The Aftershock
My family escaped the destruction of Gaza. In the quiet of exile, we discovered the cost of staying intact.
The story, titled "The Aftershock," unfolds in December of 2025, a year after Rafik's birth in Gaza following a two-week Israeli bombing campaign. At just four years old, Rafik was adjusting to life in a new country, Paterson, after his family relocated in hopes of finding comfort. His transition was not easy; Rafik struggled with sleep, clamped his hands over his ears at the sound of a door slamming, and opened his lunchbox in silence during lunchtime, often forgetting to eat.
The playground was the only place where Rafik felt comfortable, with his teacher describing him as a "good runner."
One day, after Rafik's first day of school, a teacher called to inform Rafik's father of an urgent matter. Upon entering the schoolyard, Rafik was seen red-faced and crying in a corner. The teacher had inadvertently set a trap for Rafik by using his brand-new sleeping bag during nap time, as Rafik could only sleep with the room fully lit and with one of his parents beside him. The father insisted on taking Rafik home, assuring him that everything would be alright.
A month later, tragedy struck as an air strike brought the ceiling down on the family. Rafik was buried under the debris, and the father, passing out in the dust, was rescued by emergency teams. The feeling of being buried remained with Rafik and his family, and the father found it challenging to embrace the fast-paced metropolis of Paterson.
The father's body was incapable of convincing Rafik that the calm around them was real, and the young boy remained silent, hoarding words until panic forced them out. Despite the father's attempts to adjust, the environment felt violent and heavy, jarring him from the comfort of his Gaza upbringing.
Written by urgent.news from The New Yorker's reporting — not their text. Machine-written — may contain errors; check the original before relying on it.