Gaza 'scholasticide'. "Escolicidio" en Gaza ENG ESP

Photo: A Palestinian woman walks through the destroyed Islamic University of Gaza, where she has taken shelter, in Gaza City, on 1 June 2025 (Dawoud Abu Alkas/Reuters)

ENGLISH

Gaza 'scholasticide': We mourn our universities as one mourns an old friend
Ghada Abu Muaileq
25 October 2025 

As students like me try to rebuild our shattered lives, the ruins of our institutions stand as monuments to Israel's assault - not only on Palestinian bodies, but on our learning and future.

Here I am, answering your call, my university of truth.
Here I am, standing tall with your flag held high.
Here I am, a pioneer on the path of our pride.
Here I am, shining like the full moon in the dark.
Here I am, my university...

This is the anthem of my university, the Islamic University of Gaza (IUG). I once dreamed of chanting it on graduation day, standing on the stage of the Grand Conference Hall.

My classmates and I planned that day in detail: what we would wear, which photographer we would book and the colour of the flower bouquets our families would bring.

These are ordinary dreams for any student in the world, but in Gaza, even the simplest ones become unattainable, or are suddenly ripped away, leaving only fragments of memory.

I still don't know what compelled me to do so, but on that last day of classes before 7 October 2023, I found myself wandering through every corridor of the university. I stayed late that Friday, not returning home until four in the afternoon.
....
Grieving an old friend

We studied online, determined to keep our education alive, even as Gaza was being decimated. The few remaining buildings - including the Faculty of Arts, where I once attended my lectures - became shelters for the displaced.

As the war dragged on, the bombings grew more random and deadly, targeting the last standing buildings and towers in Gaza City. On 14 September, Israeli occupation forces committed a horrific massacre. The university was struck by 11 heavy air strikes in three waves.

An eyewitness said: "The occupation bombed the Faculty of Arts building twice in a row. The displaced thought the evacuation order had ended and returned to retrieve their belongings. Then the occupation bombed the building a third time as people were re-entering, and no one could go in to rescue them."

The headline read: "Missing and wounded after an air strike on the Islamic University in Gaza." Just another fleeting update on the daily news ticker - part of the endless tally of death and destruction, with no real action to end this disregard for Palestinian life.

Even under the so-called ceasefire, my cherished university is in ruins. Its broken labs, charred books and empty classrooms stand as silent witnesses to what has been lost and what may never be rebuilt.

From the first strike to this fragile pause, we have mourned our university as one mourns a loved one. A basic right was stripped from us in plain sight of the world. Our memories will never return; they are forever stained with blood.

Today, IUG stands as a monument to Israel's genocide in Gaza - an unrelenting campaign that has targeted not only lives, but the very foundations of Palestinian culture and learning, seeking to extinguish our future long after the last bomb has fallen.

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