In the southern part of the Gaza Strip there is a camp for refugees and volunteers, where many orphaned children and other civilians left disabled by the ongoing genocide find, for an uncertain time, a fragile refuge—a semblance of safety. After all, it is well known: in Gaza no place is ever truly safe, and poor Palestinians live constantly aware that they will hardly be able to have a stable home, at least for now. This has been the case for many, many years.
In this camp works a 22-year-old Palestinian girl named Ayah. A name her mother gave her because, after years of hardships and suffering—caused above all by the violence and oppression that mark that land—her birth represented hope, a gift. Ayah carries out her service with zeal and burning love, assisting those in need together with other volunteers, some of whom come from abroad.
It is here that she meets Mohammed, a 25-year-old Sudanese man. Forced to flee Sudan because of the war and the ongoing genocide, he crossed kilometers of desert and inhospitable lands before reaching the southern part of the Strip, even before Ayah’s arrival. Mohammed has lost everything, especially his family. With nothing left to lose, he pushed himself to that place, unaware that he would once again find himself caught up in another war—if one can even call it that. Perhaps, once again, it would be more accurate to call it genocide.
Working side by side, the two form a strong friendship that, over the months, slowly evolves into something deeper: a pure, silent love, made of respect, glances, and simple gestures.
One day Mohammed decides to head toward the beach to admire a sunset that appears magnificent, coloring the sky in shades of pink and purple.
“This Mediterranean beach is truly stunning,” he thinks to himself.
“It reminds me so much of the afternoons spent along the riverbanks, with my closest friends or with my family, contemplating the landscape. If only Allah would allow me to relive, even for just a few minutes, those sweet and light-hearted moments with the people I love…”
Meanwhile, Ayah notices him from afar and approaches, eager to exchange a few words, sensing how absorbed he is in his thoughts.
“Ayah, you’re here?! Please, sit down,” he says, turning toward her.
“Mohammed, I’m sorry to disturb you. I know how important it is for you to carve out moments of silence and reflection.”
“No, really, don’t worry. I’m glad you’re here, you know that,” he replies.
“This sunset is particularly beautiful, with these colors… It’s a pity it’s destined to last only a short time. It’s fleeting, like moments of joy on this Earth, so afflicted by wars, genocides, poverty, and every kind of evil.”
“You’re right, Mohammed,” Ayah replies. “But it is thanks to the resilience that Allah instills in us that we can continue to fight—with the power of love, service, hope, and complete trust in Him. We are here in this camp and, despite past suffering, it is by helping others unconditionally that we find the strength to go on living. Giving ourselves for those who are worse off than us, receiving a smile, a word of comfort… it is these small gestures that elevate our souls.”
“Yes… and you know, I have lost my entire family,” Mohammed says, his voice veiled. “Some were victims of the war, others fled who knows where. May Allah welcome the former and guide and protect the latter.”
“And that is why I feel such deep admiration for you,” Ayah replies.
“Despite everything you have lived through and are still living in this foreign land, your golden heart drives you not to give up and to take care of those children left without parents and of all those wounded in body and soul.”
“Your heart says so much about you as well, Ayah,” Mohammed adds, gently taking her hand.
“I see it in your actions, in your dedication, in your honey-colored eyes… And yet I wonder if one day we will be able to build our lives elsewhere. I would love to continue studying medicine. In Sudan I couldn’t—I had to flee… otherwise I could be even more useful.”
“Don’t say that, Mohammed. What you do has immense value, and Allah knows it. He scrutinizes every one of our actions and knows the good that each person does. Who knows—perhaps one day we will travel to another part of the world… it would be wonderful.”
“That would be truly beautiful. I would love to see snow; I’ve never seen it.”
“We could go to places with snowy landscapes, like Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan…”
“I don’t know them, but I’d love to discover them. Those mountains, those green meadows…”
“And then Indonesia,” Ayah adds with a smile. “An enchanting place. For now, we can only travel with our minds, my dear Mohammed. If only dreams could take shape…”
“In part, they can,” he replies.
“We can be the architects of our destiny and of that of others, through our ideas and our choices. Even the smallest actions, if driven by pure intention, are dear to Allah, and it is He who strengthens and multiplies them.”
“You’re so right. A lot!” Ayah says, gazing at the sky. “Like these wonderful stars.”
“Another sublime creation,” Mohammed murmurs.
“I like to imagine that my loved ones who have left this Earth are now up there—shining stars that guide and protect us. It is this thought that helps me rise above and hope to become like them, if Allah wills it.”
Tears begin to fall down Mohammed’s face. He tries to wipe them away quickly, turning aside.
“My dear Mohammed, do not feel ashamed,” Ayah says gently.
“Being a true man does not mean hiding one’s sensitivity or not crying. It is precisely this depth, along with your courage and your pure heart, that has bound me to you.”
“Ayah, my dear, thank you for your sweet words. I haven’t felt such deep love in a long time—since I was deprived of everything. I know I receive much from this camp, but what I feel for you and with you is not the same. It is something special, something pure.”
“It is feeling loved and respected, being on the same wavelength,” she replies.
“And even though I am poor, afflicted in my soul and full of hope, I feel lucky and rich within. We carry treasures inside us that we will take with us even after this earthly experience. Money, power, fame, and all that is external will be left behind here.”
“Wise words,” Mohammed says.
“In any case, Ayah, what will we do if the army reaches this place? I’ve been thinking about this lately as well. You should flee before that happens.”
“I don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to abandon this community,” Ayah replies.
“We are a family, and we have taken this mission to heart, because that very Unconditional Love—which drives us to give without expecting anything in return—connects us, connects our hearts, our souls, our spirits. Allah will enlighten us; He will show us the way. For now, let us enjoy this beautiful starry sky, as long as we have the chance to contemplate the beauty of Allah’s creation.”
Having said this, they both remained silent for a while, admiring those infinite lights. They did not know what their destiny would be, nor whether some delegate of goodwill would bring True Peace to their tormented lands, with Justice and Righteousness. Yet they were certain that every second lived in service, love, hope, and faith placed in Allah are precious gifts—for all eternity.
(10/01/2026)
