Mohammed Omer Almoghayer is a Palestinian author and journalist, born and raised in Rafah, south Gaza Strip. He has reported for various media outlets, including The New York Times, Al Jazeera, The New Statesman, the Nation and Democracy Now. Omer Almoghayer is the author of Shell-Shocked and co-author of The Oslo Accords 1993–2013: A Critical Assessment. He is a recipient of the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism, has a PhD in communication science, and has worked as a research fellow at Harvard University's Center for Middle East Studies.

From the Introduction

As a fresh-faced research fellow at Columbia University’s School of Journalism in New York, a secret smile danced across my lips when I overheard a whisper like, “He was born and raised in a refugee camp, you know. Must have been so rough.”

I had to stop myself from laughing, astounded by the way folks fixate on the sad side of the story, blind to the myriad treasures I know are also at play in Gaza. The region’s rich cultural heritage, spanning centuries, finds expression in music, dance, theater, film, fashion, sport, gastronomy, and poetry. Influenced by its vaunted place as an ancient trade route, Gaza has a distinct character, archaeological treasures, and a cuisine that includes delectable seafood dishes and some of the best strawberries in the world. Gaza’s Mediterranean beaches, with golden sands and cerulean waves, show the coastal strip as it once was and still could be—a seaside paradise. There is a fleeting stillness every day at sunset and dawn, with views reminiscent of coastal Greece, Spain, Thailand, Mauritius, Cornwall, Brazil, New Zealand, or the Bahamas.

There is beauty, too, in Gaza’s streets. Neighbors prop each other up, joining hands in celebrating holidays, weddings, and other extraordinary moments. If you find yourself short on cash, you are forgiven by a taxi driver. If you lose your cellphone, a brigade of searchers emerges within moments, combing each nook and cranny until it’s found. In Gaza, friendship blooms in minutes, not months. Before you know it, you’ve been invited into a new friend’s home and offered a feast fit for kings.

In the company of farmers, every dish is a testament to the hard work of cultivating the bounties of the land. Imagine, if you will, the appetizing aroma of qalayet bandora, a mouthwatering concoction made with freshly plucked tomatoes, piquant onions, and fiery serrano peppers, with rich local olive oil and a sprinkle of salt, all simmered over a crackling campfire. As the magic unfolds in the frying pan, a symphony of scent teases the senses with each sizzle. Served alongside freshly baked bread and just-picked garden greens, it is a feast that would be the envy of the world, if only they knew about it. What some of our Gazan dining experiences might lack in cosmopolitan flair, they make up for in their charm, which stems from their authenticity. And that’s to say nothing of the warmth of the welcome and the quality of conversations that often go long into the warm, starry nights.

Gaza is a diamond in the rough, a hidden gem the media does not know how to polish. In this book, I will tell you some of the intriguing and inspiring secrets of this most misunderstood and hidden territory, only twenty-five miles from top to bottom, home to more than 2.3 million people, half of them children, about 70% Palestinian refugees driven from their homes in cities and villages surrounding Gaza in 1948. They persevere in finding solace and delight in the simplest of pleasures as their lives and their passionate pursuits entwine.

One connecting thread in this book is Naji, a man from a war-torn village in northern Gaza. A photo of him blindfolded, zip-tied, half-buried, and presided over by armed Israeli soldiers appeared in a news image that captured the concern and imagination of a family from Houston. They happened to see it in an airport in Dubai and wanted to help, motivated by a sense of duty, frustration, anger, compassion, and guilt. I was tasked with locating the man and connecting him with the Americans. For Naji and his family, this proved to be a turning point, opening up greater financial freedom and a path toward the future.

Another recurring character is my good friend Hassan, proprietor of a medical laboratory nestled in the heart of Rafah, my native city located on the Egyptian border in the south of Gaza. I met him when I was a teenager donating blood to help victims of Israeli invasions. He was intrigued by my decision to help at such a young age, and despite our notable age difference, a strong and enduring friendship was sparked. I learned a great deal from him about life, witnessing his everyday work as well as his life-altering interventions for people dealing with fertility struggles—whether his clients were too fertile or had trouble conceiving.

Later in the book, there is a sudden interruption. The author mysteriously disappears from the scene, kidnapped by unknown assailants. The story of my torture and interrogation raises questions that still need answers.

It must be noted that I made a pact with my publisher to write this book two years ago. As we stand on the precipice of publication, we witness the ongoing mass destruction of nearly everything Gazans have worked to build for themselves over decades of occupation and siege. Not everything—you can find occasional whimsy and joy even in camps full of displaced and hungry children, with teenagers leading Dabka dances and men dressed as clowns entertaining young kids. Or you may see the sky swarming with kites, the Palestinian answer to F-16 fighter jets. When the fire ceases and the dust settles, we will see what can be salvaged.

Don’t be deceived—the people of Gaza are not a defeated people. Gazans possess an incredible level of determination that ignites the entire community. The stories in this book are a testament to this strength and resilience that defines true human dignity.

