Tuesday, August 27, 2024.
This week has been difficult. Ibtissam, my wife Sabah’s sister, was seriously injured. Her tent was set up in the Al-Mawassi area, which is near Rafah. The Israeli army designated it as a “humanitarian zone,” but that is false. There is no safe humanitarian zone in Gaza. Around four in the afternoon, a quadcopter appeared over the tent and began firing indiscriminately. These small drones with four rotors can explode on impact, but they can also carry grenades or a machine gun, and this one was equipped with the latter. Behind the drone is an operator who is often two or three kilometers away, targeting individuals as if they were playing a video game. This allows the Israeli army to claim “we were not there.” The operator loses all sense of humanity and feels no remorse. On his screen, he sees only virtual characters, while in reality, they are human lives.
Terrible conditions for the injured
The Israelis frequently employ this tactic. I have witnessed it firsthand. When we evacuated our apartment in Gaza City under orders from the Israeli army and waved white flags, we were still targeted by a quadcopter, which killed two of our neighbors. Ibtissam was gravely injured at the swimming pool. When the drone opened fire, she was outside the tent with her husband’s relatives, who had pitched their tents nearby. Ibtissam’s first instinct was to return to her tent, but the tent offered little protection, and she was struck indoors. Fortunately, she was close to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) field hospital. Her husband carried her there on his shoulders. She underwent a four-and-a-half-hour surgery. The surgeon, a Chinese national from Hong Kong, showed her husband the X-rays. He had to remove a significant portion of her intestines and colon to save her life.
This Tuesday, Ibtissam is scheduled for a second operation. The doctor states that her life is no longer in danger but that we must remain cautious. The issue, he added, is the follow-up: life in a tent does not provide suitable conditions for recovery. “There are many deaths,” he remarked, “due to wounds that become infected post-surgery, as a result of inadequate follow-up.” Families are doing everything they can to care for those who have undergone surgery, but with the current heat, the pervasive sand, the insects, and the flies, conditions are unbearable. Unfortunately, the field hospital of ICRC cannot keep patients for more than ten to fifteen days due to a lack of beds and the constant influx of injured individuals. I hope that Ibtissam will endure and recover swiftly. Everyone shares that hope. She is a wonderful woman, married, and a mother to seven children aged seven to eighteen. Her entire family loves her.
A kilo of tomatoes costs 100 euros
Another blow this week was the death of our neighbor, Moustafa El-Atbash. He was 22 years old and in his third year of veterinary medicine. Normally, he would have been in his fourth year, but the war caused him to lose a year. Moustafa was Ahmed’s cousin, who was killed when we left Gaza City for the south. He too was targeted by a quadcopter, as was our neighbor, Sana Al-Barbari, or Sana Al-Halis. May they both rest in peace.
Now, Moustafa is dead. He was at the Gaza port, a small fishing port located along the shore of Gaza City, with a few small boats that, prior to the war, were only allowed by the Israelis to venture three nautical miles (a little over 5 km) from the coast. If they exceeded this limit, the Israeli navy would open fire. At times, they permitted six nautical miles. This is nothing compared to the time when the Palestinian Authority was in control, when Gazan fishermen could go out 26 nautical miles (over 48 km) and sometimes even thirty (more than 55 km). But since this war began, everything is prohibited.
As you know, there is famine in Gaza City. There is hardly anything to eat, not even canned goods. A kilo of tomatoes, when available, costs 400 shekels, about 100 euros. The same goes for cucumbers. There is no meat, no chicken, and food aid has not arrived for almost four months. Famine is used as a weapon. Consequently, many people attempt to fish at the port, seeking a fish known here as bouri, or mullet in French. It can be a good fish when raised in clean environments or caught in open waters, but in the ports, they feed on sewer waste. Yet people have no choice, and many young individuals cast their lines, hoping to catch two or three bouri to feed their families.
