Journalist Ahmed Alnaouq: ‘It's our duty to make Gaza's stories immortal'
At the time, Alnaouq was living in London, where he works as a journalist and human rights activist. 'It crushed me,' he says of the attack. Unable to return home, he could only watch helplessly from afar and grieve alone. Later, he tells me that it's not anger or hate that consumes him now, but survivor's guilt. 'All the time I think: 'Why? Why am I alive? Why wasn't I killed with my family?''
The only reason he can think of, he says, is so that he could tell their story to the world.
Eight years earlier, Alnaouq had co-founded a platform to help young Palestinians in Gaza write about their lives for an international audience. It began in the aftermath of another airstrike that had claimed the lives of his older brother Ayman and four of his friends during the seven-week Gaza war in the summer of 2014.
'That incident struck me very, very hard,' he tells me quietly from his office in London. 'I sank into a deep depression. I wanted to die. I really, genuinely was waiting for the moment that I die so I can join my brother and just get rid of this life.' Numbly, he watched more deaths being reported in the media – six, eight, 10 more Palestinians killed – with very little sense of the flesh-and-blood people behind the numbers.
Then someone he'd met in Gaza a few years earlier, an American journalist and activist named Pam Bailey, messaged Alnaouq on Facebook asking how he was. 'I told her: 'I'm fine'. She said: 'No, tell me something real. Tell me how you feel after losing your brother.' So I told her the truth. I told her I'm very, very depressed. I'm spending all my time at my brother's grave. When I'm all alone, I burst out crying.'
In an effort to help him work through his depression and grief, Bailey suggested that Alnaouq write a story about his brother in English. 'At first, I said no. My English wasn't very good.' But eventually he agreed. It took them three months – Alnaouq writing drafts, Bailey sending back detailed edits – to get the story into shape. When it was ready, Bailey published it online.
'That changed my life,' says Alnaouq. 'For the first time, I received messages of sympathy and support from people outside Gaza. In my mind, I thought that all westerners don't like the Palestinians. They don't want to read our stories. But that proved me wrong. It boosted my confidence and made me feel I was wrong when I said there is no hope in this life.'
Impressed by the impact of their endeavour, Alnaouq and Bailey had another idea: 'Why don't we replicate this experience for other Palestinians who lost loved ones in Gaza? Why don't we create a platform where young people can tell their stories in English and share them with the world?', says Alnaouq. They called the platform We Are Not Numbers (WANN).
It started in 2015 with 20 budding writers – many of them English literature students such as Alnaouq – aided by volunteer mentors from around the world. They wrote of hardship and loss, of feelings of anger and despair and dread in the face of recurring Israeli attacks. They also wrote about the things they loved about their homeland, despite the blockade on Gaza, the scarcity of jobs, the worsening poverty. 'We encouraged our young writers to write about the beauty of the place,' says Alnaouq. 'About how people in Gaza are friendly and hospitable, about the culture, the mosques, churches and cemeteries – about all aspects of life.' The aim, as well as providing a form of therapy for traumatised young people along with vital connections to the outside world, was to 'break the stereotypes' about Gaza for an international audience accustomed to seeing 'this dusty, horrible place' on the news.
The project took off. 'We were amazed by how talented young writers in Gaza were,' says Alnaouq. 'Every six months, we would recruit another 20 or 30. We would train them to write and help with their English. Over the past 10 years, we've published more than 1,500 stories and poems.' Among their alumni are the award-winning poet Mosab Abu Toha and the Al Jazeera journalist Hind Khoudary.
Now, Alnaouq and Bailey have collected 74 standout pieces from the past decade in a moving book entitled We Are Not Numbers: The Voices of Gaza's Youth (Naomi Klein described it as 'a jailbreak and a miracle'; Riz Ahmed found it 'impossible to put down or forget'). Each chapter covers a year, with big events refracted through highly personal lenses. In 2015, after the devastation of the previous summer's war, one writer, Nada Hammad, observes the 'canvas of grey' across Gaza slowly giving way to 'small splashes of colour' – a wall painted white, graffiti sprouting across temporary housing. 'It was a declaration of survival,' Hammad writes, 'not a struggle to forget.'
