Milk for Malak

“My daughter is an angel … She doesn’t know the meaning of childhood, she doesn’t know how to laugh from her heart, she doesn’t know how to play or even feel safe. Born amidst the sound of airplanes, missiles and bullets, she was raised without a mother amid crumbling walls. She is almost one and a half years old, and every day her little lips whisper one word: “Nana”. It means she needs, the comfort and safety of food, it means milk… A simple request, but the meaning is bigger than words.

A childhood stolen, innocence lost. She doesn’t even have a right to the simplest of things. We talk about biscuits as a luxury, but they are not within our grasp. And all you ask for is… nana… milk

Where will things take us now, when our life story is written by war? Can my little girl become a dreamer in the midst of our ruin? How do we satisfy our children’s hunger? Will they grow up carrying in their hearts only stories of death?

War has stolen our lives, laughter and hope. And my daughter, with her little eyes, asks for milk… It’s as if she’s asking for her right in life, her right in the simplicity of what we had to wait for.

Gaza, where is the innocence of our children going? Where do our dreams disappear? I don’t want to believe that this pain has become the only truth we have experienced.”

If you’ve taken the time to read through my entire post, thank you 💚

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