“I will be the happiest man in the world”
Moustafa was one of those young people when a drone launched a missile at the fishermen. Seven individuals were killed, including him. This young man was the hope of his entire family, especially his father, Daoud. Daoud dreamed of the day he would hear his son called “doctor” and practice as a veterinarian. He longed for the day when he would proudly be known as “the father of the doctor.” That day will never come. Daoud told me: “I can’t wait for my son to graduate. I’ll be the happiest man in the world. I’ll open a veterinary clinic for him.” Veterinary medicine is not well represented in Gaza; we have a shortage of professionals in that field.
Daoud was incredibly proud of his son. But he has lost him, along with his dreams. I had assisted Moustafa in obtaining scholarships through my contacts at the university, as education is very expensive. Each time, Daoud would say: “There are only a few years left; time will pass quickly.” He was counting down the days until graduation.
I called Daoud when I learned of his son’s death. He told me:
Apparently, we are not allowed to dream here. Not only do the Israelis take away our children and loved ones, but they also crush our dreams. I can no longer dare to dream for my other children, fearing that I might lose them and those dreams as well.
Twenty-one evacuation orders during the month of August
Moustafa and Ibtissam are just two examples of the suffering endured by Palestinians. They report around 40,000 deaths, but Palestinians are not just numbers; they are men, women, and children, each with their own life, story, and aspirations. Yet, the Israelis do not permit us to live.
When Moustafa’s father expressed that he would no longer dare to dream, it broke my heart. I had shared that dream with him. It shattered because of the famine, forcing Moustafa to seek food for his family. He was killed by a war machine that makes no distinction between targets, even though the Israeli army is one of the most sophisticated in the world, possessing technology that could help prevent civilian casualties. Yet, they employ these drones to maximize deaths. When they bomb, their aim is similar; they seek to kill as many people as possible to elevate the cost of resistance. They wish to convey to Palestinians that if they pursue military resistance—legitimate under occupation—the price will be steep.
The people of Gaza have grasped this reality. They are fleeing from one place to another, trying to escape this war machine that pursues them relentlessly. Every day brings new evacuation orders. August alone has seen about 21, which is still ongoing. When I mention evacuation orders, I refer to thousands of individuals who must uproot themselves. And when I speak of moving, I mean dismantling tents, gathering belongings, and searching for trucks. This is an arduous task, as families are large, and everyone must gather before locating transportation. Often, when we must move urgently, we grab just a small mattress, a cushion, or a blanket as we flee into the street together.
I lose track of time
Children are carried by their parents, but parents do not know where to go. There is no safe place. Moreover, there is nowhere to rest. The last evacuation in Al-Qarara happened so fast. Tanks arrived immediately, and people scattered in all directions, unsure of where to go. Thousands spent the night on the streets and the beach, clutching small mattresses and pillows. Many endured that way for four days and nights. This area, referred to by the occupying army as “humanitarian,” has shrunk from 220 to just 35 square kilometers. Imagine 1.7 to 1.8 million people crammed into such a space.
It is a total humiliation; it truly is a slow death. Instead of dying from a single bomb or an instant blast, we perish slowly from exhaustion, fear, and broken hearts. We discover people who have passed away, but are unsure from what cause. A psychiatrist friend of mine once mentioned that such instability can indeed lead to death. This constant movement from one place to another can take its toll. The Israelis employ every psychological and military tactic, along with various humiliations, so that when the war concludes—if it ever does—there will be no more life remaining in Gaza, no more foundations of life, no more future. The people of Gaza are changing. We have traveled too far to a place devoid of hope.
For nearly a month, over a hundred journalists have taken advantage of our services, the internet connection, and electric charging facilities. Now, everyone is exhausted. This must come to an end. Everything unfolds before the world’s eyes, yet there is little genuine response. The Israelis enjoy total impunity. It is truly a lawless state. No one can say a word to the pampered child of the West. I hope that one day, all this will cease and that justice will prevail, not just in Gaza or Palestine, but across the globe.
Tuesday, August 27, 2024.