Subsequent years bring further violence and disruption, but also efforts to live normally amid the chaos. One writer describes his friend's attempts to pursue his love of astronomy in a land without readily available telescopes. We hear about the byzantine complexity of online shopping amid the blockade and the dismay of a young woman who relocates from Abu Dhabi with her family only to find sand in the shower water and power cuts lasting 18 hours. Her initial dislike of her parents' homeland gradually softens into respect for its people who excel in figuring out 'how to thrive with very little'.
By the time of the Hamas attacks on Israel on 7 October 2023, Alnaouq was living in the UK. He had moved over in 2019 on a prestigious Chevening scholarship to do a journalism master's degree in Leeds. After graduating, he worked at the Palestinian embassy in London. Then he took over from Bailey as WANN's international director, overseeing the daily running of the organisation. (He also hosts a podcast called Palestine Deep Dive and travels widely to give talks.)
On 22 October 2023, came the Israeli bombardment that killed 21 members of his family.
This time, unlike 2014, Alnaouq had a way of communicating his loss with a global audience. 'When this bombing happened, I went to social media immediately and started voicing about what happened to my family and I received a lot of media attention.' The response spurred him on to expand WANN's reach beyond the internet. 'We thought: 'Now is our chance. Not only will we have our stories online but we will put them in a book, so that more people will understand what's happening.'' Four contributors, including Alnaouq's brother Mahmoud, have been killed in Gaza since October 2023. 'It's our duty that we make their stories immortal, on paper.'
The war hasn't stopped young people in Gaza from writing about their experiences; if anything, it's intensified their need to communicate. 'Now we publish maybe three times more stories than before,' says Alnaouq. 'Most of our writers lost their homes. They lost their laptops. They don't have electricity or internet connection. But they write their stories on their phones, wait a few days for internet connection and then submit them to us. Every month we publish 35 to 40 stories.'
'We're chronicling history in Gaza, not by facts and statistics and news stories, but by the lived experiences of the people. It's not a political project: it's a human project.'
We Are Not Numbers: The Voices of Gaza's Youth by Ahmed Alnaouq and Pam Bailey is published by Hutchinson Heinemann (£14.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mirror
12 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
Lavender will flourish every summer if one pruning rule is always followed
Lavender is a popular herb grown for its fragrant flowers and aromatic foliage, but to ensure you get a good display of flowers year on year you need to follow one simple pruning rule. When it comes to gardening, you don't need to know everything about the plants you're growing, but it helps to understand the watering and pruning requirements of things like lavender. This beautifully coloured perennial shrub can flourish magnificently in the right conditions, and should return year after year with abundant flowers. But much of this depends on pruning, for which gardening experts suggest following a straightforward rule. A gardening expert at Monrovia Nurseries recommended shaping English lavender and hybrid varieties into a "tidy, rounded mound of foliage" that appears attractive year-round, including winter and summer. To secure a bushier display of flowers, the 8-8-8 rule is essential, according to gardening enthusiasts, reports the Express. Several members of the 'Gardening Hints and Tips UK' Facebook Group suggested the pruning tip when one member asked how to tackle a "huge lavender plant" in her garden. Green-fingered gardeners chimed in with the same advice: "Eight inches on the eighth day of the eighth month." The 8-8-8 rule for lavender is a pruning technique that refers to pruning English lavender plants back to about eight inches (20cm) on the eighth day of the month (August). One gardening group member noted that doing so is said to "maintain a compact, bushy shape and encourage healthy new growth for the following year." However, the rule doesn't explain exactly how to prune lavender plants correctly. Fortunately, it's easy to grasp. Generally speaking, hardy lavenders should ideally be pruned post-flowering in late August or September. This is when the plant has typically stopped producing flowers. Pruning lavender is important as it helps maintaining its health, shape and encourage abundant flowering. If left unpruned, the purple plant can become woody and produce fewer flowers. The horticultural gurus at Thompson Morgan suggest trimming eight inches from the top of the plant, but always making sure to cut just above a cluster of new shoots. They warned, "Go any lower and the lavender will die." Frost-resistant lavenders have a prolonged blooming period, so prune them once the initial flowering has subsided, using the same techniques as for hardy lavender. Subsequently, simply deadhead regularly and tidy up at the end of the season if needed. Refrain from pruning later than mid-September. Pruning after this point can be potentially harmful, as it could lead to the lavender's new growth being damaged by winter frost. It can even cause dieback, which is when a plant begins to die from the tip of its leaves or roots backwards.
