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For those who have not lived through war, there is no personal memory to share, but much can be learned by listening to those who have. Our first encounters with war often come through history books or formal education, while the media and journalistic reports provide glimpses into ongoing conflicts. In this context, the firsthand experience of war is rarely something we can or want to share. Yet, journals and diaries, both from the past and present, are windows into the lives of those who struggle in everyday conflict, capturing the voices and emotions that history alone cannot convey.
Diaries, often personal and introspective, are typically written for the author’s own reflection, wellbeing, emotional status but their purpose can vary, sometimes serving as a therapeutic tool, sometime as a testimony for future generations.
This is the case with the blog “It's Ruba from Gaza,” written after October 7th, documenting the life of Ruba Akkila and her family. Ruba’s reasons for writing are twofold: to keep memory alive so that the horrors of war may never be repeated, and to humanize and give voice to the countless Palestinians whose lives, dignity, and culture are at stake. She seeks to go beyond the numbers that numb us, awakening our empathy, consciousness and reminding us that civilians are not mere statistics.
In a conflict where media access is restricted and the burden of truth falls on Palestinian journalists risking their lives, such writings are invaluable. Whether Ruba’s blog and others like it will contribute to a future collective memory, free from the constructs of power, oppression, and political discourse, remains uncertain. But what we do know is that the process of recording individual and collective memory has begun, capturing the experiences, images, and memories of what can only be described as a genocide.
Ruba’s blog was adapted into a monologue, performed in an Italian theatre near Rome and at a university campus in Pisa, supported by artists and students engaged in the pro-Palestine movement. Ruba was born and raised in Gaza City, where she has lived most of her life. She has more than 20 years of experience with international humanitarian organisations focusing on child rights and gender issues in Gaza and the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region.
I would like to leave you with the preface I dedicated to her:
Ruba is about my age, but she doesn’t live my life. Ruba has never bowed down; she has always sought freedom. Freedom like the sea she watched from her window, high up in a building in Gaza—a sea that spoke to her of boundless horizons, much like her love for cats, those free-spirited creatures.
On October 7th, her life changed again, but this time, the unimaginable happened. Ruba lives, she survives, without knowing if she’ll see the next day. Amidst the chaos, fear, pain, and the rubble of a fading humanity, Ruba never stops telling the truth, denouncing injustice, fighting with words and small gestures.
She wrote a blog that was censored, but thanks to the help of women and colleagues across borders, it was translated, read, and shared. I am one of those women who, in addition to loving a land called Palestine, am proud to know its people, especially Ruba. I support her cause and feel like her ‘sister’ in the unwavering belief in freedom, dignity, and the rights of all.
Z.L.
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