“What affected us a lot psychologically is the fact that we were all praying in the mosque when we were attacked. The mosque is a place where we go when we need relief or when we are sad. We could never imagine them targeting us while we are praying in the mosque.”

Brothers Motee’ (49) and Isma’il (53) as-Selawy in front of al-Maqadma mosque (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)

On 3 January 2009, at around 17:20, during prayer time, an Israeli drone fired a missile at the western entrance of al-Maqadma mosque in Jabaliya refugee camp. In the attack, 15 worshipers were killed and hundreds were injured.

“In every prayer I remember what happened in the mosque that day. I remember where I saw dismembered arms, legs and other body parts lying on the floor. I can still see our relatives and friends scattered around the praying room”, says sheikh Motee’ as-Selawy (49) as he puts his head in his hands. He was standing on the sheikh’s podium delivering a speech to the worshipers as the missile hit the entrance. “I had a direct line of sight to the door of the mosque and I saw pieces of red shrapnel flying towards us through the doorway,” he recalls.

The extended as-Selawy family, who live together in one big house opposite the mosque, lost five of its members, all of whom were praying in the mosque when it was attacked: Ahmad Isma’il (22), Mohammed Mousa Isma’il (12), Ibrahim Mousa Aissa (44), Hani Mohammed (8), and ‘Omar Abdel Hafez as-Selawy (27).

Motee’s brother, Ismai’l Mousa as-Selawy (53), lost his oldest son, Ahmad Isma’il, in the attack. “I cry every day for my son. I have been suffering a lot over the past three years. He was everything for our family. I visit the grave of my son once or twice a week at least. I remember him in every moment, whether I am at home, in the mosque or somewhere else”, says Isma’il.

“We miss our killed relatives on all occasions. Our family lives in the same building and we used to have a lot of fun together. Now we visit their graves”, adds Motee’.

Six members of the as-Selawy family were injured in the attack and several of them continue to physically suffer from shrapnel that remains embedded in their bodies. “I still have shrapnel in my right wrist and it gives me problems until now. Doctors in Gaza said a surgery to remove the shrapnel might to do more harm than good. I feel constant tingling and my right hand is weak. I can’t carry anything with it,” says Motee’. Another relative, Mohammed Khalil es-Selawy (14), has shrapnel embedded in his head, which caused him to lose his hearing requiring him to wear hearing aids. Brothers Abdel Karim Mohammad as-Selawy (12) and Maher Mohammed as-Selawy (13) also have to learn how to live with shrapnel embedded in their bodies; Abdel Karim has fragments in his shoulder while Maher has pieces in his liver. Tamer Khalil (22) and Mousa Isma’il (23) as-Selawy were also injured by shrapnel in their backs but doctors were able to remove the metal parts from their bodies.

“What affected us a lot psychologically is the fact that we were all praying in the mosque when we were attacked. The mosque is a place where we go when we need relief or when we are sad. We could never imagine them targeting us while we are praying in the mosque. That is a big crime,” says Motee’. The grandfather of the family, Mousa ‘Issa Mohammad es-Selawy (93), adds; “the mosque is the house of god. There are no soldiers or weapons in the house. Everyone comes to pray there and enjoy being there. How could they target it like that?”

Motee’ recalls, “Goldstone came to visit us in our house and went to the mosque with us to investigate. I asked him; ‘where do you go when you feel sad and tired?’ He said, ‘I go to a place for prayer.’ I asked him, ‘what if you were bombed there?’ Goldstone said; ‘I cannot imagine it. Such a crime should be punished.’ Now Goldstone now apologized for his report and we have not seen any results of the ground.”

Since the attack the as-Selawy is not only mourning the loss of its relatives. The family members are also struggling financially as three of their deceased relatives used to provide for a vital part of the family income. Ibrahim left behind 9 daughters, who still live at home. “Who will take care of them now?” asks Motee’. ‘Omar Abdel Hafez had 4 daughters and one son. Until the day of his death he earned the family income working as a cameraman with a local TV channel. Ismai’il’s son, Ahmad, was the father of two children, Mohammed (5) and Nisreen (3.5), and used to work as a tailor.

