The university I dreamed of joining exists now only in my dreams

All I want is to continue my studies — living in Gaza makes that virtually impossible, writes Gazan student Ahmad Abu Daqqa

A man rides his bicycle past the al-Aqsa University, levelled by Israeli bombardment in Gaza City on February 15, 2024. Picture: AFP via Getty Images

Every morning, I leave my tent.

I do not leave to go to class, to a library, or to a campus. I leave to find a wall to lean against, a hospital corridor, a charity kitchen, or anywhere that might have electricity and a wifi signal. Because I am a student, and I refuse to stop being one.

My name is Ahmad Zohair Abu Daqqa, and I am one of Gaza's most determined young minds. I hold a GPA of 96.7. I have reached English proficiency Level 13 at Amideast. During the war, while displaced, while hungry, while grieving, I completed more than 15 professional courses, including MicroMasters-level certifications. 

Beyond academics, I am a senior graphic designer. I have a creative portfolio built through passion and self-driven projects, not just coursework. My CV is documented, verified, and ready. All I need is an open door.

A life built for learning, lived in ruins 

My home was destroyed in the first days of the war. Since then, I have been displaced more than five times. I live in a tent. There is no running water, no electricity, no desk, no quiet corner. 

The university campus I was supposed to walk to every day, the classrooms, the labs, the student housing, the conferences and competitions I dreamed of joining, now exist only in my imagination.

I grieve for what education in Gaza has become. The universities have been bombed to rubble. What remains are broken walls and dust. There are no classrooms to go to, no labs, no libraries. 

There are no roads, no transport, not even a notebook or a pen. The entire infrastructure of learning has been wiped out. And I grieve for the people. I have lost fellow students who were dreaming what I was dreaming.

Yet every day, I walk. I walk risking my life searching for a signal, searching for a socket, searching for one more hour of learning. Some days, that search ends in the corner of a half-collapsed building, others in a hospital kitchen, or huddled beside a broken streetlight pole, anywhere a weak signal might reach. 

None of these places were safe. I was often told to leave, sometimes more than once in the same day, but I always went looking for the next one, because losing that connection meant losing my only link to the world. 

And through all of this, the search was never just for me, I was also carrying real responsibility for my family during our displacement, so every hour spent chasing a connection was an hour taken from everything else they needed from me too. I have sent over 1,000 messages, more than 100 emails, and reached out to over 100 academics worldwide. I have done everything within my power to move forward.

When I wrote the first draft of this article, no door had opened. Since then, the University of Glasgow has offered me a final, unconditional place to study there, my dream come true. 

Ahmad Abu Daqqa: 'There are many Gazan students who have received offers of scholarships to attend Irish universities but who have been turned down at the last hurdle — the Irish visa process.'

The only obstacle standing between me and starting this new chapter is funding. I am now searching for a scholarship or sponsor to cover my tuition, fees, and visa costs, and to make my evacuation from Gaza possible, so I can finally reach Glasgow and begin the life I have fought so hard for.

But this is the story of an entire generation.

Gaza has thousands of students like me, young people with strong grades, real skills, documented qualifications, and an unbreakable will to build something. 

We did not stop learning when the bombs fell. We did not give up when our universities turned to rubble. We kept going, with whatever we had, wherever we could find a signal.

We have the grades, the skills, the certifications, the English proficiency, and a solid portfolio. What we need is for an institution, a university, or an organisation, to match that dedication by providing a scholarship, an acceptance letter, and the vital support for evacuation. 

There are many Gazan students who have received offers of scholarships to attend Irish universities but who have been turned down at the last hurdle — the Irish visa process.

The Catholic tradition has always held education is not a privilege; it is a right. The dignity of the human person demands that we do not waste talent because of geography or war. We are not victims waiting to be saved. We are young people who have done everything right, and we are still here, still learning, still waiting for the world to meet us halfway.

A vision beyond survival 

The future still feels distant when you're just trying to get through each day. But when I let myself imagine it, if I get to leave Gaza, I'd want to work on building something that was never there for me, real access to education and skills, at a high level, for people in Gaza and other places where resources are simply not there. 

I've loved learning since I was young, and that never changed, even through all of this. I don't want other people from Gaza to experience this isolation, the closed doors, the feeling that opportunities just aren't meant for people like us.

If you are a person of influence in education, please, think of the Gazan student with no university left to attend.

If you cannot act directly, share this story. Amplify my voice. One share could reach the person who finally opens that door, for a generation of talented, determined students in Gaza who are still waiting for their chance.

We have done our part. Now it is the world's turn.