In an Oceanside Town, a Woman Fights for Her Family's Survival in Gaza

You can see Rolla Alaydi’s tables almost every Sunday at Del Monte Beach in Monterey.

The tables are decorated with Palestinian flags that whip in the wind. There is a tray with little paper cups of coffee. Pins and stickers of Handala, a cartoon sketch of a young Palestinian boy, are for sale. So are keffiyehs, a Palestinian scarf.

The centerpiece is a long banner with an image of a young girl with downcast eyes. On the banner, a QR code to a GoFundMe titled, “My Family is Trapped in Gaza. Help Me Get Them Out.”

“I’m trying to keep hope and faith,” Alaydi told KQED last month. “I’m just having all the fear from the bombing, from the starvation, from the disease. They are still there, and every day is worse than the day before.”

According to the United Nations, more than 38,000 Palestinians have been killed and over 88,000 have been injured during the siege of Gaza. Nearly 2 million people — almost the entire population of Gaza — have been displaced.

The monthslong military assault began after the Oct. 7, 2023, attack in southern Israel by Hamas-led militants who killed roughly 1,200 people and took about 240 hostages, according to Israeli authorities. More than 100 hostages have been released or rescued.

Israeli forces have attacked aid workers and hospitals, exacerbating the humanitarian crisis that includes sickness and starvation. Israel’s bombardment has sparked protests demanding a cease-fire in the Bay Area and around the world.

Alaydi’s family — 21 people, including 13 children — is in a refugee camp near the Egyptian border. Their family home was destroyed during the Israeli bombings. As of earlier this month, nearly 60% of buildings in the Gaza Strip have been damaged or destroyed, according to Decentralized Damage Mapping Group, a network of researchers analyzing the destruction.

“If they are not killed by a missile, the starvation is hunting them,” Alaydi told KQED in February. “Death is chasing them.”

For the last nine months, Alaydi, a Palestinian American and Pacific Grove resident, has been working with lawyers to get her four younger brothers and their families out of Gaza as the Israeli bombardment continues. In the Bay Area, the Palestinian diaspora has been trying to navigate the complex, frustrating process of getting their loved ones across the Gaza-Egyptian border.

A network of volunteer lawyers assisting Palestinian Americans said Gazans need to get their name on a list to cross the border, which often requires the approval of the American, Israeli and Egyptian governments. In late April, Alaydi’s brothers were approved to cross on May 20. She flew to Cairo, Egypt, with a suitcase full of medicine, vitamins and chocolate for the children. 

When she was in Egypt, she met recently evacuated Gazans and listened to their stories. In their children’s faces, she saw her nephews and nieces like Alma, the girl on Alaydi’s GoFundMe banner. It would have been the first time Alaydi met some of her relatives. Now, she wonders if she will be lucky enough to see them outside of a phone screen.

Israel began its military offensive in Rafah, a city in the southern Gaza Strip, on May 6.

The Egyptian border was closed.

“I did all this hard work, and I was about to reach something to be accomplished, and then I was not successful at all,” Alaydi said. “I’m just devastated.”

On May 28, she had to leave her family behind in an unpredictable siege with escalating attacks on refugee camps. Recently, the International Court of Justice, the world court in The Hague that was first established in San Francisco in 1945, ruled that Israel’s settlement policies in the Palestinian territories violated international law. In the non-binding ruling, the court said Israel must pay reparations to Palestinians for lost property and income. In response, Israel claimed that the questions put to the court were prejudiced.

Alaydi said she has a hard time coping, especially in front of her teenage son.

“It’s just a heavy, heavy weight in your chest,” said Alaydi, a single mother. “You feel like a big rock sitting there. I cannot even cry in front of him because I don’t want him to hear me crying.”

Her respite from the heaviness is her Sundays at Del Monte Beach, where she displays Palestinian art and food, along with a book of her grandmother’s recipes and Barbie dolls dressed in traditional Palestinian clothing.

Alaydi said she started the display as an opportunity to connect with her community about Palestinian culture. Over time, a network of allies began showing up for her, some coming almost every Sunday. On the sidewalk next to Alaydi’s display, they hold up signs, chant and cheer for hours.

When supporters of former president Donald Trump started setting up next to Alaydi, a group named Veterans for Peace began showing up for Alaydi.

Some Monterey County residents have become confidants as Alaydi grieves.

“She would call me back, and she’s praying for me, giving me this support and the beautiful words that ease some of my stress,” Alaydi said of a friend she met at the beach. “We talk several times a day.”

On a Sunday in late June, a crowd of around 50 gathered. Some were sprawled on the grass, painting slogans supporting Palestine on cardboard. A Cal State Monterey Bay student, who is a regular attendee, paced with their poster while wearing a keffiyeh they bought from Alaydi. Their pet lizard was perched on their shoulder.

The pro-Palestinian people and a small group of Trump supporters exchanged harsh words. One woman in the Trump camp shoved a pro-Palestinian woman.

“Don’t touch me,” the woman snapped.

Alaydi attempted to diffuse the tension by offering Turkish coffee and slices of watermelon, a symbol of Palestinian solidarity. A male Trump supporter politely declined. The woman next to him shook her head — no — and refused to make eye contact with Alaydi.

Alaydi said she avoids getting sucked into debates about Palestine.

“I’m not here to talk any politics,” she said. “I’m just here to advocate for my family and tell the stories. And people here, they come to support and be in solidarity with Palestinians.”

Aida Nikraftar, who was born in Iran but recently relocated to Monterey County from the Toronto area, regularly comes with her husband and their young daughter.

“If (my daughter) asks me, ‘What did you do when an occupation was killing kids my age? What did you do in that genocide?’ I need to have something to say,” she said.

Some of the people who pass by also see themselves in Alaydi’s story, like Monterey County resident Moumita Ahmed. Ahmed expressed her support for Alaydi and talked about her family’s experience during Bangladesh’s war of independence from Pakistan.

Alaydi hugged her.

“I lost my grandfather. We don’t know what happened to him till this day,” Ahmed told KQED. “So when I see what’s happening to Palestine and the people there, I just feel kind of triggered. I can’t even explain how I feel because I literally feel like it’s my family that is dealing with that.”

Marina Aiwaz, a college student who returned to the states at the end of last year after working at the West Bank Jenin Refugee Camp, came to Alaydi’s tables after a shift as a caretaker.

“Whenever I see something come up — which is every day — that a Palestinian got killed in the West Bank, my heart drops. And I look for the word Jenin because that’s where most of my friends are,” she said.

Aiwaz, who was wearing scrubs, brought her own Palestinian flag, waving it as she marched on the street as drivers honked.

Alaydi said the community support is giving her the energy to keep going until the borders open again.

But she also admitted that she often feels numb.

“The truth is, I’m here. I’m shouting with people, I’m sharing the food, and my body is here,” Alaydi said. “But my mind is with my family in Gaza.”