“My concerns now are mainly focused on my grandchildren, Mohammed and Nisreen, and how I can bring them up. I want to give them a future but I am too sick too work. My health was badly affected by the attack and the loss of my son”, says Isma’il, who suffers from severe migraine and stomach problems. “I try to take care of them as much as possible, but I will not be here forever”.

The as-Selawy’s tries to deal with the financial difficulties by themselves as much as possible. “We have our dignity but we are forced sometimes to receive aid from people because we need to live” says Motee’. “Besides prosecution of the perpetrators, we need financial compensation to deal with our current situation.”

The family has little expectations regarding the outcome of legal proceedings within the Israeli legal system. “The Israelis are prolonging the court proceedings and we don’t see any positive results. We may have hopes if our case is taken to an international court,” says Motee’.

PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on behalf of the as-Selawy family on 2 July 2009. To-date, no response has been received.

The series of narratives:

2 January 2009: Eyad al-Astal
1 January 2009: The Nasla family
31 December 2008: The Abu Areeda family
30 December 2008: The Hamdan family
29 December 2008: Balousha family
28 December 2008: The Abu Taima family
27 December 2008: The Al Ashi family

“I miss them all the time, sometimes I even go to look for one of them in the house in the split second before I remember they were killed”

Anwar Balousha and son Muhammed (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)

At around 00:00 on the 29 December 2008 an Israeli aircraft attacked the Imad Akel Mosque situated in Jabaliya refugee camp. The attack destroyed the home of Anwar and Samira Balousha, which was situated just three metres from the mosque. Five of the family’s eight daughters were killed as a result of the bombing, which caused the family home to collapse on top of them as they slept. Five others were injured in the incident and other homes in close proximity to the mosque were completely destroyed.

In the main room of the reconstructed Balousha family household stands a portrait of the family’s five deceased daughters Tahreer, Ikram, Samar, Dina and Jawaher who were 18, 15, 13, 8 and  4 respectively at the time an Israeli F-16 dropped a bomb on the Imad Akel Mosque, 3 metres from the family home. The family have since had one new comer to the home, Tahrir (named after her deceased sister); but for father Anwar “the home still feels empty, it is like there is gaping hole where my daughters once were, and despite feeling their presence with us all the time there is a huge sense there is something missing”.

While his face and composure gives little away in terms of the suffering his family has gone through, Anwar’s words are clear regarding the effect the incident had on himself and his family. “My wife has been badly affected, just yesterday there was an UNRWA crew demolishing the wreckage of one the neighbours’ homes destroyed in the war to make room for its reconstruction, it reminded Samira of the war and she started to cry”. Anwar himself says he spends a lot of time at the daughter’s graves talking to them about daily life’s small comings and goings, “I miss them all the time, sometimes I even go to look for one of them in the house in the split second before I remember they were killed”.

The families remaining children have been traumatised. Anwar describes how Iman, 20, who had a very close relationship with her older sister, Tahrir, and who watched her sister Dina die in her arms following the attack, seems often to be lost in her own thoughts; “sometimes I call her but she cannot even hear me” says Anwar. Despite being very intelligent Iman’s grades have suffered as a result. He also fears that his son, Muhammad, who was recently treated for a shrapnel wound in his foot, suffered during the attack, will grow up wracked by feelings of revenge for the death of his sisters. “He speaks of them constantly”, says Anwar, “he will not forget”. When asked by his father about his sisters, Muhammad says that “my sisters were murdered by the Israeli’s, they are in Paradise”.

