Gofran Ayad

Every time I hear a sound resembling an explosion, I relive the horror, one of many lasting scars of war engraved in the hearts of Libyans.

My name is Gofran Ayad, a French language graduate and entrepreneur.

On the evening of April 17, 2020, my brother Abdul Ghaffar went out to buy ingredients for a cake he had been craving and asking our mother to bake, which he never got to taste.

That day, I had just finished praying when Abdul Ghaffar rushed in. His features blurred, I could only hear his trembling voice as he told us that a rocket had struck in front of the grocery store. Just seconds later, a second explosion took place and shook the walls of our house, rushing us into panic.

We tried to escape the situation by leaving the house. I followed my mother, who was carrying my eight-year-old sister in her arms. The smoke made the air even more suffocating, we couldn't hear each other under the sounds of the hitting missiles, but we kept heading towards the neighbors' house.

My brother was walking just a few meters behind when a missile separated us. My mother cried his name in panic as her feet were covered in blood. I, heavily shocked by the horror of the scene, just stood speechless. We had no choice but to run without even realizing that we had left my brother behind forever.

Life went on. I graduated with a degree in French and started my own business, which won an entrepreneurship competition in Libya. But to this day, I have not forgotten that night. It left a wound that even time has not healed. My mother's health has deteriorated ever since, and I, at a young age, took on many responsibilities and learnt what it felt to lose a person and the level of pain war inflicts on a country.

Despite our efforts to strive in life, we are still affected by the countless nightmares and incurable trauma the war has left us with.

I hope our country thrives in peace, and its people live with dreams and aspirations, far from the cruelty of war. I hope one day we can fly in skies free of missiles.