This week has been tough. Ibtissam, the sister of my wife Sabah, was seriously injured. Her tent was pitched in the Al-Mawassi area, which is close to Rafah. The Israeli army declared it a “humanitarian zone,” but that’s not true. There is no humanitarian security zone in Gaza. Around four in the afternoon, a quadcopter appeared above the tent and started shooting everywhere. These small drones with four rotors can explode on the ground, but they can also be equipped with grenades or a machine gun. That was the case for this one. Behind this drone, there is a person in front of a screen, often two or three kilometers away, aiming at people as if they were playing PlayStation or Xbox. This allows the Israeli army to say “we were not there.” The operator loses all humanity and feels no remorse. On his screen, there are only virtual characters, while they are human beings.
Terrible Conditions for the Wounded
The Israelis use this technique a lot. I have experienced it. When we left our apartment in Gaza City on orders from the Israeli army to wave white flags, we were still targeted by a quadcopter that killed two of our neighbors. Ibtissam was seriously injured at the top of the pool. When the drone started shooting, she was outside the tent with her husband’s relatives, who had set up their tents next to each other. Ibtissam’s first instinct was to go back into her tent, but it is only a piece of cloth, and she was hit inside. Fortunately, she was right next to the field hospital of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). Her husband carried her there on his shoulders. She underwent an operation that lasted four and a half hours. The surgeon, a Chinese from Hong Kong, showed her husband the X-rays. He had to remove a large part of her intestines and colon to save her.
This Tuesday, Ibtissam is scheduled for a second operation. The doctor says his life is no longer in danger, but that we must remain cautious. The problem, the doctor added, is the follow-up: life in the tent does not offer good conditions for a good recovery. “There are many deaths,” he added, “because of wounds that become infected after the operation, due to lack of adequate follow-up.” Families are doing everything they can to take care of those who have been operated on, but with the heat right now, the sand getting everywhere, the insects, the flies, the conditions are terrible. Unfortunately, the field hospital of ICRC cannot keep patients for more than ten or fifteen days, because it does not have enough beds, and the flow of wounded is incessant. I hope that Ibtissam will hold out and recover very quickly. Everyone hopes so. She is a lovely woman, married and the mother of seven children aged seven to eighteen. Everyone in the family loves her.
High Cost of Living Amidst War
The second thing that hurt me this week was the death of our neighbor, Moustafa El-Atbash. He was 22 years old and in his third year of veterinary medicine studies. Normally, he should have been in his fourth year, but the war had made him lose a year. Moustafa was Ahmed’s cousin, who was killed when we left Gaza City to go south. He too was targeted by a quadcopter, as well as a neighbor, Sana Al-Barbari or Sana Al-Halis. May they both rest in peace.
Now it is Mustafa who is dead. He was in the port of Gaza. It is a very small fishing port located on the shore of Gaza City, with a few small boats that, before the war, were only allowed by the Israelis to go three nautical miles (a little over 5 km) from the coast. If they exceeded this limit, they were shot at by the Israeli navy. Sometimes they allowed six nautical miles. This was nothing compared to the time of the Palestinian Authority, when Gazan fishermen were allowed 26 nautical miles (a little over 48 km), and sometimes thirty (more than 55 km). But since the beginning of this war, everything is forbidden.
Now, as you know, in Gaza City there is famine. There is nothing to eat, not even canned food. A kilo of tomatoes, when you can find them, costs 400 shekels, about 100 euros. Same for cucumbers. There is no meat, no chicken, and no food aid has come in for almost four months. Famine is used as a weapon. Many people therefore go fishing in the port, where you can find a fish that is called here bouri, Mullet in French. It is a good fish when it is raised in healthy places, or caught in the open sea, but in the ports, they eat the filth of the sewers. But the people have no choice, and many of them, especially the young ones, will cast their lines, with the hope of bringing back two or three bouri to feed their families.
Moustafa’s Tragic Loss
Moustafa was one of these young people, when a drone fired a missile at the fishermen. Seven people were killed, including him. This young man was the hope of an entire family, especially that of his father, Daoud. The latter dreamed of hearing his son be called “doctor” and practice the profession of doctor. He absolutely wanted that when the day came, he would be called “the father of the doctor”. The father of the doctor arrived. The father of the doctor is here. He told me: “I’m so looking forward to the moment when my son graduates. I’ll be the happiest man in the world. I’ll open a veterinary practice for him.” Veterinarian, it’s a sector that is not very well known in Gaza, we lack it.
