MOHAMMED OMER
The fearless and articulate Hajjah Aminah accepts aging with joy, ever ready to share her wisdom with her Gaza community. (PHOTO BY WRMEA).
Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, November/December 2022, p. 10-11
Gaza on the Ground
By Mohammed Omer
HAJJAH AMINAH SMILES widely with a joy that celebrates her 80-odd years. Her demeanor radiates playful sarcasm, inspiring laughter all around her—even in the odd reality that is modern-day Gaza. Kudos to her for her resilience; with an endlessly forward-looking attitude, she believes that every tomorrow will be brighter and each day can bring joy and new opportunities.
A father, nearly in his 40s, knits his brow, almost toppled by two toddlers—fighting, as children do, over their turn to play. Hajjah Aminah’s younger sister, Inshirah, pauses for a moment. “Ha, knock it off. Kids are kids, they are supposed to play and enjoy life!” Inshirah tells him. The father concedes. “They are better off without you telling them off,” Hajjah tells him. The sisters finish each other’s sentences.
It is rare to find women of Hajjah Aminah’s age, especially considering the stress she has experienced. However, she counsels poetically, “Stones come and go, just like seashores. Ultimately, all depends on you and how you choose to maintain yourself.” She has been a soothing influence on Inshirah, who lost her home in 2003 to an Israeli bulldozer whose driver decided the narrow alley in the crowded neighborhood did not allow his bulldozer to maneuver comfortably; the house was sacrificed for that purpose.
People come and go; we grieve death, agony and homelessness. However, in balance, we celebrate new birth and beginnings too. I have met Hajjah Aminah on multiple occasions, in times of grief and joy. She is at the forefront, but she rarely lets me take her photo. She is always insightful and has something wise to say whether the situation is joyless or joyful. From her effortlessly commanding bearing to her deeply human advice, she carries herself with a gravitas exceeding that of presidents preparing to address their nation.
Hajjah Aminah never attended school. “Life too is a school,” she says.
She recalls the days before the current intifada, when Gaza was less impoverished and overcrowded. It was odd for a Palestinian woman laborer in the late 1990s to seek a work permit inside Israel. This was the province of men, thousands of whom used to cross daily and work in fields from agriculture, reconstruction, restaurants and manufacturing. She loved her farming work. “It brings a special connection with the land,” she explains. “You can have a meaningful connection with the earth, embracing the food we consume.”
A World Bank overview of conditions in Gaza, updated in May 2022, noted that while the near-term economic outlook showed some signs of recovery, sustainable sources of growth remain limited. Should this persist, Palestinian economic growth would remain at around three percent during 2023/2024. The war in Ukraine may increase inflation in Gaza. The pandemic may also exacerbate this, especially if no additional vaccines are secured beyond mid-2022.
Hajjah Aminah has not been vaccinated. She accepts COVID-19 as a real global threat but believes, as do most Gazans, that expired vaccines might have been sent to them.
I asked her: if you had ten seconds to offer advice to someone on the other side of the world, what would that be? She paused. “Acceptance. However old you are, you are aging; you must embrace change with joy. Whether you greet change with a smile or a scowl, that will define your experience.”
Hajjah Aminah has never experienced social isolation, except during COVID-19 lockdowns and the first intifada curfews. Every day she wakes at 5 am, making bread that she eats dipped in olive oil and thyme, with mint tea under the roofless living room. “I can still walk, talk, laugh and enjoy the presence of everything around me,” she says. “Nothing happens without a reason; you have to accept it.” The reality is that she is blessed with a Gaza community that continues to embrace its elders as, together, they help each other endure a senseless 15-year blockade.
She always knows which young woman in the neighborhood is a victim of sexism or domestic violence and is unafraid to intervene. “No violent man can stand in her way,” her sister says. “Her tongue is sharper than a knife.” She recalls one time a relative beat his employer’s wife over an unpaid salary. “She taught him such lessons about life and masculinity that he never dared to harm any wife again.”
This is a woman who lives life with neither ageism nor harassment levelled against her; her fearless and articulate nature leaves everyone speechless. “Apart from the buzzing drones overhead, day and night, life is good. You just have to embrace it and live it,” she says.
Her beautiful, sun-darkened skin is testament to another type of resilience. Hajjah Aminah almost never uses public transport; she can’t afford a kilogram of chicken. However, she assures me, UNRWA lentils are nurturing enough.
In the early mornings, she visits other elders and vulnerable people in hospital. She attends both weddings and funerals and is there with a hand to hold when a neighbor is in labor. Although she never had children of her own, everyone in pain is a child of hers. This remarkable woman has a lesson to impart. “We need to take down the walls that divide us, let go of our fears and allow ourselves to enter a state of acceptance. One day soon, I hope, Israelis will put down their weapons and accept their neighbors as fellow human beings deserving freedom and human rights.”
Award-winning journalist Mohammed Omer reports regularly on the Gaza Strip.