Mohammed Omer Almoghayer is a Palestinian author and journalist, born and raised in Rafah, south Gaza Strip. He has reported for various media outlets, including The New York Times, Al Jazeera, The New Statesman, the Nation and Democracy Now. Omer Almoghayer is the author of Shell-Shocked and co-author of The Oslo Accords 1993–2013: A Critical Assessment. He is a recipient of the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism, has a PhD in communication science, and has worked as a research fellow at Harvard University's Center for Middle East Studies.

From the Introduction

As a fresh-faced research fellow at Columbia University’s School of Journalism in New York, a secret smile danced across my lips when I overheard a whisper like, “He was born and raised in a refugee camp, you know. Must have been so rough.”

I had to stop myself from laughing, astounded by the way folks fixate on the sad side of the story, blind to the myriad treasures I know are also at play in Gaza. The region’s rich cultural heritage, spanning centuries, finds expression in music, dance, theater, film, fashion, sport, gastronomy, and poetry. Influenced by its vaunted place as an ancient trade route, Gaza has a distinct character, archaeological treasures, and a cuisine that includes delectable seafood dishes and some of the best strawberries in the world. Gaza’s Mediterranean beaches, with golden sands and cerulean waves, show the coastal strip as it once was and still could be—a seaside paradise. There is a fleeting stillness every day at sunset and dawn, with views reminiscent of coastal Greece, Spain, Thailand, Mauritius, Cornwall, Brazil, New Zealand, or the Bahamas.

There is beauty, too, in Gaza’s streets. Neighbors prop each other up, joining hands in celebrating holidays, weddings, and other extraordinary moments. If you find yourself short on cash, you are forgiven by a taxi driver. If you lose your cellphone, a brigade of searchers emerges within moments, combing each nook and cranny until it’s found. In Gaza, friendship blooms in minutes, not months. Before you know it, you’ve been invited into a new friend’s home and offered a feast fit for kings.

In the company of farmers, every dish is a testament to the hard work of cultivating the bounties of the land. Imagine, if you will, the appetizing aroma of qalayet bandora, a mouthwatering concoction made with freshly plucked tomatoes, piquant onions, and fiery serrano peppers, with rich local olive oil and a sprinkle of salt, all simmered over a crackling campfire. As the magic unfolds in the frying pan, a symphony of scent teases the senses with each sizzle. Served alongside freshly baked bread and just-picked garden greens, it is a feast that would be the envy of the world, if only they knew about it. What some of our Gazan dining experiences might lack in cosmopolitan flair, they make up for in their charm, which stems from their authenticity. And that’s to say nothing of the warmth of the welcome and the quality of conversations that often go long into the warm, starry nights.

Gaza is a diamond in the rough, a hidden gem the media does not know how to polish. In this book, I will tell you some of the intriguing and inspiring secrets of this most misunderstood and hidden territory, only twenty-five miles from top to bottom, home to more than 2.3 million people, half of them children, about 70% Palestinian refugees driven from their homes in cities and villages surrounding Gaza in 1948. They persevere in finding solace and delight in the simplest of pleasures as their lives and their passionate pursuits entwine.

One connecting thread in this book is Naji, a man from a war-torn village in northern Gaza. A photo of him blindfolded, zip-tied, half-buried, and presided over by armed Israeli soldiers appeared in a news image that captured the concern and imagination of a family from Houston. They happened to see it in an airport in Dubai and wanted to help, motivated by a sense of duty, frustration, anger, compassion, and guilt. I was tasked with locating the man and connecting him with the Americans. For Naji and his family, this proved to be a turning point, opening up greater financial freedom and a path toward the future.

Another recurring character is my good friend Hassan, proprietor of a medical laboratory nestled in the heart of Rafah, my native city located on the Egyptian border in the south of Gaza. I met him when I was a teenager donating blood to help victims of Israeli invasions. He was intrigued by my decision to help at such a young age, and despite our notable age difference, a strong and enduring friendship was sparked. I learned a great deal from him about life, witnessing his everyday work as well as his life-altering interventions for people dealing with fertility struggles—whether his clients were too fertile or had trouble conceiving.

Later in the book, there is a sudden interruption. The author mysteriously disappears from the scene, kidnapped by unknown assailants. The story of my torture and interrogation raises questions that still need answers.

It must be noted that I made a pact with my publisher to write this book two years ago. As we stand on the precipice of publication, we witness the ongoing mass destruction of nearly everything Gazans have worked to build for themselves over decades of occupation and siege. Not everything—you can find occasional whimsy and joy even in camps full of displaced and hungry children, with teenagers leading Dabka dances and men dressed as clowns entertaining young kids. Or you may see the sky swarming with kites, the Palestinian answer to F-16 fighter jets. When the fire ceases and the dust settles, we will see what can be salvaged.

Don’t be deceived—the people of Gaza are not a defeated people. Gazans possess an incredible level of determination that ignites the entire community. The stories in this book are a testament to this strength and resilience that defines true human dignity.