“Eyes of Gaza”: Chronicles of Life Under Israeli Bombs
A book by Palestinian journalist Plestia Alaqad
HAVANA TIMES – We speak with Plestia Alaqad, an award-winning Palestinian journalist whose on-the-ground reporting from Gaza captured global attention during the early days of Israel’s military assault two years ago. Then just 21 years old, her video dispatches went viral and offered the world a rare glimpse of life under bombardment. Alaqad, who fled Gaza with her family in late 2023, has now published The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resilience, drawn from the diary she kept in the weeks following October 7, 2023.
Reflecting on the last two years, Alaqad says that “Israel succeeded in isolating and dividing Gaza from the rest of the world” and making daily life intolerable for Palestinians. “They’ve been displaced, bombed, trapped and starved deliberately by Israel.”
Alaqad also stresses that the story of Palestine goes beyond just the last two years. “History didn’t start on October 7. It’s been two years of the genocide, but it’s been 77 years, if not more, of the ongoing Nakba that started in 1948,” she says.
Transcript
AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org. I’m Amy Goodman, with Juan González.
We end today’s show with Plestia Alaqad, award-winning Palestinian journalist. She was just 21 years old when Israel’s bombardment of Gaza began two years ago. Her online videos went viral, were seen around the world. This is a video from October 9th, 2023.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: Well, my neighbors didn’t evacuate, as well. They have their windows down. Here are their windows. And here is the family. They’re gathering all together, also in a place far away from the wind— [explosions] I was trying to explain things, but I think you can hear them now. I’ll go check on my parents.
AMY GOODMAN: Plestia Alaqad now has 4 million followers on Instagram. She’s just published her first book. It’s called The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resilience, based on excerpts of the diary she kept in the weeks after October 7th.
On October 19th, she wrote, quote, “This isn’t an aggression any more; it’s a genocide. There isn’t another word that can describe the scale of violence I see in front of me.”
Two weeks later, she wrote, quote, “Every night, I wonder if it will be the last of my life. Will there be a tomorrow? I try to look at my family, to gaze at and memorize their faces, just in case.”
Plestia Alaqad joins us now from a studio in Beirut, Lebanon, where she’s studying media.
Plestia, thanks so much for being with us. You know, you left us in that video talking about checking on your parents. It was a devastating video, because as you were speaking, there were bombs going off outside. You opened the window, and you showed it was just a cloud you couldn’t see beyond. Talk about your experience of the last two years.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: Unfortunately, Israel succeeded in isolating and dividing Gaza from the rest of the world, meaning your experience as a Gazan Palestinian person living in Gaza is different than your experience if you’re living elsewhere. For example, kids in Gaza grow up afraid of the sky. When you look at the sky in Gaza, you can’t differentiate: Is this a cloud, or is this smoke? The whole time, you’re listening to the sounds of drones, quadcopters, airstrikes and bombs. You can’t even listen to the sounds of birds, like any other normal person. And even the air that is in Gaza, it’s polluted because of the bombs and airstrikes and everything. And in Gaza, when you see a tent, tent is like displacement, a cold place. It has a negative meaning. But outside of Gaza, tents are usually something nice. “Oh, let’s go camping. Let’s use them for the weekend.” And that’s the Gazan experience for two years. They’ve been displaced, bombed, trapped and starved deliberately by Israel in Gaza.
JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And by your metric, as you write in your diary, quote, “I am four Israeli aggressions old.” Can you take us back to that day, to two years ago, to the beginning of the Israeli attack, and the toll it has taken on you and your loved ones?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: History didn’t start on October 7, 2023. It’s been two years of the genocide, but it’s been 77 years, if not more, of the ongoing Nakba that started in 1948.
I remember on October 7, when I woke up, I listened. Like, I heard sounds of bombs. And I slept again. Then I woke up again. I immediately, like, jumped out of bed. I went, I saw my mom. She was already on the phone, calling the delivery guy. “We want bread. We want flour. We want this and that.” And this is a tradition that I know. Whenever you see like a family member doing that and ordering these stuff, I know that something bad about to happen.
I then looked out of the window. I saw how full and crowded the streets were and the supermarkets were. Like, everyone was just out buying stuff and so on. And I knew that something bad is happening, but I never expected that it will be a genocide that lasts for two years,
JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And you also write at one point in your diaries, quote, “Priority number one, aside from not getting killed, is connecting to the internet so i can update my Instagram.” Can you talk about the difficulty of being able to tell — get out the word to the rest of the world of what was happening?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: As a journalist, you’re supposed to be protected, because you’re a journalist. It’s a profession. You’re doing your job. But, unfortunately, in Gaza, journalism is apparently a crime, and Israel is targeting and killing journalists. Around 270, if not more, journalists have been killed. And the reason I’m saying “if not more,” because how are we supposed to know the up-to-date numbers if the people who are also counting the number of dead in Gaza are also getting killed and targeted?
