June 30, 2024 – Gaza health authorities confirmed that the number of Palestinian casualties from the Israeli assault since October 7 stood at 37,877 dead and 86,969 injured. The majority of victims are women and children. Meanwhile, ambulances and rescue teams are still unable to reach the many injured and dead bodies trapped under rubble or scattered on the roads of the war-torn enclave, as Israeli occupying forces continue to hinder the movement of ambulances and civil defense teams – Photo: via Wafa
By Abdallah Al-Jazzar
As I met my friend Mohammed, a deafening explosion rocked us. The world collapsed around me. “Am I dead?” I asked Mohammed, clinging to his hand.
On October 15, I woke up to the horrific reality of heavy rocket strikes targeting my neighbor’s house.
Salah Zanoun, who holds a doctorate in accounting, lost his entire family. Their faces bore the mark of this tragedy as misfortune struck them together. I found myself among them, determined to inform the whole world of the harsh realities on the ground. This is my first-hand account of the recent Israeli aggression in Gaza.
It was 5am when Israel targeted Salah’s house. I felt a deep sadness and waited for daybreak to rush over and see what help I could provide. When I arrived, I saw the neighbours joining forces to clear the rubble.
My cousin Mahmoud, already there to help, informed me of the extent of the disaster. All of Salah’s family members were under the rubble, except for his 19-year-old daughter Aseel, who miraculously survived.
After an hour of tireless effort, we freed their lifeless bodies. Salah, his wife, his sons Ahmed, Sief, and Ihap, and his daughter Karima are gone forever. Witnessing the pain and loss was heartbreaking, and despite our collective strength, we were unable to ease the grief that hung in the air.
I went home and told my mother about the tragedy, my heart heavy with grief. She listened to me, her voice trembling, she replied, “I am here for you, but I, too, feel the fear and helplessness that hangs over our lives. This is Gaza, no one is safe there.”
In the midst of this crisis, I faced another battle – ensuring that my family’s basic needs were met. Providing food and maintaining our water supply, which costs 200 NSI (more than $50, the equivalent for me of a month’s savings) had become a formidable challenge.
I called dozens of people for help. While some did not respond or could not do so due to the breakdown of the telecommunications network, a few were able to provide assistance. In particular, my uncle Waleed, who himself lives in modest conditions, offered to fill our water tanks.
It was a reminder that family support is invaluable.
Although relieved by the help provided by my uncle, I remained demoralized because I was unable to provide for my family.
That same fateful day, October 15th at 5pm, I went to Rafah to get food from my close friend Mohammed. When we met again, we were jolted by a deafening explosion nearby. The world collapsed around me, and I clutched Mohammed in fear. Dust and smoke obscured the sky.
“Am I dead?” I asked Mohammed, clutching his hand. The panic and confusion were palpable. A little later, we learned that Israel had targeted the Women’s Christian Association, near where we were. I was in immense shock. I pleaded with Mohammed, “We have to find Alaa (our friend Alaa lives in this area) and make sure he’s okay.”
Mohammed and I ventured there, just 50 metres from the blast site. We found the Women’s Christian Association in ruins, and Alaa’s house had been devastated.
His family had suffered the full brunt of the attack – his father Arafat Tartori, his brothers Yaser and Abdallah, and his cousin Mohammed had all lost their lives. Alaa himself was injured, as was his sister. I could not hold back my tears, there was nothing else I could do.
I returned home, the weight of these painful images engraved in my memory, a memory that will haunt me for the rest of my life. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of our existence in Gaza.
But it was not only Alaa’s house that was destroyed, other houses in the neighborhood were not spared – those of Jaber, Alsadawi, Alfraa, Hijazai, and Alrekai. What hurt me the most was that I considered these families as friends.
On the way back, I received a message from my brother – our house in the eastern part of Gaza had suffered significant damage from heavy bombing. It was another blow. The dream of getting married there had vanished in the blink of an eye.
As we face these ongoing challenges, I implore you to pray for the people of Gaza. We are exhausted; our future is uncertain, but even in the midst of devastation, we remain searching for hope.
October 17, 2023 – Mondoweiss – Translation: Chronicle of Palestine – MJB