Daily Mirror
16 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
Professional gardener names 'toxic' tree he'd never plant outside his home again
While trees can make a fantastic addition to any home, a gardening expert has cautioned over planting these popular specimens as they can cause major issues in your garden One of the best ways to add elegance and charm to your garden is by planting trees – however a gardening expert has revealed five trees that are best avoided. Trees are a fantastic addition to any outdoor space. Not only do they add height and dynamism to your garden's topography, they are also excellent oxygen-producers, freshening your air and absorbing carbon dioxide. Plus, they make a welcome home for all kinds of critters, like birds, squirrels and pine martins. However, it's important to be careful about which kinds of trees you plant. Some varieties have aggressive root systems which can damage your home and other infrastructure. For this reason, horticultural therapist Edward Bowring, writing for Home and Gardens, has warned against planting these five trees, which can cause problems in your garden. READ MORE: Households warned over common garden decoration that could land you in trouble Black walnut Also native to North America, the black walnut tree can grow to an impressive 100 feet and produces black walnuts which can be harvested in late September and October. Unfortunately, there are some downsides to growing this regal tree. Edward says that the tree must be regularly pruned in order to keep it productive and maintain its shape. It also bleeds sap when cut. Plus, he adds that the tree produces a chemical called juglone, which is toxic to many plants. It is found in the tree's foliage, fruits and roots and can hinder the growth of other plants. Staghorn sumac Native to North America, this small tree is prized for its rusty autumnal colours. It also makes a great habitat for birds and different kinds of pollinators, which further boost your garden. However, Edward cautions that this tree 'has a suckering habit', which means that it produces offshoots from its main trunk that can become quite dense. He also warns that if left unmanaged, its fast growth can outcompete other plants in your garden. Cherry laurel With its dark green leaves and thick fast-growing foliage, cherry laurels are popular choices for creating screens in gardens. They also produce charming white flowers in the spring. But according to Edward, this is 'a hedge to avoid', in part due to its potential to cast shade over and displace other plants. Equally, it is also toxic to pets and humans. Weeping willow This gorgeous tree has distinctive hanging branches and offers ample shade, particularly in the height of summer, and is great at tolerating waterlogged soil. Unfortunately, it may be best avoided in the garden. Edward warns 'to avoid planting [it] close to a house' due to its fast-growing and moisture-seeking root system, which can damage underground pipes. English oak Known to grow up to 130 feet tall, the English oak is truly a majestic specimen that makes an impressive addition to a garden. But Edward says that you need to set aside time to clear away the acorns, leaves and branches that fall from it. He also cautions that it features an extensive root system which has 'the potential to damage sidewalks, driveways and even foundations', which makes it a risky choice to plant near your home.
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
Is it, like, OK to say ‘like' now?
