It is time for Mahmoud Seydam’s online lecture on museum architecture. He squats in front of the step he calls a table and opens his laptop.
“Is Mohammed the only one here?” He pulls out his phone and types into the students’ chat group that the lecture is about to start. There are two students now. Mahmoud decides to wait a little for the others to join.
“Today, we have a simple presentation: an overview of museum design.” He asks his students to imagine the museum as honey in a glass. “The museum is a beautiful interior space. It becomes an element that attracts people.”
The internet connection drops out and halts the lecture.
Mahmoud, head of engineering sciences and applied arts at the University College of Science and Technology in Khan Younis and a lecturer at al-Aqsa University, does not seem frustrated. He is used to this.
In his usual calm and professional tone, he records a voice message to his students: “Hello everyone … There seems to be an internet problem, so I will record the lecture, upload it to YouTube and send you the link.”
This is what a day in the life of a university lecturer in Gaza looks like.
***
Daybreak
Sleep itself is a struggle. Sleeping isn’t easy while living in tents. Anxiety dominates everything … because there’s no sense of stability.
You compare how your life was before the war to your current life and, psychologically, you’re unable to accept this reality. You’re living in a tent, which doesn’t protect you from anything and doesn’t provide any privacy. You can’t even do your work peacefully because of the noise.
Not to mention the anxiety about an emergency occurring. There was a strike on the tents around us before. There’s fear for the children, of harm to any member of the family. There’s anxiety about being displaced again. We were displaced more than 15 times, including from a place that was uncomfortable, unstable and didn’t support human life, to one that was even worse, sometimes abandoning all our belongings just to save our lives. We slept for three or four nights on the street, on the pavement.
You feel anxious at night. I wake up around dawn, pray and open my mobile phone. I make a cup of coffee and sit outside the tent to respond to messages from students and colleagues that came overnight. I preserve some of my phone’s battery specifically for this task. It’s easier for me to send them voice notes than to type. This is how I start my day.
***
Morning
The morning tasks begin with fetching water. Mahmoud grabs a plastic container and walks to where the water truck stops. His children – three sons and a daughter, studying engineering, nursing and computer science – often help out. He brings the water back to the tent and pours it into their tank, then into buckets of different sizes and colours in front of their tent.
We use these buckets to store some of the water for daily use to make it last as long as possible, because the tank only holds 200 litres.
We don’t have any other tanks. They were all destroyed when our house was bombed. And the water doesn’t reach us every day.
In displacement, we face things we didn’t expect in life. The tent constantly needs repairs. Plus, there is the gruelling task of trying to charge my mobile phone and laptop to start my day and do my work.
Sometimes we have breakfast; sometimes we don’t. Currently, there is flour and we knead and bake in the tent, but the bread spoils from the heat and then there is no breakfast. Meals are not regular, but if I get absorbed in work, I forget about food.
***
Afternoon
Mahmoud starts to set up for the day’s lecture. As soon as he plugs his laptop into the power strip, the system shuts down. He has learned basic solar energy technology to manage these recurring breakdowns. He grabs the broom, steps on to a plastic chair and cleans the dust off the solar panels on top of the tent. He records the museum design lecture and then it is time to set off for the Scholars Without Borders offices, the college’s temporary headquarters.
Not everything is online; there are meetings and student issues for which you need to be present. The distance to Scholars Without Borders is about 6km.
I usually go on foot because of how difficult transportation is: the roads are rough and everything is packed with tents and carts. Today, I used a cart pulled by an old car – it’s the kind that is usually pulled by a horse or a donkey – and then a rundown tuk-tuk. It takes me an hour to get there.
Being in these circumstances and still being able to carry on, to give my all – frankly, I find it incredibly difficult. The basic necessities of life must be in place for a person to be able to excel in their work. People don’t even have the bare minimum for life right now.
The application and practical side of learning has become extremely difficult. Most sessions are online. Most of the basic tools and materials needed for the learning process have become difficult to access or simply unavailable.
From the early stages of the war, we noticed that the universities were deliberately targeted. The university has a certain symbolic significance. It brings together all the future talent and potential, whether among students or the teaching staff.
At one point, we were displaced in an area between Rafah and Khan Younis, where my university was visible from a distance. I saw with my own eyes the military strikes against the university buildings and facilities. When the ceasefire was broken, a video emerged showing the demolition of all of the university buildings, a complete levelling of the site.
We continue with a certain degree of patience and perseverance.
***
Evening
Before the war you could take your family out to eat in a restaurant.
As an architect, I was also quite interested in archaeological and heritage sites, and I’d pop into some of the shops selling antiques to have a look around.
All of this is lost now. There is no time for leisure; we can barely secure the bare necessities. Our life runs like a machine. Every day is just like the next.
My parents and two siblings live in tents nearby, a 10-minute walk. My parents – because of the war, illnesses and old age – have been really affected. It’s a responsibility, so almost every day I visit them to see if they need anything.
I sometimes sit outside my tent and talk with others to unwind after the long day. Then I resume my communications with students. This doesn’t stop until I sleep.
From the moment you wake up until you go to sleep, you’re barely able to keep up with anything other than the tasks you have to do.
***
Credits
Video: Tantesh Media Services
Art direction: Harry Fischer, Anaïs Mims, Barry Ainslie and Alessia Amitriano
Video editor/producer: Joshua Jacob
Video executive producers: Temujin Doran and Augusta Anthony
Additional reporting and research: Aseel Mousa and Harriet Barber