The three years since the attack has been a period of constant flux and displacement for the family. They have had to move home seven times in the past three years, each time creating a greater sense of instability for the family’s remaining children. “The children find themselves friendless each time they move area”, says Anwar, “my son Muhammad wanders off back to the neighbourhood of his old homes or to the local UNRWA school in search of friends, we can’t find him for hours and when he eventually comes home he says he went to find friends to play with”.  They have only recently returned to their rebuilt home that was destroyed during the attack.

Regarding hopes and fears for the future Anwar has mixed feelings. He is hopeful for the family’s legal case in Israel but he says “if they bring me all the money in the world they could not compensate me, I want my daughters, not money”. He is ravaged by fear for his children every time there is bombing and fears that he will lose them in the future. “Though this is my home I am seeking a future outside Gaza, right now I want to leave to make a new life for me and my family”.

PCHR submitted a criminal complaint on behalf of the Balousha Family on 2 August 2009. To-date, no response has been received.

The series of narratives:

28 December 2008: The Abu Taima family
27 December 2008: The Al Ashi family

Muhammed Salman Abu Rashad, 45, Amna Abu Rashad, 31, and their nine children live in the Jabalia refugee camp, one of the most densely populated areas on earth. The family represent just 11 of the 1.1 million refugees who make up the vast majority of Gaza’s population of approximately 1.7 million people.

According to the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), Jabalia is the largest of Gaza’s eight refugee camps and is home to around 110,000 registered refugees in an area of only 1.4 square kilometres; unsurprisingly, the camp is infamous  for its overcrowding.  Israel’s illegal closure policy, first used to isolate the Gaza Strip in 1991, has been particularly devastating on the residents of Jabalia camp, who, like Muhammed Abu Rashad, previously relied on jobs within Israel to support their families. Since the beginning of the complete closure of Gaza in 2007, the now-unemployed residents have been forced to rely on UNRWA aid to survive.

The Abu Rashad’s home, consisting largely of a 3 meter by 3 meter room, is typical of many homes in Jabalia camp. A single room acts as the sleeping, living, studying and eating area for all eleven family members. With winter approaching, it is obvious that the house, which displays long winding cracks along its walls and an open doorway where there should be a functioning door, is entirely inadequate for the couple and their nine children, with a tenth on the way. When the rain comes it flows into the house and onto their blankets, and despite the fact it is a crisp dry day outside, the damp in the room is particularly noticeable. Muhammad is quick to point out that the conditions would be better in prison: “it is not a home but a cemetery”.

The crowding affect’s all aspects of family life, but for the couple’s 9 children the effect is crippling. A majority of the family’s children study during the evening shift in the local UNRWA school, which is forced to run double shifts to facilitate all the camp’s students. When the children return home it is dark and, given the constant power cuts, lack of space, and loud noise from electrical generators the children are unable to study. As a result, two of the Abu Rashad children have failed a year in school and been kept back.

With a lack of space to play – either in the home or in the tight, rubbish strewn, alleyways outside – the children have little physical or emotional space and tend to lash out against each other as a result. The boys resort to violence against their younger siblings and Muhammed tells me that his two daughters are unable “to behave like young girls”, instead imitating their brothers violence in an attempt to “hold their own”. Muhammed himself regrets lashing out at his children when they misbehave, saying that the stress of living in such close quarters leaves him anxious and prone to outbursts.

The crowding has repercussions not only on the family’s mental health but also their physical health. Greeting the children it is obvious they are all suffering from colds and flu. Muhammed says that “when one child comes down with an illness, with no space to isolate and treat them, the rest of the children are all rapidly infected”. Given the constant damp and cold getting the children well again once they become sick is no easy task.

While the crowding has left the family at crisis point, the situation is only getting worse. The children are currently young, the eldest being 15, but as they grow older the tiny room will become progressively more cramped. The eldest daughter Sundus, 10, will soon be too old to sleep next to her brothers. Muhammad tells us that with the neighbours building on top of their current houses in an attempt to alleviate their own crowding problems, the sun will soon be blocked entirely from the already dank family home. The result, according to Muhammad, will be “the families’ destruction”.

