Gaza, November 26, 2009, (Pal Telegraph) - A tent, a container, and a lot of wood suspended in the air by a metal column: who can imagine this as a home? Nobody. And before the Gaza War, neither could Om Ramadan.

When I visited her, she was washing her family's clothes, but she couldn't find a place to dry them, so she hung them over the metal stairs her husband had made, so they could reach their home.

"I was living here with my husband," she said. "It was an eight-storey building. But on the fourth day of the war we lost everything, and more than thirty people become homeless."

"At two a.m., my brother-in-law's phone rang. It was the Israeli army ordering us to depopulate the building in five minutes." The sad woman continues, "it was completely dark, and because of my fear, I forgot where I put my hair cover or my shoes. I woke up my children to run away. All of us were running on the stairs, and the reconnaissance plane launched two rockets towards the building as warning rockets, and after a while, the F16 plane bombed it. I said to myself, we are homeless. We have lost everything. Nobody can help us except Allah. All the time I was thinking of death. Our lives were threatened at any moment."

After four days of bombing, Om Ramadan visited her home. "I was shocked," she says. "It was our reserve, and now we have nothing!"

During her visit, another bomb exploded near the home, in an open area where people were getting water from a well. Her son was walking there when the bomb detonated. He was injured and many others died. She said, "A pregnant woman and her child were killed. My son was in a bad situation. I didn't expect him to recover."

Om Ramadan's son lost his spleen and three of his chest bones, and the Israeli army prevented him from going abroad for treatment. Really, it's too hard for a mother to wait for her son's death, whatever her religion or nationality.

When the war ended , her family rented an apartment, but because her husband was jobless and the rent was so expensive, they decided to return to their home.

"At first we lived in a tent, then my husband mended the room which remained from the first floor, for the two oldest boys. The three little ones slept in the tent," she explained. "He made metal stairs to the second floor, and mended the two rooms which remained, and completed the home with wood sticks and a container to make another room as an alternative for the tent."

When I walked into the wooden home, I felt that it could break at any time. Om Ramadan laughed and said, "I was feeling like you, but I got used to it. We have no choice."

"When it's raining, the water runs out to the home, which is too cold. I feel very sorry when I see my children sleeping in this cold. It's not a respectful life for me or them."

The war didn't only destroy Om Ramadan's home, but also her dream for her oldest son's marriage. She said, "We began to prepare his apartment in the same building before the war, so it would be ready when he finished his university studies. But even this dream is destroyed."

She has lost her home, her happy and comfortable life and her dreams. Who can reimburse her for that!

- Noor El Swirk