I wrote that on Instagram, because as a journalist, my job was super difficult. Like, even connecting to the internet was a challenge. And even, like, charging your phone, charging your cameras, finding a power bank, all of that was challenging. You were experiencing a genocide, living it, knowing any minute you’ll be killed and targeted, yet you were trying to tell and show the world what’s happening, even though you knew that that puts your life at risk.
AMY GOODMAN: Plestia, last year, Amnesty International Australia gave you its inaugural Human Rights Defender Award. I wanted to play a compilation of your reporting from Gaza that they highlighted.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: It’s around 4 p.m. No electricity, no water, no internet. Literally just the sounds of bombs. And I’m here.
I’m standing right now inside the first refugee camp in Gaza Strip.
I’m at Al-Nasser Hospital right now. There are 80 premature babies in the NICU room.
Yesterday, the Israeli warplanes targeted a church where around 400 civilians were inside it.
These are the equipments for a journalist that got murdered by the Israeli forces.
As you can see, we can hear the sounds of bombs right now.
Day by day, I’m surprised by the things I see.
Even during a genocide, a war, ethnic cleansing and displacement and everything, I try to show the Palestinians living in Gaza, who they are, how they are kind to one another, how they are nice even during these difficult times.
AMY GOODMAN: That’s Plestia Alaqad reporting from the ground in Gaza. The BBC named her in its 100 Women of the Year list. And now, a few years later — I mean, Plestia was 21 at the time. She has a new book. She has a first book, The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resilience. If you can talk about what those 45 days were like, that you’re covering in this book of your reporting then? You’re studying now media in Beirut. But can you talk about your decision to leave? And what has happened to the rest of your family?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: It wasn’t really a decision to leave Gaza. What options do you have? It’s either you stay in Gaza and wait to be one of the thousands that are killed, or, if you’re lucky enough, you get the chance to leave, because not even everyone has the chance to leave if they want. The borders are closed, and you need to have another passport. You need to have like a cousin, family member who has another passport to be able to help you out. So, even leaving Gaza is a privilege that not everyone can afford or can have.
When I was in Gaza for 45 days, I thought it was the worst days of my life. And I thought, “Oh my god! Like, I can’t believe this is actually happening.” But what I didn’t know, that the genocide will still be going on for two years. My colleagues, my cousins, my friends, most of them are still in Gaza. They’re still on the ground. The journalists are still reporting. My friends are still trying to survive. So, my experience of 45 days is nothing compared to the experience of the people who are still there and trapped in Gaza.
But the reason I chose to write this book, The Eyes of Gaza, is because I’ve always had a diary. Writing is what I usually do. And for the first time, I wanted it to be us writing about us, not just some people speaking over us and writing about our experience. I wanted us to have our own voice. We already have voices. We just need help in amplifying our voices, not in replacing our voices. So I made sure to write a book written by a person from Gaza to the world.
JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And, Plestia, in that, in that diary, you also talk about hearing of the solidarity movements of young people and students around the world. And you write, quote, “It’s beyond what I ever imagined. Here’s the thing: the students aren’t just calling for a ceasefire. They’re also calling for the establishment of the right of return, and insisting on a Palestine that is free from the River Jordan all the way to the Mediterranean Sea.” Talk about this, the impact of these protest movements on the people of Gaza.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: Honestly, as a Palestinian person, the bar has always been low. The expectations has always been almost nonexistent. But right now the world proved us wrong. Millions of people worldwide are protesting. They now know our names, they know our stories, and they are amplifying our voices.
I’m honestly beyond proud and impressed especially with the younger generations, who are making sure that the genocide doesn’t go unnoticed, and they’re super vocal and outspoken about it. And right now the Global Sumud Flotilla and what they’re doing, what Greta is doing, what all the other activists are doing, how they’re literally risking their lives just to deliver aid in Gaza. And even though aid wasn’t delivered, their message was delivered, and it gave Palestinians hope, because Palestinian people, we’re not expecting from the rest of the world, “Oh, pause your life because we’re getting killed,” but what we’re expecting is solidarity and to be seen. And the word has proved to us that we are seen and that they’re standing on the right side of history. And for that, me and all the other Palestinians, I’m sure we’re all very grateful.