The Palestinian refugee crisis is one of the largest and most longstanding refugee problems in the world; today approximately one in four of the entire world’s refugee’s are Palestinian. The rights of Palestinian refugees, and in particular the ‘right of return’, are protected in numerous UN Resolutions, including UN Security Council Resolution 194. However, for as long as the international community refuses to enforce international law, these resolutions will continue to bear little relevance for the Gaza Strip’s refugees, whose fundamental human rights continue to be systematically denied.

6 November 2011 | Palestine from My Eyes
The day before the start of Al-Adha Eid is the day of Arafa. It is said that a believer who fasts on this day expiates the past year’s sins and the sins of the coming year. As it is considered to be a day of forgiveness from sin, many Palestinians fasted yesterday. Despite me fasting, I eagerly accepted the offer of my friend, a solidarity activist from Holland, to have a walk in Jabalia Camp. Approximately 108,000 registered refugees live in the camp, which covers an area of only 1.4 square kilometres.

I passed by the Jabalia market, which was so crowded that one has to keep pushing people out of his way in order for him to pass through. With every step forward I could glimpse many faces of different ages, genders, and features. I could see children jumping around from one stand of clothes to another, excited to pick their new outfits. At the same time, other children seized the opportunity of this unusually large crowd. They were carrying heavy boxes containing simple goods, trying to earn some money so that they could help their poor families have sort of happy atmosphere, to at least buy some candies.

I could see faces full of anger because of the high prices of goods, which result from the siege which has been illegally imposed since 2007. Parents would spend hours going around to every stand, searching for the cheapest clothing to buy for their children, who still innocently think that Eid means having new clothes. Yesterday, I could see how the inhabitants of Jabalia Camp, who are mostly refugees, face obstacles like low income, shortages of goods, and high prices for the available ones.  They are desperate for happiness, even if it’s always missing something: the feeling of freedom, security and independence.

Today, 6 November, 2011, Gaza has welcomed Al-Adha Eid. Hymns played as the sun dawned. I could hear children and men gathering around the microphone in the mosque right behind our house, singing continuously and happily in one voice, “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…” I couldn’t help but wake up earlier than I always do, and more energetic than ever, excited for what would come next.

My mother said that the door has been knocked on constantly since the early morning by people with Eid greetings. Some of them could afford to buy sacrificed animals, “Uḍhiyyah”, and hand out a slice of meat.

Eid is a very special religious holiday, as it reconnects people with each other, strengthens social life, and reminds the rich of people who are in need. In Palestine, Eid exceeds its conventional frame. It’s a festival of tolerance, forgiveness, compassion, and thoughts of the people who are missed in prison, in Diaspora, or in the grave. My father and his brothers, for example, visit the families of martyrs and prisoners in the neighborhood.

On the second day of Eid, there will be a demonstration in solidarity with our detainees in the Red Cross to convey that their spirits live among us, and that they are never forgotten. We will also show sympathy with the mothers who waited many long years, hoping for their sons’ freedom, who passed away before they could celebrate their release. Tomorrow will be a day of support for our heroes inside the merciless Israeli bars, encouraging them to stay steadfast, as well as a day of compassion for their families, who have passed through several important holidays with one, or in some cases more than one missing, making their happiness incomplete, to help them stay strong and optimistic.

I feel blessed for having all the people I care about around me. At the same time, I feel like I can’t enjoy my happiness at its fullest while thousands of people in Palestine can’t feel this blessing.

I’ve been constantly thinking about Gomana Abu Jazar today. Gomana is a ten-year-old girl whose mother died after she delivered her, and whose father has been imprisoned since she was less than two years old, leaving her uncle to look after her. Once, as she wondered why all children have fathers but her, her uncle said, “I’ll be in your father’s place until he is free. You’re lucky, since you have two fathers instead of one.” So she started calling her uncle “dad” for a whole year, until he was killed by the Israeli Occupation Forces, leaving her with none. As she returned from school one day, she saw a huge funeral in front of her house, and asked, “Whose big funeral is this?” Her neighbors’ children answered, “It’s your uncle’s”. She began screaming, denying it and saying, “Impossible! He accompanied me to school this morning.” Now she lives with her 70-year-old grandmother.

