'Being safe doesn't mean you are unaffected': Palestinians in Algeria carry the fear of what is happening to their families in Gaza

For Palestinians from Gaza who left for Algeria after Israel’s genocidal war began, moving thousands of kilometres away has not meant leaving the war behind. Many remain in constant contact with family members in Gaza, waiting for messages and calls that can tell them whether their loved ones are still safe.

Ahmed Salem is one of three Palestinians from Gaza now living in Algeria. He has lived in Algiers since 2021, but after Israel's war began, his phone became his main link to his parents and two younger siblings who remain in Gaza.

These days, Ahmed checks his phone before doing anything else in the morning. Not out of habit, he says, but because he needs to know his family is safe.

A green dot next to his mother’s name is often the only sign that tells him the night has passed without anything going wrong.

"I don’t wake up thinking about my meetings anymore," he tells The New Arab. "The first thing I think about is whether the messages went through."

Nearly three years into Israel's ongoing genocide, the 2,500 kilometres between Algeria and Gaza means something different to Ahmed now.

Before October 2023, Ahmed’s calls home were ordinary. They talked about work, asked about a cousin’s wedding and complained about the electricity.

"We used to argue about small things," he continues. "Now I’d give anything just to argue about something small again."

His calls to home are different now — he calls to find out who is still there and who has answered the phone. He wants to know who picked up, who did not, and what might have happened.

Keeping one eye on Gaza

Yasser Abu Rokba, who also lives in Algeria, has a similar experience to Ahmed's, although the circumstances that brought them there are different.

Yasser, a communications student, arrived in Algeria in 2022 to study. He expected to return to Gaza within a few years. His parents and older brother are still there.

He describes the first weeks of Israel's war as the hardest time of his life, mainly because he did not know what was happening to his family.

"There were days when we couldn’t get any news," he says. "You start trying to convince yourself that no news doesn’t necessarily mean bad news. It doesn’t really make you feel better, but you keep telling yourself that."

Yasser adds that the uncertainty has also affected his everyday life in Algeria. He finds it hard to concentrate during lectures and keeps his phone close to him during exams, even though students are not allowed to use their phones, "just in case."

He is also careful about what he tells his family.

"We don’t tell each other everything anymore," he shares. "It’s not that we’re lying to each other. We’re just trying to protect each other a little."

For Mahmoud Zayd, a doctoral student in law, being away from Gaza has also brought new responsibilities. He says his parents were displaced twice during the first year of the war, while he has had to take on financial responsibilities from abroad.

He sends money when transfers are possible. When they are not, he tries to help his family get medicine through relatives and community contacts.

"You become like a logistics office for your own family from thousands of kilometres away," he tells The New Arab. "But you can’t see what’s really happening, and you can’t fix what’s broken."

Mahmoud is careful not to say that his situation is harder than what his family is going through in Gaza.

"I’m safe, and I think that needs to be said clearly," he says. "But being safe doesn’t mean you’re unaffected. I experience the war differently from them, but I still carry it with me."

Support, and its limits

All three men say they have received support in Algeria from the Palestinian community, other students and people around them.

This is perhaps unsurprising given Algeria’s long history of supporting the Palestinian cause, shaped by its own experience of colonial rule and struggle for national liberation.

For instance, the men talk about the everyday support they receive from the people around them.

Classmates help when they miss classes, neighbours ask about their families, and people they know no longer ask, "How are you?" as a casual question.

They also say their universities have offered support, including more flexibility with deadlines and other help. 

Mahmoud and Yasser say they have heard about special support for Palestinian students at Algerian universities, although neither could give specific details or figures, and these claims would need to be confirmed by university officials.

What remains

Looking back on his experience of living away from home, Ahmed pauses when asked what he wants people to understand about his own experience, and that of Palestinians forced to leave their homeland.

"That we’re not just people who left," he says. "We left, but our lives didn’t leave with us. Our families are still there, and they’re still trying to figure out what home means for us. I just find out what’s happening through my phone."

Yasser gives a shorter answer: "I used to think about the future in years," he says. "Now I think about it one phone call at a time."

As for Mahmoud, he says: "You haven’t asked what happens if the phone stops ringing one day and never starts again. I think about that more than anything else. I just don’t say it out loud very often."

Ramez Alashqar is an English lecturer, translator and writer