AMY GOODMAN: Plestia, could you read your poem “Only in Gaza,” that you include in your book? If you don’t have it with you, if you could —
PLESTIA ALAQAD: OK. So, for me, this —
AMY GOODMAN: If you could talk about it?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: I have it with me. OK. So, for me, this poem is still a poem in progress. Like, it’s not finished yet. And I hope one day I’ll continue this poem, and it will be on a positive note, a hopeful note, where the situation in Gaza would be so much better.
Only in Gaza;
You sleep counting rockets rather than stars.
You wake up, if you woke up, on the sounds of birds rather than —
OK, OK, I need to repeat.
Only in Gaza;
You sleep counting rockets rather than stars.
You wake up, if you wake up, to the sounds of bombs rather than birds.
Only in Gaza;
You sleep not knowing if, or how, you’ll wake up. In Gaza,
You sleep in your house,
And you wake up under the rubble. In Gaza,
You sleep with your body parts whole,
And you wake up missing a hand or a leg. In Gaza,
You sleep beside family and friends,
And the next day you are on your own. Only in Gaza;
People celebrate birthdays while war echoes in the background, then welcome you into a tent with warm hands and a cup of tea.
Only in Gaza;
Despite the pain,
People remain.
Not just survivors,
But warriors.
AMY GOODMAN: Plestia reading “Only in Gaza,” which is included in The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resilience. Plestia, you say that you prefer to write and to speak, when talking about Gaza, in English, because you find it less painful. Can you talk about that?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: English is my second language, not my first language, so I obviously understand Arabic more, and the weight of Arabic words always hits differently, because it’s my mother tongue. So, I feel like whenever I speak in English, I can hide behind the language. That’s number one. And number two, I want the whole world to know about what’s happening, especially that international journalists are not allowed in. And that’s why I made sure, since day one, to speak in English, to make sure everyone knows and sees what’s happening in Gaza, and to not limit the audience to Arabic-speaking audience only.
JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And could you talk, as well, about the community of journalists that are still — that are still there covering the war, the comradeship and the bonds that you built together?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: One thing I always wonder is: Who reports on the reporters? Journalists and reporters in Gaza are living the genocide while also reporting it, are facing starvation while also reporting on it. They’re reporting on stories of families who lost loved ones while they’re also grieving, as well. I feel like the most difficult job in the world right now is to be a journalist in Gaza, because they’re trying to be a journalist while they know they’ll be targeted, they know they’re not safe, they know they’re putting their family’s life at risk just because of a profession they chose, and all of that just to show the world what’s happening in Gaza.
AMY GOODMAN: And can you comment on the number of Palestinian journalists — among them, most recently, Anas al-Sharif, but more journalists have been killed since Anas was killed. But what this has meant to you and the people you’ve lost in your life?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: I’m honestly in disbelief of when journalism has become a crime instead of being, like — being a profession. So, I don’t understand how is it possible for the world to watch journalists getting killed. And where’s the International Committee of Protecting Journalists? Like, is there anyone who’s going to do anything about it?
JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And what would you hope for the rest of the world to take from your book and your experiences?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: So, my book is my story and the stories of other people that I meet along the way, and I make sure to mention their story and their name. At some point, the book will make you cry, will make you laugh, will make you joyful, will make you tearful. So I just hope people will do something with all of these emotions, because emotions alone are not enough. Emotions are only powerful when you convert them into actions.
AMY GOODMAN: Your book includes the dedication: “To Gaza, the soul of our souls. All … I am, and all … I will ever become … is for you and because of you.” Do you hope to return, Plestia, to Gaza?
PLESTIA ALAQAD: Of course, I always hope. Of course, I always hope to return to Gaza. And I find that a very weird question when people ask it to me, because it’s not like it’s even an option right now. The borders are closed. I can’t just go back right now, even if I want to. People can’t leave, even if they want to. And I can’t go to any Western country easily. I need a lot of paperwork and visa processes to be able to go. But these people who have powerful passport can go to my homeland. Meanwhile, I’m just stuck in here. I can’t go back home, and I can’t travel to any country that I want. So, I just find it a bit weird how —
AMY GOODMAN: Plestia, we have to leave it there.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: — almost in every interview, people ask me, “Do you want to go back?” —
AMY GOODMAN: I thank you so much for being with us.
PLESTIA ALAQAD: — even though it’s not an option.
AMY GOODMAN: But the show is ending, Plestia Alaqad. The Eyes of Gaza is her new book.