The ceasefire will not bring our lives back. Israel-Palestine conflict

Lots of noise – missiles and explosions, drone sounds, screams, cries of “martyrs, martyrs”. Glass breaking, doors slamming, buildings collapsing, fires blazing, thunder, lightning, wind, breaths of death, darkness and ashes. They’re all still on my mind.

I left Gaza almost a year ago, but these images and sounds still haunt me. I left everything behind – my home, my friends, my extended family – but couldn’t shake off the echoes of war.

Here, in Cairo, I am reminded again and again of the trauma of what I saw, heard and felt in the first four months of the war in Gaza.

When I hear the sound of an airplane in the sky, my heart races with fear, thinking it is a war plane. When I hear fireworks, I get scared, imagining that they are bomb explosions.

I thought exile would bring security and peace, but it turned out to be an extension of war.

The death and destruction taking place in Gaza still dominates our lives. The sorrow, pain and struggle for survival that we thought we had left behind still haunts us.

We don’t live in rain-soaked tents and we’re not starving; The sound of bombs is not real – it is merely an echo of memories in our minds. But we are still living in misery.

My father, who was the breadwinner in our family, did not get any job for several months. When he did so, he was paid very little. We face rising debt and cannot afford basic necessities.

Meanwhile, we remain immersed in the terror of Gaza. Bombings, mass murder, suffering in torn tents – it’s streamed to us hour after hour on messaging apps.

All my Palestinian friends here seem to be in the same situation – surrounded by war, living in pain and despair.

My friend Dua recently told me, “I wish I would have died rather than live with him.” Soon after the genocide began her family sent her to Cairo to complete her studies in peace. “When I said goodbye I thought I would never see him again,” she said, sobbing.

A few days after arriving in Egypt, thinking that life had given him a better opportunity to study abroad, he tried to contact his family, but received no response. She remained worried until she received the devastating news of his martyrdom.

The pain was unbearable and she failed in her studies. To this day, she is struggling to pay her apartment rent and told me that her landlord will soon evict her because she has not paid. She is an orphan, alone in exile, and may soon be homeless.

Another friend, Rawan, dreaming of a bright future, had been studying in Egypt for a few years before the war began. On October 10, 2023, his house was destroyed in a massive explosion, killing his entire family. Only his mother, who miraculously survived despite serious injuries, and his married sister, who lived in another house, survived.

Rawan told me she misses her father’s encouraging messages, the support of her brothers Mohammed and Mahmoud, and the innocent laughter of her sister Ruba. He never completed his education. She has become a shadow of herself.

Another friend, Nada, is in Cairo with her sister. The girls had to leave their parents and brother in Gaza, as their names were not on the list of people allowed to pass through the Rafah crossing.

In Cairo, Nada felt lost, isolated and scared. She tried to reapply for travel for her parents and brother, but occupation forces stormed Rafa and closed the crossing. At that time, she told me that she felt like all the doors of life were closed in front of her.

Nada and her sister live alone and struggle without the support of relatives. Stress and sadness have taken a toll. Nada has lost a lot of weight and now says she looks like a skeleton.

She told me that the fear of harassment and kidnapping has made them reluctant to leave the apartment they are living in.

“We yearn for our past lives in every way,” she says.

We do so, but we also know that our past lives are lost. Even if the war ends, nothing will ever be the same. No one will be able to compensate for that bitter loss.

It is believed that the ceasefire taking effect today will stop the fighting, but it is not clear whether it will end the war or not. More than 120 people have died since it was announced on Wednesday. And we know that more people will die because conditions will not improve. Gaza is no longer livable.

Even if there is lasting peace, the Israeli government will set its own conditions for continuing the blockade and oppression of the population. Reconstruction – if it occurs – will continue for many years. That is why we, as a family, have decided to start a new life in exile despite the challenges we face.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.