Nevin tem um grande amor pela cultura, pelos livros. Não suporta que muitos livros desapareçam no meio dos escombros de Gaza, por isso tem recolhido e restaurado os livros, que depois põe à disposição da comunidade palestiniana, enquanto livros usados, por preço baixo. Ela não suporta ver livros serem utilizados para acender fogueiras. Os livros devem ser para as pessoas os lerem. Sem gás ou electricidade, Nevin, como toda a gente em Gaza, é obrigada a gastar uma grande parte do seu tempo procurando madeira para cozinhar. Nesta tarefa é acompanhada pelas suas filhas, que a ajudam a recolher bocados de madeira, para esse fim.
No site «Palestine will be free» leia a história verídica da «salvadora de livros» Nevin e sua família.
É importante que as pessoas compreendam como é duro viver em Gaza nas condições impostas pelo ocupante sionista. A punição coletiva inclui a impossibilidade de reconstruir as escolas e os hospitais para servir a população, assim como a frequente barragem da chegada de alimentos e medicamentos, das agências da ONU e doutras organizações humanitárias.
[NB: numerosos artigos, vídeos e outras peças, têm sido postados neste blog, em mais de 10 anos de postagens quase quotidianas. Convido os leitores a usarem o dispositivo de pesquisa deste blog, na página inicial, para obterem informação relativa a Israel, à Palestina e às questões associadas ao conflito. Obrigado pela vossa atenção. Manuel Banet]
https://palestinewillbefree.substack.com/p/the-book-preserver-of-gazaThe book preserver of Gaza“I used to read every book I found because I love knowledge, and I feel that these books deserve to be preserved.”
As the Israelis have continued their long history of wanton destruction of Palestinians and everything they hold dear, Palestinians, even in the midst of the Western-backed Israeli Holocaust in the Gaza Strip over the past three years, are doing what they have always done: preserving, protecting, and perpetuating their culture, history, identity, dignity, and the enduring bonds of community, thereby ensuring that Palestinian life, memory, and heritage survive and flourish despite every attempt to erase them. Nevin al-Gharabli is one such preserver of knowledge in the Gaza Strip. She finds books and novels from beneath the rubble of homes destroyed by the Israelis and restores them, refusing to let their pages become fuel for lighting fires at a time when her family is searching for the most basic necessities of life. The 41-year-old has set aside a small corner for the literature she salvages, alongside piles of firewood and cardboard that she sells to provide for her family. “Her eyes move between the materials she has collected for heating and reading, while her six children help her manage the demands of daily life,” Ultra Palestine reported. “There is little space between the two corners: the firewood provides the family with a limited income, while the books she offers for sale tell another story about a woman who has not abandoned her passion for knowledge despite the harshness of her circumstances.” “After our first displacement from the Shuja’iyya neighbourhood, east of Gaza City, to Rafah in the south of the Strip, at the end of December 2023, I decided to collect firewood, chop it, and sell it,” she told Ultra Palestine. “Gas supplies had been cut off, and people had come to rely on firewood to light fires for cooking. I saw this work as an opportunity to support my family and provide my children with their daily bread.”
The family’s breadwinnerThe ongoing Israeli genocide has compounded Nevin’s already difficult circumstances. Her husband suffers from high blood pressure and is unable to work, while three of her children require special care because they have suffered from brain atrophy since birth: Marwa, 20, Nada, 18, and Jamil, seven. The responsibility for providing for her family rests squarely on Nevin’s shoulders. Before the start of the genocide, Nevin worked in a sewing factory, earning enough to support her children and pay her daughter Marwa’s secondary school fees. Despite the difficult work, she valued her financial independence and refused to rely on others for help. “I used to work to provide for my home and help my daughter complete her studies,” she said. “I did not want to ask anyone for anything. I preferred to earn my living through my own efforts, no matter how tired I became.” But just like the rest of the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, Nevin’s life was totally upended by the genocide. Her home was destroyed and she lost her source of income. At the start of the so-called ceasefire in October 2025, she spent all her money moving from the south of the Strip to Gaza City. Starting afreshNevin set up her tent on one of the streets in western Gaza City, then returned to collecting and selling firewood. Her three daughters accompany her on arduous journeys to the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood and the town of Beit Lahia in the north of the Strip, where they walk in search of pieces of wood among the ruins of homes destroyed by the genocidal Israelis. During these exhausting journeys, Nevin began finding educational, religious and instructional books alongside novels and other works. She picked them up from among the stones and dust, leafing through them before keeping them to read. She did not see them as mere papers abandoned among the rubble, but as material worthy of reaching a new reader, whatever the circumstances surrounding them might be. She remembers the first book she found, entitled Arabic Poetry, and smiles as she recalls how much she admired its words: “I used to read every book I found because I love knowledge, and I feel that these books deserve to be preserved. When I read the book Arabic Poetry, I was impressed by the beauty of the language and the words. I felt that I had found something different amid all this destruction.”