I called Gomana to greet her for Eid. After a long chat, I asked her, “What’s your wish for this Eid?” “I wish Dad was here,” she replied in a sad voice. “I wish they would at least allow me to see him once in lifetime. I only know Dad from his photographs. I wish I could see him in reality. Once I thought this dream was very close to coming true, but then I realized that I was prevented from seeing him for security reasons.”

How can Palestinians fully enjoy our happiness while these heartbreaking stories are so very common in their daily lives? I hope next year the happiness of Eid and other occasions will be complete, with the Israeli jails emptied and Palestine independent and free. Insha’Allah.

Early in the morning of Saturday the 4^th of April, two Palestinian resistance fighters (Mohamed Hamayda 23, Jammel Gofa, 26) were wounded near the Green Line, east of Jabaliya. Ambulances from the Palestinian Red Crescent Society made a first attempt to reach the two injured Palestinians shortly after 7am, when, according to medical sources, they were still alive. But the paramedics were prevented from accomplishing their humanitarian mission because of heavy Israeli shelling. Firing against civilians and ambulances and preventing injured people from accessing medical treatment are serious violations of international humanitarian law.

Finally, after 11am, the ambulance was allowed to approach the area. It was almost 12pm when the ambulance returned with the dead bodies of the two fighters.

According to medical sources, when the fighters were found, their weapons and some personal belongings were missing and they had a lot of injuries by gunfire, something that indicates that Israeli troops may have reached them . Many Palestinians are suspicious that they might have been extra judicially executed while they were lying injured, but still alive. Although this for the moment is just an assumption, if it did in fact happen it would be just another example of severe violations of international law on the part of Israeli forces.

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]]> http://palsolidarity.org/2009/04/israeli-forces-fire-shells-towards-ambulance-prevent-transfer-of-injured-palestinian-fighters-to-hospital/feed/ 0 http://palsolidarity.org/2009/02/nlg-members-in-gaza-document-executions-of-civilians-blocking-of-humanitarian-aid-and-destruction-of-civil-property/ http://palsolidarity.org/2009/02/nlg-members-in-gaza-document-executions-of-civilians-blocking-of-humanitarian-aid-and-destruction-of-civil-property/#comments Thu, 05 Feb 2009 03:48:33 +0000 admin http://palsolidarity.org/?p=5159 National Lawyers Guild

For Immediate Release—February 5, 2009

Contact: Paige Cram, NLG Communications Coordinator, 212-679-5100, ext.15

Gaza—On its second day in Gaza, the National Lawyers Guild (NLG) delegation witnessed the rubble of the American International School in Gaza. An Israeli aerial attack killed the watch guard on duty and completely demolished the school at 2am on January 3, 2009.

“Israel doesn’t want anything good or bright in Gaza. They want us to live in the dark ages, just waiting in line for gas and bread,” said Ribhi Salem the school’s Director, who previously spent 20 years living and teaching in Chicago. Salem noted that the school is modeled on American schools and teaches “American values.” Because of that, he said, the school has been attacked on two previous occasions by local extremists since it opened in 2000.

The American school was only one of thousands of buildings destroyed in the recent Israeli offensive. Guild delegates were alarmed at the indiscriminate attacks against civilian neighborhoods, which left thousands of Gaza’s residents homeless and living in UN-provided tents. Israeli forces also targeted local businesses, including a tahini and sweet factory in Jabaliyya, leaving the poverty-stricken population more aid dependant.

