I am Sara Ahmed Qeshta, a Palestinian from Gaza, and a survivor of a genocidal war that lasted more than two years. One war has ended, but many other wars have begun – wars of hunger, displacement, fear, and survival. Now, I will briefly tell my story and the suffering of a life in which we lost everything, even ourselves.

When the war began, I had just finished my first year at the Faculty of Education, Department of English Language Teaching Methods. It was not the path I had dreamed of. I graduated from high school with a 93.7% average in the science stream, but this major was my father’s wish. Still, after one year at university, I moved past the adjustment phase, accepted my field of study, and worked hard to become one of the top students. Life was finally beginning to feel stable until October 7, 2023.

After that day, everything stopped. I did not study for an entire year. I was forcibly displaced from my city, leaving behind my home, my room, my books, and my dreams. I found myself living in a tent, a life that felt unreal and unbearable. In June 2024, I returned to university online, but studying in Gaza is nothing like studying anywhere else in the world.

Education in Gaza has never been easy, but it is a form of resistance. For us, learning is not just a right; it is an act of survival and hope. I studied during long power outages, using the dim light of a small lamp. Internet access was unreliable, and sometimes I walked long distances from western Khan Younis to the seashore just to find a signal strong enough to attend my classes. Even when I was physically present, my mind was not free. We studied while under siege and famine, constantly wondering what we would eat tomorrow or whether flour would run out. Fear, hunger, and exhaustion became part of our daily routine, yet we kept learning because education was the only future we could still hold on to.

Despite everything I have endured, I did not collapse. My strength came from many sources. My family was my first shelter when everything around us was falling apart, their presence reminded me that I was not alone. My mother’s patience, my siblings’ courage, and our shared struggle gave me the strength to continue even when fear and hunger tried to defeat us.

Another powerful source of my resilience was education. Studying became more than a duty; it became a form of resistance. Every lecture I attended, every assignment I submitted under the sound of bombs, was a declaration that the war would not steal my future. Learning gave me purpose when life felt meaningless and gave me something to hold onto when everything else was taken away.

Faith and hope also carried me through the darkest moments. When there was no electricity, no food, and no safety, I still believed that there was a reason for my survival. I refused to see myself only as a victim. I chose to see myself as a survivor with a mission to learn, to grow, and to tell my story to the world. These sources of resilience turned my pain into strength and my suffering into determination.

There was no safety anywhere. Walking in the street, you never knew if you would be the next martyr. Even inside your home, death could reach you at any moment. Since the beginning of the war, I have been injured in my leg and left with wounds on my face. A nearby area in Rafah was bombed, and I almost lost my mother, my two brothers, and my sister. My room was severely damaged, and my first-year university textbooks, books that held my dreams, memories, and hard work were destroyed. My university building in Gaza still lives in my heart. I long for those few moments of normal life I once had before the war stole my university years from me.

Yet, everything ending was not a reason to stop. It was a reason to continue.

Today, I am in my final semester at university. I am still standing, still learning, and still dreaming. I want to continue my education, to become a strong, educated Palestinian woman who can give back to her community and help rebuild what was destroyed. My dream is not only to earn a degree, but to use knowledge as a tool for healing, empowerment, and change. I carry the pain of war within me, but I also carry hope. I am Sara, a survivor of war, siege, and hunger, but also a believer in the power of education to create a future beyond destruction.

Note: This project is supported by the British Council as part of the SARD programme, which focuses on the role of English and other languages in building resilience. SARD – Stories of Adversity, Resilience and Determination – encourages Palestinians, particularly young people, to share their stories and lived experiences through creative and educational media. The content of this production is solely the responsibility of Resilient Voices and does not necessarily reflect the views of the supporting or partnering institutions.