April 25th is the day on which we remember the liberation of Italy from the fascist regime. Never before has it been important to celebrate this anniversary, looking in particular at the events of populations harassed by violence and oppression, fighting to recover the right to Peace and self-determination, the first ingredients of true freedom. For this reason we decided to publish the story of Yara Khaled Abushab, 22 year old medical student from Gaza, arrived in Italy on October 1, 2023 for a one-month study program. Yara was no longer able to return to her land because, only a handful of days after her arrival in Italy, Gaza was the object of Israeli military aggression, which is still ongoing. In Palestine the girl lost relatives, friends and university colleagues, killed by IDF bombs, which razed her family’s home to the ground. While she continues to take university exams in our country, to which she has addressed a still pending asylum application, Yara is trying by all means to help his family members escape the Strip. His story acts as a megaphone for those of tens of thousands of young people in Gaza, surprised by the horrors of war while cultivating dreams and hope for the future.
My name is Yara Khaled Abushab, I am 22 years old and I am a medical student. My story begins in the heart of Gaza, where I grew up amid the merciless rhythms of war. My family is originally from Jaffa, which was forced to abandon in 1948, due to the Nakba. I was therefore already born a refugee in Gaza. Here, since 2002, I have survived four wars. The desire to make a difference is something I have carried with me since I was a child. The instinct to become a person who heals in a world plagiarized by suffering emerged during the 2008 war. I was in second grade. I remember the confusion at school and the fear in the eyes of the people around me, but also the image that inspired me: the doctors and ambulances rushing to help the injured. I realized that I wanted to be like them.
Thanks to intense study, I achieved top marks in high school, thus being able to access medical studies. My academic journey finally began in Gaza, at Al Azhar University, where I discovered a passion for study and was able to continue to cultivate commitment to my community, through volunteer activities and support for the fight for women’s rights. women and the valorisation of youth commitment. My passion for languages and other cultures, which led me to know and speak four (Arabic, English, Spanish and Italian) seemed the key to finding the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others. It is with this spirit that on October 1st 2023 I am preparing to seize a unique opportunity: a university exchange takes me to Pescara, enrolled at the University of Chieti as a student for a month. It’s a great opportunity to gain experience and deepen my knowledge of healthcare systems abroad. But on October 7, just a week after my arrival in Italy, I woke up to the news of a war breaking out in my city. I become a refugee again, but this time in a different country.
Before October 7th, we lived in a beautiful house. My father had worked hard for 30 years to build it. Every brick, every beam, held the weight of her sacrifices and his dreams. It was full of happy memories. But in November 2023, after the war started, my family had to leave our neighborhood, going to live in a tent. They suffered cold and rain, without having access to an adequate bathroom. Trash piled up everywhere because there was no one to collect it. It was a very hard time for us and for many other Palestinian families. Some people died because they didn’t have enough food or clean water. When they returned, in March 2024, we discovered that our house had been destroyed, because it had been transformed into a military point by the Israeli occupation forces. It was heartbreaking. During the war, we not only lost our home. My aunt and her five children were killed by soldiers while trying to escape. They thought they were safe because they had a white flag showing they were civilians, but they were attacked anyway. I also lost five friends from medical school who I knew and lived with for five years. Three of my young cousins under the age of 8 also died when their house was bombed by the IDF. The Israeli forces entered my grandparents’ house, where besides them there was my older aunt with her two daughters and her son. The latter was killed before her eyes. Then they ordered her to leave with her daughters and grandparents if she wanted them to survive. When they started walking, the soldiers threw gas bombs towards them.
This is Gaza, the open-air prison that we love and adore regardless of the circumstances. We have studied and worked hard to grow our small, beautiful city. A city that barely has electricity and suffers very heavy water restrictions due to the illegal occupation that has lasted for more than 75 years and which is expanding, in a carcinogenic way, day by day, while the rest of the world seems to stand by and watch. In Italy I find myself lost in the confusion of another war, the fifth I have experienced in 22 years of life. But this time it’s different. This time I’m not there. I am alone in a country I don’t know, while my entire family, friends and loved ones are in Gaza. Growing up, and surviving four wars, I had become accustomed to the sound of bombing the city. This time though I feel like I can’t bridge the distance between me and my parents. This time a sense of helplessness and desperation comes over me. Because during every war we experienced together, my entire family would gather in one room so that if we died, we would all die together. And none of us would have grieved for the others. This time I’m not in the same room as them or even in the same country as them. I struggle with a sense of guilt that undermines my psychological health.
The days became weeks and the weeks became months. I find myself navigating the uncertainty of being displaced in a foreign country, seeking asylum in a safer place to build my life. Tired and homeless, I clung to the hope of reuniting with my family and rebuilding our shattered lives, dreaming of becoming a doctor. In the meantime, the only way for my family to get out of Gaza is to raise more than 10 thousand dollars per person to pay the Egyptian authorities who control the border between Palestine and Egypt. While, like many other young people, I find myself juggling the impossible difficulties of this situation, I ask the Italian population to share our stories, in the hope that awareness can help build a different future for the people of Gaza.
Today, as I move on this thread that connects Gaza and Italy, I have an unshakable faith in collective solidarity. I carry with me the scars of war and the echoes of resilience that define me. Ahead of me is a road full of uncertainties and at every step I am reminded of the countless lives we have lost, of the dreams broken by the war. But I remain determined. I seek a future that is based on peace and justice, and I want to build it too. I believe that the human spirit can endure and that solidarity transcends geographical boundaries. May my journey from Gaza to Italy not only be a story of survival, but proof of the strength of hope and compassion.
[Yara Khaled Abushab – traduzione di Stefano Baudino]