John Ging, Director of United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), told the delegation that although the need is much greater now because of the war, less food aid is getting in now than before the war. “Nine hundred thousand people need food aid now but on the amount of food we are receiving we can feed only 30,000 each day,” he said. “Thousands of tons of aid are piling up in Al Arish in Egypt and Ashdod Port in Israel,” said Ging. “People need food and blankets. . . its been two weeks and two days [since the ceasefire] and we can’t get enough food into Gaza . . . where’s the accountability?”

The seven delegates also witnessed the remains of the entire residential neighborhood of Izbit Abed Rabbo. Resident Khaled Abed Rabbo told delegates Huwaida Arraf and Radhika Sainath how he witnessed an Israeli soldier execute his 2 year-old and 7 year-old daughters, on a sunny afternoon outside his house there. Two other Israeli soldiers were standing nearby eating chips and chocolates at the time on January 7, 2009. “I will never eat chocolate again,” said Abed Rabbo, who was formerly employed by the Fateh-led Palestinian authority. His third daughter, Samar, was also shot and paralyzed by the same Israeli soldier. Samar, 4 years old, is currently hospitalized for treatment in Belgium.

Founded in 1937, the National Lawyers Guild is the oldest and largest public interest/human rights bar organization in the United States. Its headquarters are in New York and it has chapters in every state.

Baby H, out of the basement, with his uncle who lost both legs in past attack

This morning is the second that I woke to quietness; no shelling from the sea. E and I went today to see our Jabalia friends, F’s family. They are back in their house, one of the few standing in their neighborhood of Azbet Abed Rabbo. This is only the case because their fears were realized – it was again occupied by the army during the land incursion. However by this time they had left and gone to relatives elsewhere. Israeli soldiers don’t clean up after themselves so the family has been cleaning for a week solid – without running water.

It was so good to be able to sit in the sun with them and drink tea and watch the children playing in the garden. I’d not seen the children in a state other than fear, nor in a location other than the basement. Abu Nasser (the husband of Sara who was killed in the first attack as she was out looking for bread) came through the whole thing ok despite refusing to leave the neighborhood when the rest of the family did. He has been ill, not surprisingly, and was feeling chilly despite the sun. He described immediately coming back to the house as soon as he thought it was possible, and watching the Israeli soldiers dancing as they left. He always reminds me of a wiry old fisherman, with a white beard, bright eyes, and a woolly hat on. He says, and apparently other Palestinians in their 80s agree, that these attacks have been worse than anything they ever saw before. This is the fourth attack on the Jabalia area in three years.

Red Crescent Jabalia

On the way there we dropped into the Jabalia Red Crescent centre that we had to evacuate on the first night of the ground incursion; one room is burnt out, it has a lot of holes in, and the windows are all broken, but it could be worse. All the RC guys were there working hard to clear up. Even Hassan was there, limping and sound a bit shell-shocked still.

H took us around a part of the Azbet area I didn’t see the other day, and we recorded some more stories. We begin with Ayman Torban’s house, where he and his brother’s family lived, a total of 17 people. I was immediately intrigued because under the rubble was a paper on midwifery in Palestine (I have a degree place for this in Sept 09) and I spotted more crumpled midwifery books. It turned out this was an extensive medical and science library put together by his sister Amel, who did her midwifery masters in London, and taught here in Gaza, but now lives in Dubai.

We sat in the flimsy shelter Ayman has constructed beside his house and heard what happened. He told us this house was first shelled on January 4, when only the women and children were there. (In many cases the men feel their families are safer without them because of the Israeli army’s tendency to treat all men as militants.) It was attacked with 2 Apache helicopters and 5 tank shells.

Ayman rescues Amal's books

Two days later the relatives realized everyone in the basement was still alive, and one of the women went to tell them it might be ok to come out. First she brought out the children, and three tanks came to confront them. But she went back, waited with the women inside for 2 hours, and then they all came out and reached safety.

Two days later the army went into the house and laid mines which collapsed it completely. This was the pattern for most Jabalia houses, which appears to be why the devastation is so complete. A young man sitting with us said “before these attacks I wanted to travel. But now I want to stay in our land. Who will protect it if we all leave?”

