Gaza City, Gaza Strip — School is no longer the place where 11-year-old Karem Samra goes to study and play every day. Instead, it is where he and his family have taken refuge for the past four months, hoping for protection among broken windows and destroyed classrooms.
Every day, Karem waits in line for six hours to get two gallons (7.6 liters) of dirty water for his family. On a good day, a very good day, he can carry water to the school and to his waiting family.
“Sometimes when I go back to the classroom with our water, I fall because they are heavy. I cry because I know there is no one who can help me and that my family will have nothing to drink that day,” she told Al Jazeera, pale dust still caught in her eyebrows.
Waiting for his return are Karem's four sisters and his parents, Suzanne and Ameen Samra.
His father, Ameen, 54, is a fisherman who was once able to support his family. The Israeli blockade has cut off that livelihood.
“I miss my crayons. I miss my friends and my school books,” Karem told Al Jazeera. “I wish our house had not been destroyed. “I wouldn’t have to go through this fight for food and water every day.”
As Karem struggles to support his family, even selling his clothes to buy food and firewood, his parents watch and mourn his lost childhood.
“He studied, played on his iPad and made beautiful drawings,” remembers his mother, Suzanne. “She was gone for hours in her room,” she said, describing how the family waited for her to come out with “a wonderful little painting.”
However, those memories belong to a past life. Now the Samras are among thousands of displaced Palestinians taking shelter at the school toward the eastern edge of Gaza City, where destruction, hunger and disease are rampant.
Karem has had to take on the responsibilities of an adult: standing in line for supplies, fetching water, looking for firewood, and fighting with other children for any remaining aid that arrives in Gaza.
Life at school has been hard for the Samras. Any good memories Karem once had of his old classroom have now been erased by the reality of the present.
“I loved school so much and was very happy back then,” Karem recalls, adding, “After I lost my books, my excellent report cards, and even some of my teachers to the strikes, I don't think it's I might love him again, at least not as much.
“I had dreamed of being a pilot when I was older, but not after seeing all those planes killing us, destroying our house, schools, restaurants and gardens and scaring me at night,” Karem said. “Now I don't know what I want to be, because it doesn't matter anymore. Here all the schools and universities have been destroyed.”
Karem's work, and the toll it takes on his still-developing mind and body, comes at a cost. His parents describe him breaking down crying for no obvious reason. They both talk about how his small body is racked with pain, as the exhaustion of his circumstances takes over.
“I don't think that's what kids are supposed to do,” Ameen said, “they're kids and they should make a living at it.”
“It makes us very sad to see our son go like this and we try hard to convince him to rest and not get overwhelmed with so many things every day,” agreed his mother, Suzanne. “But no matter how tired he is, he insists on continuing to help me, his father and his sisters in the midst of all the difficulties we face,” she added.
Even so, Karem is still 11 years old. He sleeps in his arms, reassured by his promises to buy her the nicest clothes and toys once the worst of the war is over.
The sound of explosions and screams sometimes wakes Karem, dragging him into the world confused and terrified, his mother says. His eyes seem to tremble, the color draining from his face as he accepts the reality of his surroundings.
On those occasions, all his father can do is smile, say something reassuring and ruffle his son's hair, as he contemplates the psychological support Karem and other Gaza children will need once the war ends.
“It feels too much to watch our children go hungry and thirsty and have to endure this miserable existence,” Ameen said, pain coloring her voice.
Suzanne was more thoughtful, saying only that she hoped for a future where Karem and all the children of Gaza remembered these times as if they were a distant dream.
