Gaza's summer of suffering: Heat, disease, and fear grip a war-torn strip
Translated from Korean, summarized and contextualized by DistantNews.
At a glance
- Gaza faces severe summer heat and disease outbreaks due to destroyed infrastructure and poor sanitation following the ongoing conflict.
- A 15-year-old resident describes the daily struggles of extreme heat, lack of electricity, and the constant fear of rodents in makeshift shelters.
- The article highlights the loss of normalcy and the desperate plea for hope and remembrance from the people of Gaza.
The summer heat in Gaza has become a brutal ordeal, exacerbated by the destruction of essential infrastructure and a severe lack of basic necessities. For 15-year-old Marwa Sawarka, living in a refugee camp, the season brings not just sweltering temperatures but also a profound loss of normalcy.
The war has made it impossible to pick a good season to live in Gaza, but if I had to choose the hardest time, I would say summer.
"The war has made it impossible to pick a good season to live in Gaza, but if I had to choose the hardest time, I would say summer," she writes. Without electricity from Israel, air conditioning and even fans are luxuries of the past. Tents, where most residents now live, become ovens under the midday sun, forcing people outdoors to seek shade. The once-refreshing sea is now a source of potential skin diseases due to sewage contamination, eliminating another summer escape.
Nights offer little respite. Sleep is elusive, broken by the oppressive heat and the unsettling sounds of rodents. "I became afraid that rats would come out at night and attack me or my younger siblings," Marwa shares, describing how basic rest has turned into a time of fear and anxiety. This lack of sleep leads to fatigue and headaches, further compounding the daily suffering.
I became afraid that rats would come out at night and attack me or my younger siblings.
The heat is not the only threat. Marwa recounts her own battle with chickenpox, a painful experience that left her with visible scars on her face. "Every time I look in the mirror, I feel like my appearance has changed and I'm not as pretty as I used to be," she says, the lingering physical marks a constant reminder of her ordeal. The inability to access fresh food due to high costs and the sight of her mother's helplessness in providing for her needs add to the emotional toll.
Every time I look in the mirror, I feel like my appearance has changed and I'm not as pretty as I used to be.
Marwa's message to the world is a plea for remembrance and hope. "Please don't forget us. Talk about us and listen to our voices," she urges. "What we need most today is hope, and to feel that we are not alone in this world."
Please don't forget us. Talk about us and listen to our voices. What we need most today is hope, and to feel that we are not alone in this world.
Originally published by Hankyoreh in Korean. Translated, summarized, and contextualized by our editorial team with added local perspective. Read our editorial standards.