Next to the Turban house are the Badwan and Ayoub houses. Maher Badwan (who had taken most of the family to his cousin’s house), told us that Mousba Ayoub fled his own house and went to the Badwan house, where he hid with Maher’s mother in the kitchen while the house was hit with tanks shells and phosphorous. Both died, Maher’s mother survived a short time but no ambulance was able to reach her. The army then planted mines in the house (black crosses on the pillars to mark the best place for them are still visible) and collapsed it with the bodies still inside.

Mahmoud Abd Rabbu & his house

Mahoud Abed Rabbu lived in a 3 floor, six apartment building. On January 6 it came under shell attack from 10.30. At 2pm during the 1-4pm “ceasefire”, the army dynamited a wall open and told Mahoud and his family “leave here, go into the town, we’ll kill you if you return.” Everybody walked towards Jabalia center, until they reached a mosque, when other soldiers took all the men – about 60 of them – and put them in an animal shelter. Women and children were allowed to leave.

They took the ID of the men, made them strip, and then used them as human shields as they continued to dynamite houses open and enter them. Finally the army released the men about 10pm (again saying not to come back or the army would kill them) except for 10 who they arrested and who are believed to still be held in the Israeli Naqab prison.

His neighbor Khalid Abed Rabbu told us that on the same day, three tanks surrounded his house and the soldiers shouted at him to get out. He went outside with his wife, children, and mother, carrying a white flag. He remembers noticing that two of the soldiers in the tanks were eating chocolate. A third solider got out of the tank, and opened fire on the family with an M16. Khalid tried to take his family back into the house, but his daughters, Soad aged 7 and Armir aged 2, were killed. His mother received bullets in her arm and stomach. His 4 year old daughter Samir was hit with 3 bullets and was evacuated to an intensive care in Belgium; if she survives she will be paralyzed.

A few minutes away, his ambulance driver neighbor Samir Hassheikh heard his call for help and tried to bring the ambulance to them, but tanks stopped him. The army later destroyed the ambulance along with Samir’s house. After two hours Khalid managed to bring his injured mother and daughter to a point another ambulance could reach. E remembers bringing in Khalid’s mother while she was on duty with the Jabalia Red Crescent. The sadness on Khalid’s face as he told us his story, sitting beside the rubble of his home, has stayed with me. I couldn’t bring myself to ask to take his photo.

As we were walking the Azbet neighborhood, I got a text from V: “Israel radio says right now that they are ready to attack again today. Take care.” Wordlessly, I showed it to E. It took a while before we could face asking H if he knew anything. He said there had been something on the radio but everyone hoped it was just a rumor.

More images

Earlier this week, following the withdrawal of Israeli troops from the Gaza Strip, residents returned to some of the areas which had become no-go zones during the attacks, such as Jabalia just outside Gaza City. On Tuesday 20th January, ISM Gaza Strip volunteers joined a university professor as he visited his house in the east of Jabalia. We were shown from room to room around the bombed-out shell of what had once been a beautiful home. When asked if he and his family would continue to live there, he replied calmly that it was their right to and that they would never leave their land.

As we made our way up the hill through the orange grove beyond the professor’s house, we encountered evidence of where tanks had been positioned – churned up ground, tank tracks, uprooted olive trees. At the top of the hill, from where the Green Line was clearly visible, we began to see homes which had been totally destroyed, several stories concertinaed. Families sat together on the rubble of their homes. Children collected firewood from the dismembered limbs of fruit trees.

At first it seemed as though it was ‘just’ a cluster of ten or fifteen destroyed houses, which would have been bad enough in its own right. However, as we continued walking it became apparent that the devastation extended into the next street and the next, more and more destroyed and damaged homes following one another. This entire neighbourhood on this easternmost edge of Jabalia had been virtually wiped off the face of the earth. It resembled the site of some massive natural disaster. However this ground zero was entirely man-made.

