Until We Deserve a Victory Like No Other
Mohammad Kawrani — 2026.09.21
The people of the South do not experience the war through news broadcasts; they live it in the intricate details of their daily lives. The sounds of shelling, explosions, and sonic booms remind us of what we read about the horrors of the Day of Resurrection. They live it in a home whose door was closed after returning to it became deferred; in a land that remains waiting for its owner; in a mother counting the remaining flour, oil, and rice in the kitchen cupboard. They live it on the long road to a safer place that offers a modicum of dignity; in a narrow room where family members share sleep, anxiety, and the memory of the martyrs; in a child asking when they will return home; and in a father trying to appear strong while not knowing what he will carry with him if forced to flee once again. And in a fighter (mujahid) who knows that what he is doing bears the weight of all humanity, because a mysterious disease has turned all peoples into robots without them even realizing it.
It is the hardship of lacking electricity and water, the high cost of living, the disruption of work and livelihoods, the loss of agricultural seasons, the fear of the road, and the constant anxiety over house, land, and relatives. It is waking up to an unknown sound and going to sleep wondering about the next day. It is when the simplest things—like buying bread, securing medicine, or sending children to school—become tasks requiring long calculations.
Yet, despite all this, the person of the South remains deeply attached to their land. Not because they do not grow tired, but because they have suffered so much. And not because they do not feel fear, but because they have learned that fear should never turn into uprooting a human being from their roots—and that there is no dignity for a human being stripped of weapons, mind, and conviction.
This suffering is not something to be glorified for its own sake, nor should poverty, displacement, and destruction become a permanent destiny. Rather, its true value lies in rallying resolve, gathering strength, and moving minds; in revealing the sheer extent of what people endure in defense of their land and dignity; and in placing upon future generations the responsibility to turn these sacrifices into a path toward a safer, more dignified, and just life—a revolution against everything that prevents us from revolting against an enemy that has stolen our land, our loved ones, and our well-being.
From here springs the hope for the grand victory that many dream of: the liberation of the land, the return of people to their homes, reconstruction, opening the path for free connection with the uprising West Bank, and one day arriving to pray at Al-Aqsa Mosque without barriers. Enemy aircraft would no longer raid our villages because they would have no airport to return to, and drones would no longer buzz in our ears after a new weapon drops them like fig leaves.
Most importantly, Southerners will reclaim from their villages—in exchange for every stone destroyed—ten precious stones; for every currency stolen, dozens of gold and silver necklaces; for every vehicle torn apart, ten vehicles of the latest models; and for every tree uprooted from the earth, dozens of mechanized orchards from the enemy’s own groves—a horizon that souls look forward to and work for, after witnessing the enemy’s ferocity and criminality.
If this victory is to come, deserving it does not happen through slogans alone; rather, it comes through patience, preserving people’s dignity, caring for the poor and displaced, protecting societal unity, transforming pain into construction, and turning sacrifices into a future. For indeed, victory is but an hour of patience.
The people of the South do not merely need someone to talk about their steadfastness; they need someone to feel their fatigue, protect their rights, reunite them before rebuilding their homes, and make the land for which they paid such a heavy price truly worthy of life.
For true victory is not merely reaching the land; it is stopping the enemy—who invaded our country in 1975 and swept through us in 1982—at its borders. No airport attacking us in the night, no drones fraying the nerves of our children, and no explosions startling young girls out of their modesty.
Source: https://mohammadabbaskawrani.com
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