The constant struggle to be OK

GAZA CITY // After Israel decided to ignore the EU and complete its offensive in the Gaza Strip, we - the people of Gaza - worried about the coming days. From our side, we are defending ourselves, our land and our rights, and want to live normally like people all over the world. On Sunday morning, we woke up early after struggling to get some sleep, but we did not expect that more catastrophe was on the way.

As we got up from our beds we began talking about the previous night and the explosions that went off all around the city. Everyone was OK, so we started thinking about our friends who are closer to the attacked locations than we are. At night we returned to the same scene of darkness, sitting in the living room lit only by candles. We went to sleep early on Sunday night exhausted, hoping for some silence so we could get to sleep.

I refused to sleep in my bed in the second floor with the family; I felt that something could happen outside and at the same time, I had managed to charge my laptop for a while, so I opened it, lay on the sofa covered in my blanket and began writing about what was going on. The night show started at 12am as the air strikes began hitting many locations and the heavy sound of the Israeli tanks appeared. Both of my sisters and my parents came down to the first floor to sleep because they were scared. The sound of the tanks' attacks was so loud we thought they were at the top of the street.

We sat there for 2½ hours until the sound of the tanks became distant, and then they went back to their beds, while I stayed down on the sofa. I turned on the radio to listen to the news: they were saying the Israeli tanks invaded the El Sheikh Ejleen neighbourhood about two kilometres from my house. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. Nobody could. In the morning I phoned one of my friends who lives in that neighbourhood and he told me about what was going there.

The tanks entered the area from the street beside the beach, from the fields and between the trees, and started shooting everything around - houses, trees, a mosque and electricity lines. Once the electricity was cut they became more and more wild with their attacks. Tens of thousands of people were running in the streets, barefoot and covering themselves with their blankets, terrified by the explosions and looking for a safe place. Children were crying, women were screaming and men were shouting, "Allahu Akbar!"

In that offensive, more than 19 people were killed, many others were injured and so many civilian houses and buildings were destroyed. After noon we got electricity for three hours, giving us the chance to see TV and to follow up on the news. It was unbelievable, as the number of people killed in the Gaza Strip grew to more than 900 and more than 3,200 people were injured. Most of the killed and injured were children and women.

That night around 7 I went to my room to get some rest. Then suddenly the window blew open and my room was lit up with a white light. There was a loud explosion. An F-16 had hit some of the empty houses in our neighbourhood. The house they attacked is in the block beside ours and next to the home of my friend Ramadan. I tried phoning Ramadan, but he was not replying. On Tuesday morning I went over to Ramadan's house during the ceasefire period to check on him and his family.

When I arrived I was completely shocked: the street was full of devastated houses and rubble and the house that was hit was completely destroyed and had left a big hole on the side of Ramadan's house. I could see right in. All of the windows and doors were broken and one of the walls had collapsed on top of his car, which was completely destroyed. I called for Ramadan and he replied and told me to come upstairs. He told me many of his family members had been injured.

"This is Gaza in 2009," he said. "Thanks to Allah for everything, that we are OK and our situation is better than many other people." This is our life all here, just trying to be OK. Muhammad Abu Shaban, 22, studies English and French literature at Al Azhar University. He is a translator and project manager for the General Union of the Cultural Centres. He lives in Gaza City with his family.