The gouged-out windows of some of the homes still standing were filled with dark green sand bags. This was a sign these houses had been used by the Israelis as sniper positions. One could barely imagine how the situation must have been in this neighbourhood when it was under attack.

We met a blind woman who had been held prisoner for 11 days in one room of her home, along with a paralysed man, whilst Israeli soldiers used it as a base. Terrified and expecting to be killed at any time, they were given water twice during their ordeal. When the Red Crescent evacuated them, the woman said she could finally breathe for the first time since the soldiers arrived. The walls had been daubed with Hebrew graffiti, empty plastic food trays were strewn around and the stairway stank of urine.

In the wake of a Gazan holocaust, thousands of people are finding themselves in truly desperate situations. A traumatized but resilient population is somehow beginning to pick up the pieces. Merely continuing to exist is a form of resistance.

Today was the first day that medics and journalists were able to reach areas occupied by the invading Israeli troops. Palestinians by this

Graffiti

Not everyone returned home to stay; many could be seen returning to where their homes were, or had stood, to retrieve anything worthwhile. Donkey carts and taxis were piled with blankets, clothes, cooking pots, cupboards, pieces of furniture, people…

I went straight to Ezbat Abed Rabbo, the area east of Jabaliya which had been cut off since day 1 of the ground invasion, over 2 weeks ago. The Red Crescent had been receiving calls to evacuate the injured and dead since day 1, and were prevented, at gunpoint, by gunfire, from reaching those needing evacuation. We heard the cries of those who managed to escape, their stories of being locked in homes at gunpoint, losing family members to point-blank assassinations or house-bombings.

And although the area was crammed with troubled, panicked, residents, many of them injured, without water, without food, with homes occupied by Israeli soldiers, I worried particularly about one man: the father of my friends.

We had no idea if he was alive, though we knew he’d stayed in the area. My panic was great, daily, I felt like I had said goodbye to a grandfather.

I bee-lined for his house, though had a hard time doing it since the streets and the land were turned upside-down, torn apart, filled with carcasses of houses and animals.

He was there, miraculously, noble in his traditional gown, long beard, hat. But he looked shattered.

“He cried for us,” his son told me. “He didn’t know if we were alive or dead.” So the confusion and desperation was both ways. Utterly cut off from one another, we were but mirror examples of families and loved ones all over the Gaza Strip. And we were luckier, because we are all alive. Except his wife, my friend’s mother, who was killed on the very first day of attacks. But now everything is relative and we cling desperately to the positive, for its all there is to cling to.

I have so much to tell, so many photos that don’t do justice to the suffering, heart-break, trauma, psychological damage, and despondency of people here. So many smells ingrained in my memory, that when sniffed will bring images of dead children, burned houses, chemical fires.

Slamming doors will forever remind of the missiles slamming the earth, the life below.

And just visiting the few areas I saw today, so many people, so desperate to tell their stories, tell of their anguish. For some the anguish is immense: pulverized homes, killed family members, corpses unretrieved, sanctimony and all that is sacred defiled. For others, the suffering is in the tragedy of shattered dreams, of every personal item destroyed or lost. It all matters, and they were all desperate to tell me. And I to listen. But quickly their words became a blur, a swirl of agony. My basic Arabic began to fail me as I wrote their ailments, their losses.

I will go back, to take careful inventory of the destruction, physical and emotional. Many of those who returned to where their homes were have to return to overcrowded schools with memories of slaughters even within school premises.

While the bombs may have stopped, for now, the terror remains. F-16s still flew low, terrifyingly low, today, so loud, so unpredictable. No one here has any reason to believe any words Israeli leaders proclaim. Only reason to believe in the worst. But out of necessity, we must hope for the best.

Red Crescent medic, Hassan al-Attal, was shot through the thigh while collecting a civilian killed by Israeli fire from Zemmo, east of Jabaliya refugee camp.