplane causes the child to hide in panic.
In hopes of protecting them from a similar fear, Lina*, a fellow refugee, recounts how she would tell her grandchildren that the sounds of airstrikes were merely balloons getting popped “Sinasabi ko na lang, ‘Yay!’ Ganun na lang para hindi sila matakot.” But even so, Lina says her grandchildren always knew to run and hide when they would hear these “balloons.”
(I just tell them, ‘Yay!’ Just so they don’t get scared.)
But for the Filipino-Palestinian matriarchs, their anxieties are centered on loved ones they had to leave behind. While the repatriation list included the immediate family of Filipino nationals, some Palestinian kin either chose to stay behind or were restricted from crossing over to Egypt. As of The LaSallian‘s last conversation with Aisha, her stepson was one of those who remained in Gaza, looking after his aunt and grandmother as they evacuated to safer areas. At first, her stepson showed an indomitable spirit, assuring his family that he was capable of protecting his relatives.
However, time passed, and the bombs remained unyielding; the pull of the war’s gravity started to consume him with fear and anguish. “He cannot go on moving around all by himself in Palestine, not knowing whether he will still live to see us,” Aisha laments.
Dreaming of freedom
Estranged and adrift, the refugees endure emotional turmoil. Aisha remarks in Filipino, “I’d send a message of condolence to the others, all the while I’m also mourning the death of my loved one.”
For Palestinians, their destination remains unclear as their destiny is put under the mercy of a ceasefire. Although relief donations like food and medicine have been helpful to the citizens inside Gaza, Lina points out that many people are already dying while the number of casualties continues to rise. There are not enough medical professionals who could tend to the wounded.
For Sittie, Lina, and Aisha, their call is clear: end the genocide now. They encourage people to continue raising awareness about the conflict in Palestine, especially its history with Israel. It is vital to recognize that this is a fight for other humans to experience their inherent right to freely exist—to not live every waking second in survival mode, cherish the love of their family, and simply see another day in peace.
And despite everything they have lost, these Filipino-Palestinians still hope to return to Gaza. “Kahit wala na kaming titirahan doon,” Lina declares unwavering. “Babangon kami. Babalik.”
(Even though we’ve lost our homes, we will rise and return.)
*Names with asterisks (*) are pseudonyms
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2024 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2024.
