I dream of a peaceful, drone-free Gaza Israel-Palestine conflict

Since the ceasefire came into force, the sky has changed in Gaza. There is an unusual peace. We no longer hear the sounds of Israeli fighter planes or helicopters. Quadcopters are also gone, but drones – “zenanas” – remain.

The resonance of Israeli drones is unambiguous. It has been our constant companion in Gaza for many years as Israel developed its drone technology using us as test subjects.

During the massacre, the proximity and volume of the echoes increased, sending a clear message: the drones were hungry for the souls of Gaza’s residents. For 15 months, these flying machines controlled where we went, what we did, and who lived or died. It felt as if the occupation had placed a surveillance camera over every living soul in Gaza. It seemed as if the birds outnumbered the drones in the Gaza sky.

For 15 months, the buzzing sound never stopped – day or night. It will penetrate the minds of the people of Gaza, both young and old, and will torment them. It will destroy our sanity and our optimism that the war will ever stop.

With swarms of drones in the sky, even the simplest activities were a challenge. As you cook food, the sound creates a dark background, breaking your concentration. You would lose your temper and burn what little food you had.

Drones will grate on your nerves, irritate you and other family members, create stress and increase arguments.

“The drones are eating my brain,” an old woman at the camp where we stayed once told me. He thought the constant buzzing was a chronic, incurable headache. It would get worse at night, boring into his brain and robbing him of his sleep. If she fell asleep, she would have nightmares of bombing and destruction.

Drones terrorize not only with their buzzing and surveillance, but also with their arbitrary mass killing. Being out after dark means you risk becoming a target. So just before nightfall, the Palestinians would return to their tents and take shelter. Children, who usually play outside, will also remain there.

At night, if you feel the need to go to the toilet, you will have two options: to wet yourself or risk your life to relieve yourself. When you put pressure on your bladder, trying to stop it, panic and fear will take over your mind.

I know many families who used buckets for defecation at night and emptied them in the morning.

Even bathing became a dangerous affair in the displacement camps. No person can afford to light a fire in the evening to heat water as it may attract drones. So you have to carry out this process during the day, pour water on your body and wash off the soap as quickly as you can, playing the game with your imagination: what if there is firing from a drone? You tried to get dressed as quickly as possible because the prospect of dying naked was unbearable.

The massacre added a new feature to these drones: tricking Palestinians into coming out of shelter.

Imagine, during a sleepless night, you hear a hungry cat meowing. Moved by your human compassion, you go to give him something to eat. You are hungry too, but deep inside you say to yourself, “I can manage, but the cat can’t find food on its own.” You step out to throw a piece of food and suddenly your act of kindness is ended by a gunshot.

Drones and quadcopters used various recorded sounds to deceive their victims: a crying baby, a child screaming for help. He preyed on the Palestinians’ compassion and solidarity, which persisted despite the unbearable suffering of war.

We had become so used to being disturbed by drones that in the rare moments when their sound stopped, we felt that something was wrong.

My colleague Wissel told me that one night she noticed she couldn’t hear any drones. She was nervous. He woke up his family and urged them to pack their bags. He thought, this peace is inauspicious.

He remembered what had happened in Rafah one night when the drones had fallen silent: a terrible attack had been carried out that had devastated their neighbourhood. His family managed to escape.

Wiesel was right. The silence of the drone once again became a signal of impending attack. As Israeli forces began bombarding the “safe zone” where he and his family had taken refuge, they once again fled for their lives.

Today, as the ceasefire goes into effect, the immediate threat of being killed by an Israeli attack may temporarily disappear, but drone surveillance and discussions continue. Drones continue to take away our sense of security and autonomy.

The prospect of drone-free skies remains a distant dream, intrinsically linked to the broader struggle for justice, self-determination and peace. Only with the actual end of the occupation can this vision of an unencumbered sky truly become a reality. Until that happens, drones will continue to eat our brains.

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