Editor’s note: As this piece was being written, reports emerged that the Jabaliya refugee camp was enduring Israeli airstrikes, marking the tenth displacement for residents since the onset of this conflict.

Each morning and late afternoon, my four children and I ascend to the rooftop of our rundown home in northern Gaza to tend to our modest urban garden. I encourage them to feel the soil as they plant the precious seeds I’ve gathered, to nurture the growing vegetables with care, and to find joy and pride in harvesting our purslane, squash, and arugula.

A few months prior, the thought of cultivating my own crops appeared impossible. In fact, it’s a miracle we’ve survived and our house remains intact. Situated just west of the Jabaliya refugee camp, it sustained significant damage from an Israeli airstrike that hit a neighboring building. Nonetheless, I refused to abandon it. Instead, I dedicated six weeks to removing debris, boarding up windows and doors, and patching the large holes left by artillery strikes with nylon tarps. After enduring nine displacements (barely avoiding death), my family and I came back home in June.

The rooftop garden emerged from necessity and an instinct to address challenges. Back in February, my youngest daughter, Lilia, aged 4, woke in the night crying from hunger. Israel had been obstructing food and humanitarian aid from reaching Gaza, particularly in the north, creating a dire risk of starvation.

That day, she had consumed only a simple soup made from wild mallow.

A garden born from necessity and nurtured by hope

I gave her stale bread that my wife had baked using animal feed, and she soon fell asleep. However, I spent the night awake, troubled by thoughts of my children going to bed with empty stomachs.

Determined to take action, I promised myself I would gather seeds, soil, and perhaps even chickens, to create a garden that would spare my children from having to eat animal feed to curb their hunger.

My older children take joy in capturing the beauty of the garden through photographs and love to discover hidden vegetables among the foliage, while Lilia savors the rewards of their hard work. Although our building is raised, providing us with sweeping views of Gaza, we are resolved not to dwell on the devastation that surrounds us, much like we strive to block out the relentless noise of Israeli drones and fighter jets, quickly retreating inside when aircraft hover directly above.

This situation isn’t new for me; I’ve faced horrific conditions before. I’ve suffered through decades of military occupation, an 18-year-long siege, and numerous violent assaults. As an industrial engineer and inventor, I embody the saying, “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

Indeed, due to the blockade, Israel prohibited the entry of 3D printers. Thus, I taught myself to build them from scrap materials and repurposed filament. With these homemade printers, I produced tourniquets to assist wounded Palestinian youth during the “Great March of Return” protests and crafted protective masks for shielding against burns during Israel’s attacks on Gaza in the spring of 2021.

Later that year, an Israeli bombing obliterated my workshop, erasing all I had built over 15 years in mere moments.

Nevertheless, I refused to succumb to despair.

Gaza’s people deserve liberation and the chance to flourish

Even though Israel has shattered all my creations and the tools I painstakingly developed, they were unable to break my spirit; I was resolute in my desire to rebuild.

For many months, I dedicated all my energy to reconstructing what had taken me years to create. I even acquired a significant amount of money through my work, which aided in settling my debts and enhancing my workshop. Things were starting to look promising, and my outlook was turning positive.

However, hope is often fleeting in Gaza.

The bombardment of the Gaza Strip, which started a year ago, has been unyielding. Israel has not only demolished my workshop yet again but has systematically wrecked much of Gaza’s industrial base, aiming to eradicate the productive sector and obliterating numerous factories.

Recovering from the 2021 assault was painfully slow. Rebuilding now feels like an impossibility.

The global community, particularly the Biden administration, has yet to exert significant pressure on Israel to halt the bombardments that are claiming and injuring tens of thousands of civilians.

As I approach my second birthday in an environment being scrutinized as genocide, I have lost over 60 pounds due to ongoing malnutrition and suffer from painful gout in my feet. Sleep eludes me. Yet, every day I remind myself to embrace life fully, treating each day as though it’s the final day of the assault. I strive to achieve something that can make the following day slightly better.

Planting and harvesting vegetables with my children serve not just for nutrition or mental well-being amidst trauma; it’s essential to foster innovation, whether that’s constructing a 3D printer from discarded materials or creating a space of beauty amid destruction. This is crucial for my children and our community to not only endure but also have the opportunity to flourish and live meaningful lives filled with the freedom we urgently seek and deserve.