Tomorrow is Ramadan, but what Ramadan, what joy, what decorations? Gaza is not what you see in pictures of lanterns hanging over the rubble-it is a devastated city, thrown a hundred years back in time, without homes, without electricity, without clean water, without a functioning sewage system, with martyrs still buried beneath the ruins, and schools turned into shelters for those who have lost everything but their patience. Children are no longer children—no education, no play, just small hands forced to labor and faces worn by orphanhood. Ramadan is no longer Ramadan; iftar tables are empty, not just of food, but of the loved ones who are gone, the homes that have been erased, the safety that no longer exists. So tell me, what meaning is left of Ramadan in Gaza?
Ramadan Kareem, world-do you even know what that means anymore?