Street by Street, House by House

This is a LinkedIn post by Samer Abuzerr.

When I carried what was left of my belongings — or rather, just pieces of wood — out of my home before the tanks reached our street, I closed the door and took the last bundle. Walking down the stairs with heavy steps, I felt as if I were carrying a mountain on my back.

At the final step before the building’s exit, the workers had already gone ahead to the truck. They were calling me, asking why I was late, while I stood there, unable to lift the weight of my own collapse.

I waited a minute, two minutes, ten… until I sat down on that last step, breaking inside, knowing the tanks were only meters away and would soon destroy not just my apartment but the whole building — our memories, our neighborhood.

I whispered to myself: “Samer, what is with Allah is better and everlasting.” I tried to steady myself, to be the mountain I have always been. No one must see me like this. I am the one who holds others up. There is no room for breaking down.

I climbed onto the truck. The workers glanced at my face and went silent. All I could think about was the shame of someone noticing my collapse.

As the truck moved, I looked at the streets of neighbourhood, holding them in my heart. This is my neighborhood overlooking the sea. This is my life, my memories.

Leaving it felt harder than losing my soul. But I have children and elderly to protect. I cannot leave them to die or be brutalized by the vilest of men. I left, but my soul stayed behind, complaining to Allah about the betrayal of this world.