In the Gaza inferno, where there are barely any resources to go around amid relentless Israeli destruction and the crushing Israeli siege that remains in place despite the “ceasefire,” people have approached Nevin to buy the books for lighting fires or rolling cigarettes. But she couldn’t fathom the idea that the books she so painstakingly salvaged should end up that way after surviving bombings and the rubble. She knew that selling them could provide her with some money, but she wanted to give them another chance in the hands of readers. “I could not sell them to someone who wanted to burn them or use them for cigarettes,” Nevin said. “These are books, and they contain knowledge and learning. People have the right to read them. We search for firewood so that we can cook and live, but I cannot bear to see a book turned into a means of lighting a fire.” Nevin’s librarySeven months ago, she turned her love for books into a small project. She dedicated a corner beside the firewood and cardboard for the salvaged books and began offering them to reading enthusiasts at symbolic prices ranging from 8 to 10 shekels. To ensure that penury does not stand in the way of reading, she lends books free of charge to those who cannot afford them, asking only that they return them once they have finished reading. For her, this corner is not simply about buying and selling; it gives her an opportunity to share with others something she loves, while also helping her earn a little money amid a suffocating livelihood crisis. Nevin was unable to complete secondary school because of the difficult circumstances her family experienced and her father’s inability to educate her. He believed his meagre resources were better spent putting food on the table for his eight children than on education. For Nevin, however, learning wasn’t confined to classrooms. She learnt English on television until she was able to speak it, and she finds in books a space in which to make up for the education she missed, opening a window before her that the war cannot close. “I had hoped to complete my studies, but life did not give me that opportunity,” Nevin said. “Nevertheless, I did not stop learning. I learnt English in my spare time, and I try to benefit from every book that comes into my hands. I love reading, and I hope to see my children learn and complete their education despite everything we are going through.”
Personal hardshipsNevin, like most Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, lives in extreme hardship. Her tent lacks a private toilet for the family. She fills containers with water with her children, carries them, and cooks food over a wood fire. Most of their days are consumed by searching for wood, chopping it, arranging the pieces at their stall, and taking care of the household’s needs. Nevin is especially pained by seeing her daughters share her taxing work instead of living safer and more comfortable lives. “I feel sorry for my daughters,” she said. “They go out with me to collect firewood and walk long distances, then help me arrange the wood and manage the household affairs. I hope I can provide them with a better life and see them free from this exhaustion.” Her youngest child, Yusuf, 5, remains close to her most of the time. Instead of going to school — the Israelis have damaged 98 percent of schools in the Gaza Strip and more than 900,000 children are deprived of education — Yusuf helps his mother at the stall. He stands beside the stall and helps her chop wood and arrange it. “I like helping mom with her work,” said Yusuf. “I chop the wood and arrange it on the small stall to help her, and I like staying beside her.”
She is pleased to see him close to her, but is saddened that his childhood is passing among firewood and tents instead of school and play. Like all Palestinians, however, Nevin’s thoughts never leave home. “I wish my home had remained standing and my work had continued,” she said, referring to her destroyed home in the Shuja’iyya neighbourhood. “I used to work and get tired, but I was able to provide for my children’s needs. Today, I am trying to live in a tent that lacks the most basic things, and every day I search for a way to carry on.” Em complemento: Intervenção de Francesca Albanese (29 de Out. 2026) |
