“I don’t wish anyone to have to choose between staying in their land or saving their lives,” he says in his book. The eyes of Gaza (Discussion, 2025) Palestinian journalist Plestia Alaqad. He repeats it in the interview with this newspaper, his voice broken by guilt, nostalgia and a certain anger. Born in Gaza almost 24 years ago, she had just returned to the Strip after completing her university studies in Cyprus when Hamas completed its attacks on October 7, 2023 and incessant Israeli bombing began. His live shows for various media, and especially his videos on Instagram, began to be seen by hundreds of thousands of people. Today he has four million followers on this social network.
“In Gaza it doesn’t matter if you plan everything in detail, Israel will always have different plans for you,” he says bitterly in this videoconference conversation from Lebanon, where he received a scholarship to study for a master’s degree after leaving Gaza, thanks to relatives with foreign passports, at the end of November 2023.
His book, a bestseller in English and recently translated into Spanish, is a personal diary, a journey through the first weeks of bombing and destruction in Gaza, in which denial in the face of a world that is collapsing, the anguish of not knowing how to protect oneself and the need to humanize and call by name those who die, flee and fight to survive coexist.
Ask. In his book he writes that in Gaza the ceasefire, current or past, is only the space between two tragedies.
Answer. YES. I want the world to understand that the genocide in Gaza does not end when the bombs end. It remains in the minds and daily lives of those who survive. Since this truce came into force, Israel has killed dozens of Palestinians and the Palestinians in the Strip continue to suffer from the lack of everything, the essentials. We want open borders, we want freedom of movement, we want Israel to be held accountable.
Q. In his book the word aggression, to refer to the Israeli offensive, is always written with a capital A. Why?
R. I wanted to say it that way because words matter. For example, the press talks about the war in Gaza, when in fact it is a genocide. Or he calls Hind Rajab, a five-year-old girl killed by Israeli soldiers, a woman, as if calling her a woman and not a child would make her death less serious. You have to call things by their name. And this is aggression with a capital letter.
I wonder how many times people have to start from scratch just because they are Palestinian and because the Israeli occupation exists
Q. You say that in Gaza there is no point in making plans because nothing is under control. Even before October 7, 2023.
R. In much of the world, you get up and decide what to do and you have your routines. In Gaza it doesn’t matter if you plan everything in detail, Israel will always have different plans for you. You may interview a family one day and come back the next to talk to them again, but find out that they died in a bombing. You may get up and plan to take a shower, but it turns out there is no water. Anything, even the trivial and small acts, are beyond our control.
Q. In the book you ask how many times Palestinians have to start from scratch. It’s an unanswered question.
R. AND. Since 1948, when we were expelled from our homes. My grandmother had to leave Jaffa around that time, rebuilt her life in Gaza as a child and is now starting a new life in Australia. That’s why I wonder how many times people have to start from scratch just because they are Palestinian and because the Israeli occupation exists.
Q. Since October 2023, at least 200 journalists have lost their lives in violent ways. According to RSF and CPJ, some of them were targeted by military forces. How do you deal with the anxiety of being a target?
R. In Gaza, even people who are supposed to report victims are killed and become victims. I continually think of my colleagues who risk their lives and that of their families for the profession they have chosen. If it weren’t for them, the world wouldn’t know what’s happening in Gaza. And behind every number there is a name and a story. For example, my name is Plestia and I thought a lot about how my death would be reported. Maybe they couldn’t even pronounce my name correctly, or maybe it would be a one-minute headline on one media outlet soon to be replaced by another news story. And probably no one would condemn whoever killed me.
Leaders are afraid of refugees. They should be afraid of what makes us refugees and try to stop it. If there were no occupation and genocide, we would not be refugees
Q. He gets angry when asked why he chose to leave Gaza and gets angry when asked if he wants to return.
R. I didn’t decide to leave. What options did I have? I could stay in Gaza and wait for death or have a chance to survive. The painful thing is that most people can’t even consider it because they don’t have another passport or family members with other nationalities who can apply for it. The same thing happens when people ask me if I want to come back. I have no choice. I can’t enter Gaza at the moment. And when I want to go to Western countries it is also very complicated: I have to apply for a visa and prove that I am only visiting, because the leaders are afraid of refugees. They should be afraid of what makes us refugees and try to stop it. If there were no occupation and genocide, we would not be refugees.
Q. How do you deal with the guilt you reference in the book?
R. All Palestinians face survivor’s guilt, inside or outside Gaza. When you are in Gaza you feel bad because your house wasn’t bombed and your neighbor’s house was. Or why your friend had a leg amputated and you didn’t. It’s an endless spiral of pain. And when you’re far away everything is worse. Now I’m in a safe place, I have a home, food and water. It’s basic, but it’s a luxury in Gaza.
Q. You write that the world sees Palestinians as perfect victims, but never as people. Is it still like this?
R. In some parts of the world yes. This is not the case in Spain, where you are very sensitive to the Palestinian issue. I know there are many flags and demonstrations in the streets and that you see us as human beings. They are examples that give us hope. The essential thing, anywhere in the world, is to differentiate governments from people, because there are people who are very supportive of us, even if their leaders are not.
All Palestinians face survivor’s guilt, inside or outside Gaza. When you are in Gaza you feel bad because your house wasn’t bombed and your neighbor’s house was
Q. Before October 2023 you wanted to publish articles and images that demonstrated that Gaza was not just a place of violence and destruction, and you wanted to continue doing so after that date, despite what was happening.
R. Gaza is much more than death and demolished houses, even if at the moment we only see articles about the genocide that Israel is committing. There are people who love life and who fight to continue living. My memories are in Gaza, my home is in Gaza. Even though it’s demolished right now, it’s still my home. Even if Israel tries to steal my land, it is still my land.
Q. The final question is one you ask yourself at various points in the book. Who is Plestia Alaqad?
R. I answer as I finished the book: There was a Plestia before October 7, 2023, a Plestia during the genocide, and there will be a version of me when all this is over, but I don’t know what it will be yet.
