“It is only because of my team and my friends that I am standing here today.
What I say will express my gratitude not only to him, but also to the Gazans whom I am privileged to meet. Those familiar with Gaza will understand what I mean. The Gaza that was before the unimaginable destruction…of which now only a faint memory remains.
Vague memories of the first few months of this brutal war include emotional farewell messages on the phone to friends who thought they would not survive the bombing until morning. These desperate messages were followed by a sudden silence, which was heartbreaking.
Mona’s words still move me, “If we don’t see each other again, remember, remember my son”. In the struggle for survival, people lost touch not only with each other and their families, but also with the outside world, who sought the latest information from social media and the news.
Mohammed’s daughter Sama was born on 31 October 2023 in Gaza City. Ambulances were in short supply at the time due to the large number of casualties in the bombings. In the midst of the attack, he somehow took his wife to the hospital. In the shadow of death, his wife gave birth to a daughter.
A few weeks later, my colleague’s 4-year-old daughter Salma was killed by Israeli gunfire while fleeing Gaza for safety. He died in his lap in the middle of the road. The pain is still evident on his face.
‘They’re shooting at us’
Earlier in the year, we lost contact with Hussain for a week while his family took refuge in a UN shelter. At that time, the place was surrounded by tanks and 40 thousand people were trapped inside.
The last message received from Hussain was: “They are firing at our compound.” Ambulances and emergency teams were not allowed inside. When they were finally contacted again, they were seen burying the bodies of the victims, including several children.
Some of the most profoundly affecting photographs of this war were taken by my colleague Abdullah. In February, Abdullah was attacked while filming in northern Gaza. On Saturday afternoon we got the news that he was killed in the attack. I remember so well that my breath stopped when I heard this.
But on Monday someone reported that Abdullah had been admitted to hospital – alive, but missing both his legs. Then contact with him was lost again for 14 days. Doctors at Al-Shifa Hospital continued to try to keep him alive despite the Israeli blockade. It was a miracle that after 4 days the UN team finally succeeded in reaching them.
Then came April. I was allowed to go to Gaza for the first time since the war started. I first went to Rafah Hospital, where they were trying to somehow keep Abdullah alive. What was the hospital – just a tent in the sand.
Doctors said that due to the lack of necessary equipment or further treatment drugs, he has only a few days left to live. Two of my colleagues immediately gave blood to keep him alive. Two long months after the attack, Abdullah was finally allowed out for treatment. This was just days before the Rafah checkpoint was permanently closed. Even today it is hard to believe that he managed to survive in these conditions.
In May, everything started to fall apart before our eyes. The joy of meeting Abdullah again and seeing him safe did not last long. Now the military operation has started again in Rafah. Chaos, panic and panic all around.
I was appalled that over a million people were forcibly displaced from a limited area in a matter of days. One of the first people to flee Rafah was Jamal, an acquaintance of mine. He followed evacuation instructions on leaflets dropped from the sky and brought his family to Deir al-Balah. But that same night, he was killed in an Israeli attack while sleeping with his family.
Is the world’s attention still focused on this?
Mohammed was one of the last to leave Rafah. An unspoken fear reflected in the seriousness of his face and he continued to ignore his surroundings for a long time. The gist of their every speech and conversation was the same – “If we go where will we go?”
Mohammed stayed until the day – the day an Israeli attack unearthed the decapitated torso of a child burned to death in a tent – a sight that made global headlines.
He also said that all our eyes are on Rafah. No one outside will know, but this scene is not just that night, but every night. But these scenes from people’s nightmares are often not shown in the media around the world. The screams of those burning children every night still echo in Mohammad’s mind.
If you have read this far you will understand why I am here in Gaza. You will understand why I put my life on hold. Instead of spending time having fun with my friends, I am constantly trying to spread the word about the horrific events that are a reality for Gazans today.
To the people, to convey the cries of the families who are pleading for our help, desperate for the release of their loved ones who have been imprisoned for months. Reports of corpses being left around checkpoints for dogs to eat, reports of children being hospitalized with missing limbs after attacks on ‘humanitarian zones’.
Death of Mona’s brother, death of Hussain’s daughter, death of Raja’s cousin. Can you keep up with this news? Because we are completely unable to do it. If you know your family is safe, consider yourself very lucky.
Journalists on the ground risk their lives every day to show the world the horrors that are destroying their friends, families and neighbors. Is the world still paying attention to this? Or people outside of Gaza are tired of hearing stories of children being killed in various ways: death in attacks, death under rubble, death from malnutrition, death from hospital bombings, death from incubators shut down due to power outages. Those children were alive, they were.
The whole society has now become a graveyard. But no one has time to mourn the dead, because they have to live. Food, water, healthcare, security – how ironic is it that another year is coming to an end and people are desperate for even basic necessities?
100 people are still being held hostage in Gaza and their families are desperately awaiting their return or news of their safety. More than 2 million people are trapped. They cannot run away. There is no way.
As far as I’m concerned, I’ll never forget the song sung on Baby Sama’s birthday, when we all bravely stood on the ground shaking the bombs and sang loudly to drown out the sound of the blast. Sama is now one year old. But that girl’s entire life may or may not be defined by the brutality of this war.”