The rising death count in Gaza has “been really devastating” to watch from afar as the conflict in the Middle East continues to escalate, they say.
Ayman Oweida still remembers the prolonged state of shock he felt when Israel’s military response to the attack on Oct. 7 by Hamas began to stretch on last year.
But as time went on, he instead watched in despair as the bombing he first thought could last a few weeks continued for months and, now, an entire year as Israel retaliated for the estimated 1,200 killed and 250 hostages taken in that initial attack.
Israel’s military response has since killed more than 41,000 people, according to the Gaza Health Ministry.
“It’s been really devastating,” said Oweida, 41. “I think mentally, psychologically and emotionally, we were not prepared to cope with trauma like this.”
The Gazette reached out to members of the Palestinian community living in Quebec to get their perspective on the last year.
Many expressed a reluctance to discuss the conflict with the media, citing a deep distrust of how they are portrayed, and almost all decried how pro-Palestinian efforts in the last year, including peaceful protests or calls for a ceasefire, have been mischaracterized as hateful or antisemitic.
Those who did respond spoke of the emotional toll of the last year, from losing loved ones to witnessing the relentless military strikes that have been destroying their homeland. Above all, they spoke of the war casting a shadow over everyday life and the impossibility of turning their attention away from it — despite the feeling many in society would like to.
“You know how there are some major milestones in life where there’s a before and an after?” said Zahia El-Masri, a Palestinian born in Lebanon who lives in Montreal. “You see life in a whole new way. Everything changes. You kind of almost lose a certain joy in life.”
In the early months of the war, Oweida could barely concentrate during the day or sleep at night.
Each message from family members in Gaza was marked with the same uncertainty: Would this be the last time they would communicate?
In mid-October, several members of his wife’s extended family were killed when their home was bombed in south Gaza. In March, one of his cousins he kept close contact with — “You try to uplift them, listen to their concerns,” he said — died while retrieving flour from aid trucks.
“The unpredictability of the situation makes you unable to control your day,” said Oweida, an assistant professor of medicine. “You’re always concerned, your productivity is down. It’s a roller-coaster of emotions.”
El-Masri, 51, also spoke of taking countless sick days in the last year, too distracted by the war to “put a professional mask on” and head to work each day.
But besides the pain and sorrow, there’s also mounting frustration — a sense among local Palestinians that people are turning a blind eye to what’s happening, and that the Canadian government is not taking a strong enough stance against Israel.
As the war has continued, the humanitarian crisis in Gaza has only worsened. Blockades have prevented the entry of medical supplies and food. According to the United Nations, 1.9 million people have been displaced and, among the dead, most have been women and children.
Almost everyone who spoke to The Gazette for this article called Israel’s military offensive an ongoing genocide, and stressed that describing it as anything less only downplays the gravity of the situation.
Similar protests have taken place in other cities across the province, including in Sherbrooke, where Oweida lives.
For many, the demonstrations were simply a way to break the isolation they felt — there are only a handful of Palestinian families in his city, Oweida noted — and a place to voice what they believe the Canadian government should be doing.
“The fact we’re in the streets calling for these things should not be misinterpreted, even if certain individuals behave wrongly,” Oweida said, noting how difficult it has been to be vilified for expressing concerns.
“It’s heartbreaking because we get labelled,” he added. “And it seems easy, especially when people in positions of power label a group of people, promoting an idea that doesn’t exist and attacking people that are hurting.”
Samar Alkhdour, a Palestinian mother and activist, has been one of the most vocal of those protesters. She has been holding regular sit-ins and protests in Montreal since March.
She still wakes every morning hoping maybe something will have changed and the bombing in Gaza will have stopped, she said this week. But the more time goes on, the harder it is to think that day will come.
“I never imagined this would last for a year,” said Alkhdour, 39. “It’s infuriating to be witnessing what’s happening to my people and family and to feel helpless.”
After five years of fighting to bring her to Canada, Alkhdour’s 13-year-old daughter, Jana, died in Gaza in January while taking refuge in a church. She suffered from cerebral palsy, Alkhdour says, and required specific care and food that became impossible to obtain once Israel’s offensive intensified.
Alkhdour’s protests started as a way to denounce the immigration system that made it so difficult to reunite her family. They have now evolved into a condemnation of Israel’s military response and what she says is Canada’s complicity in the war.
Her protests have continued since. In a way, she explained, they help her combat the profound helplessness she’s felt all year, even if just by raising awareness and reminding passersby that the dead are not only statistics.
“I lost my daughter,” Alkhdour said, firmly. “I’m trying really hard for other Palestinian parents to not lose their children.”
People waved Palestinian and Lebanese flags and held signs denouncing the war. Some carried images of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, who was killed in a recent Israeli airstrike. Others wore shirts commemorating dead relatives. They wiped away tears and shared hugs before marching.
Weekend shoppers, meanwhile, walked by sharing little more than curious looks. A few briefly clapped along with the chants. Most looked the other way as they passed.
For El-Masri, the disconnect encapsulates much of the frustration she’s been feeling as of late.
It’s a thought others who spoke with The Gazette also shared: As if, somehow, the loss of Palestinian lives has become acceptable or even expected, allowed now to continue for a year on end.
“The only word I can use to describe it is complete madness,” El-Masri said of the rising death toll not being met with the outrage she feels it deserves.
“Nothing makes sense anymore. We see children getting massacred. Women and men. On and on … bombing of all sorts,” she added. “How are we letting this happen?”
