It’s almost Christmas, and I always like to be the first one to wish my best friend, Yara, a merry Christmas as she’s always the first one to wish me a happy Eid on Eid al-Adha and Eid al-Fitr. But is it appropriate to do that when there is still a genocide in Gaza and her cousins and friends are trapped in a church there?
Since we were in grade 4, I used to go over to Yara’s house in Gaza City, order food –probably from Al-Taboon Restaurant – decorate the tree, dance to YMCA songs, and then drink hot chocolate while watching a movie. We had this ritual going on for almost a decade.
Growing up, one of Yara’s favourite traditions was attending the Christmas Eve service at Saint Porphyrius church with her family. It was more than just a place of worship; it is one of the oldest churches in the world and a cornerstone of her community, where generations gathered to celebrate faith and fellowship. The atmosphere would be electric with anticipation as families dressed in their finest clothes, exchanging warm greetings and heartfelt wishes.
That was until 19 October 2023 when an Israeli airstrike damaged its sacred walls and claimed the lives of at least 18 Palestinian civilians. “Israel not only kills our people but makes us live in constant fear of who’s next, leaving us with no time to even mourn,” Yara told me, her voice trembling with emotion.
The church that once echoed with joyous hymns and laughter had become a haunting reminder of loss and despair. For Yara, every corner of that church now held painful memories – of prayers interrupted by sirens, of celebrations turned to mourning.
Suddenly, Yara’s Christmas changed from a cozy, warm home to being displaced in a cold church. From hot, heartwarming drinks to wishing that the drinking water is less polluted today; from a big family dinner table made with love to an expired canned food that you’re lucky to have. “A place that was once full of joy became a place full of fear. The church where I prayed became a place where I’m displaced.”
Now in Australia, Yara says she’s “grateful that I’m safe in Australia and wandering the streets of Melbourne makes my inner child happy, but the happiness is incomplete while my people back home are still in danger.” Also, “Watching people standing in lines to buy gifts just reminds me of standing in lines the same time last year to buy bread.” What makes the transition easier for her is the welcoming environment she found in Australia.
What gives Yara hope despite living in an unfair world is remembering the priest’s words from last year. While trapped in a church with a sky full of bombs, the priest reminded them that Jesus is all about spreading love and hope. He emphasised that as a Christian community, they are not supposed to lose sight of that message, even in the darkest times.
This year, however, there is no Christmas celebration in Palestine. The usual festivities have been replaced with silence and sorrow as families mourn the loss of loved ones and the destruction of their homes. Yara clings to the belief that the spirit of Christmas can still shine through the darkness, reminding her community that love and hope can endure even when everything else seems lost.
For Yara, all she’s asking Santa for this year is a world where we can all live in peace.
Plestia Alaqad is a Palestinian journalist and poet