If you're a millennial or millennial-adjacent, you probably grew up being chastised for using the word 'like' inappropriately. You're probably familiar with the sins: the first is employing it as a filler word, to give you time to think: 'I was, like, trying to speak in a socially acceptable way.' The second is using it to mean 'said', as in: 'My English teacher was like, 'Don't talk like that.'' And the third is using it to denote approximation: 'People who police the word are all, like, a million years old.' Yet, we all made it to adulthood despite the verbal carnage; many of us even have jobs that require communication. Now that millennials are, like, becoming the establishment, will the stigma against the word disappear? Megan C Reynolds, a millennial and author of Like: A History of the World's Most Hated (And Misunderstood) Word, says part of what older generations rejected about 'like' – as with so much language – was its relative newness during our childhoods, which 'probably made them feel old'. The controversial use of the word came to prominence in the 1980s and 1990s, though it has been evolving since the year 1200, according to the linguist Alexandra D'Arcy. Today it is a firm part of the English lexicon, stretching from its inescapability on Love Island, to its role as the title of an Ice Spice EP (Like..?), to its regular employment by NPR's 'erudite, measured' interviewer Terry Gross, who has been praised for using 'like' as 'stepping stones within sentences, on which she presses her weight, pivots, and tucks into her point'. Reynolds argues that, as millennials begin to dominate the workforce, 'the usage of 'like' will soon be the status quo.' Language evolves, generally for the better, she writes. Contrary to what our grade school teachers might have suggested, there are no real linguistic laws. The only language police are self-appointed. Still, using the word carries some embarrassment. As Reynolds and others point out, much of the vitriol directed at 'like' is tied to its association with young women, beginning with the 1980s stereotype of the valley girl – a teen in the Los Angeles suburbs who, God forbid, enjoyed shopping. It's true, researchers have found, that young women in particular play a leading role in shaping our language. But at the same time, as Reynolds writes: 'The policing of the way women speak – which, in turn, makes women feel as if they need to police themselves, often subconsciously – is a sport that will never get old.' That internalization, along with the history of finger-wagging, can make things difficult. 'I have a friend who works for the FBI – she works with a lot of men – and has said that her father used to tell her to not say 'like' a lot, and it's been sort of drilled in her head,' Reynolds says. It all leaves the word in a sort of purgatory – no longer condemned outright yet not fully embraced. That makes this an opportune moment for Reynolds's book, which, despite the 'history' in its title, might better be described as a series of meditations on the word. Reynolds reflects, of course, on Love Island and Terry Gross, as well as influencer culture, films ranging from My Fair Lady to Clueless (a movie exposing the misguidedness of the valley girl stereotype), and the different ways we use language, from texting with friends to emailing across the office (where we shift into what she calls 'corporate drag', with all its reaching out, circling back and touching base). But what's most memorable about the book is Reynolds's celebration of the word's unique ability to grease the wheels of communication. 'Like', she argues, actually improves our ability to relate our experiences. For one thing, it allows us to combine words and feelings in a story. As D'Arcy tells Reynolds in the book: 'The simple story that has been told about 'like' is that it came in and replaced 'say'.' In fact, things are more complex: with 'like', 'people started quoting way more than speech. And, in particular, they started quoting those internal states' – what they felt rather than what they actually said. So you might tell a friend: 'My boss was like, 'What the hell is wrong with you?'' when in fact the boss's language was far more polite. But this more colorful version perhaps relates both the boss's tone and how it made you feel, with the word 'like' signaling to the listener that they shouldn't take us literally. As Reynolds writes: 'The way we tell stories now is fundamentally different because we make space for feeling as well as facts.' Meanwhile, when we discuss thorny topics, the word offers a chance to pause, and perhaps pivot or soften our language. 'Not every situation requires a hammer,' Reynolds writes. ''Like' smooths the edges from strong, sharp, uncomfortable emotions, lowering the intensity until it feels more manageable.' Or, as she puts it in conversation: 'It is just really hard to say complicated emotional things directly.' The word 'gives you a minute to get your shit together mentally and also lets the other person know that you are getting your shit together'. Most of all, Reynolds doesn't want people to beat themselves up. 'I would argue that saying 'like' a lot is not the thing you should be upset at yourself for,' she says. 'So if I could disabuse anyone of that notion, then my job is done.' In any case, there's plenty of new gen Z slang to be frightened by instead.