Daoud was really proud of his son. But he lost him, and he lost his dream. I had helped Moustafa get scholarships through contacts at the university, because studies are very expensive. Every time, Daoud would tell me: “There are only a few years left to go, it will go by quickly.” He was counting down the days until graduation.
I called Daoud when I heard about his son’s death. He told me:
Apparently, we are not allowed to dream here. Not only do the Israelis deprive us of our children, our loved ones, but they also deprive us of our dreams. I will never dare to dream of something for my other children again, because I would be afraid of losing them, and of losing these dreams.
The Toll of Continuous Conflict
Mustafa and Ibtissam are just two examples of what the Palestinians are going through. They talk about 40,000 dead, but the Palestinians are not numbers; they are men, women, and children, each with their own life, their own story, and their own ambitions. But the Israelis do not let us live.
When Moustafa’s father said that he would no longer dare to live, to dream, it broke my heart. I had lived that dream with him. It ended because there was a famine and Moustafa was looking for something to eat for his family. He was killed by a war machine that makes no distinction between targets, while the Israeli army is one of the most sophisticated in the world; it has technology that could be used to avoid civilian deaths. But it uses these drones to kill as many people as possible. And when it bombs, it’s the same: the Israelis want to kill as many people as possible to raise the price to pay for resistance. They want to tell the Palestinians: if you seek military resistance – which is normally legitimate under occupation – the price to pay will be too high.
Evacuation Orders and Displacement
The people of Gaza have understood this. They are fleeing from one place to another in the face of this war machine that follows them everywhere. Every day there are new evacuation orders. There were about 21 during the month of August alone, which is not over yet. When I say evacuation orders, I am talking about thousands of people who have to move. And when I say move, I mean taking down the tent, taking their belongings, and looking for a truck. All this is very difficult because, in our country, families are large, and we have to gather everyone together before finding a truck. Sometimes, when we have to move really quickly, everyone takes just a small mattress, a cushion, a pillow, or a blanket. And everyone runs into the street, in the same direction, to flee.
Struggling for Survival
The children are carried by their parents. But the parents do not know where to go. There is no place that is already safe. And in any case, there is no place to rest, quite simply. The last time, when there was the evacuation of Al-Qarara, everything happened very quickly. The tanks arrived immediately. People were running in all directions, not knowing where to go. Thousands of people spent the night in the streets and on the beach, with only small mattresses and pillows. Many of them spent four days and four nights like this. This zone, called “humanitarian” by the occupying army, has shrunk from 220 to 35 square kilometers. Imagine 1.7 or 1.8 million people crammed into this zone.
It is total humiliation, it is really death. But instead of dying all at once, mown down by a bomb or something else, we are dying of exhaustion. We are dying of fear. We are dying because our hearts are broken. We find people who have died, but we don’t know from what. A psychiatrist friend told me that all this instability can cause death. This constant movement from one place to another can lead to death. The Israelis are using all the psychological and military techniques, in addition to all kinds of humiliation so that when the war ends – if it ever ends – all the inhabitants will leave Gaza because there will be no more life in Gaza, no more pillars of life and no more future. The Gazans are changing. We have come too far; we are where there is no more hope.
Relocating Amidst Crisis
A few days ago, we were forced to relocate the Press House, which we had rebuilt after its destruction in January or February; I lose track of time. We had found and equipped a new location, with electricity and Internet, thanks to the help of the Canadian government. Unfortunately, our new house was in the middle of a new zone to be evacuated. We took the risk of going back there anyway to salvage what we could, especially the solar panels, which were very expensive. We will try to find another place, even if there is no safe place, and reopen the Gaza Press House.
For almost a month, more than a hundred journalists have taken advantage of our services, the Internet connection, and the electricity to charge their phones, etc. Now, everyone is tired. All this has to stop. Everything is happening before the eyes of the world, and no one really reacts. The Israelis enjoy total impunity. It is truly an outlaw country. No one can say a word to the spoiled child of the West. I hope that one day all this will stop and justice will reign, not only in Gaza or Palestine, but all over the planet.
