Jan 5 night shift / UNRWA refugee schools attacked

By Sharon in Gaza
talestotell.wordpress.com


Evacuated after multiple rocket hits destroyed their home

8pm: I am due at Al Quds hospital for a Red Crescent shift at 8pm, but as I am finishing up writing with the seaside apartment’s generated electricity, the strangest noise arrives from the sea. It is a whooshing sound like a rocket coming very close; V and I look at each other, look at the seaside window – he pulls his cap lower and leans away from the window, I put my jacket over my head so I can’t see what happens. But instead of finishing with an explosion, the sound decreases again into the distance.

It is then repeated several times, and I realise what we are hearing is not rockets, but planes – very loud and incredibly fast, making me think of the term supersonic, if that even means anything outside of comics. I set off to walk the half hour dark route to Al Quds hospital, but am only half way up the hill when more planes speed over, and explosions start between me and the hospital. I completely lose my nerve, stopping still under a tree and texting Eva that I can’t do this walk by myself. The planes have freaked her out as well. I walk quickly back to the apartment, and try to work out what to do. V suggests I walk the other direction, to Al Shifa hospital, and catch an ambulance shuttling to Al Quds.

What is with these planes? This little bit of land doesn’t even have a proper army! The term “overkill” has never had more meaning. It takes me some time to get up the courage to set off again, luckily the wierd planes have gone.

10.45 I am still at Al Shifa, having been waylaid by a Press TV reporter wanting to do an interview, but I’ve got into an ambulance ready to head off. Just as it is about to leave, rockets fall either side of the hospital and we retreat hurriedly back under the entrance shelter.

By the time we get to Al Quds the atmosphere is hectic. They have just received three men who were in a car outside a bombed house, I am not clear if one is dying or already dead. We rush another of them to Al Shifa for neurosurgery. Then we are sent off at high speed to emergency calls, through a darkened city full of smoke. Double strikes by Israel happen so often now that the ambulance workers’ stress levels are very high; the medics are doing everything at top speed and shouting at the tops of their voices as they do it. Rubble covers the streets from strikes minutes ago. The familiar smell of rocket fire fills the air, the same smell the grey dead men give off whom we have collected in the last days.

We peer into the darkness for someone watching for us; we spot a young boy who runs back around the corner. He returns with his family, 25 of them, mostly terrified young children. One boy is hopping. The medics run to grab them, shouting what must be the equivalent of “Move, we’ve got to get out of here!” Everyone is shoved into ambulances; a girl of about six is posted through the half open window into my arms. We tear back to the hospital, offloading them into comparative shelter, racing back to collect a father with his daughter of about 8 in his arms, a head trauma case.

Later, I go to see the family of 25, gathered in a room where they have been given blankets and food. There don’t appear to be any serious injuries, though when I hear more that seems a miracle. I ask two articulate and beautiful teenage English speakers from the family, R and S, what their story is. They explain half the family is their aunt and her children, who came to their house because their own was destroyed. R says – “in the last 3 nights, we were hit 13 times the first night, 3 times the next, and tonight 10 times. The 3rd floor was gone, then the second floor, we were just left in the first floor, now there is almost nothing.” They translate the aunt’s words to me – “What is the solution for us? What?” The girls add, “We had no solution from Fatah. No solution from Hamas. We just want peace! Just peace!”

“Where will you go?” I ask them.

“We don’t know.” they say. “We have some other family but they left their house too because Israel threatened to bomb it. We don’t know.”

I hear from E that she was borrowing internet in the Sharuch building tonight, which houses Russia TV, Fox, possibly Reuters, and other press offices, when it was struck 7 times one after the other. She got safely to the ground from the tenth floor, with everyone else, but she says she did think the whole place was going to collapse.

There is confused news through the night of more attacks on mosques and homes throughout Gaza. After the hectic earlier hours, the middle part of the shift is filled by collecting 5 women going into labour; by the 5th call S thinks his dispatcher is joking. I am pleased to be able to smile at our patients. Then S tells me about a 17 year old woman who went into labour yesterday. Her sister-in-law’s 1 year old was killed in the last days in her arms, the bullet continuing on to wound the mother. And her father-in-law is dead, but his body has not been able to be collected.

4am: Behind the two reception desks opposite each other are two families sitting on plastic chairs put in a circle. They are silent. A medic explains that the residential building behind us here at Al Quds has had a bomb threat. These families have evacuated to us here. Others remain in the building.

6am: I speak to EJ in Jabalia on the office phone. I forgot to tell you that the Red Crescent Ambulances again relocated their base, since there was a concern that Karmel Adwan hospital as a government hospital might be a target. So EJ, Mo, and A have done the night shift from the new base of Al Awda hospital. EJ says that at about 5am, 4 ambulances went to collect wounded from a house attack. They returned to get further wounded, again in a convoy of 4, and the Israeli army shelled the house for a second time as soon as they arrived. The medics outside the vans were injured by flying rubble. EJ was inside.

S tells me there was an attack on the Shatr UNWRA School, by Apache he thinks, which killed three UNWRA volunteers helping with the refugees. He is asked to take the ambulance to collect the body parts, as they are near the bathrooms which is distressing for people. But the RC boss says his is the only ambulance on standby so he must wait til others return first.

5pm: We just heard in the last hour that the Al Fakhoura UNWRA School was shelled, we think by tanks, and it is confirmed that 43 members of the same extended family were killed. The UNWRA Schools are sheltering refugees whose homes Israel has already bombed or threatened to bomb. We have also heard a third UNWRA school was attacked earlier but we have no further details yet. I cannot express the anger I am feeling right now.

Our group is holding together but we are feeling the increasing strain of not enough internet access, food, sleep, or hope for an end to this insanity. The numbers of dead have exceeded 570 and the injured have exceeded 2,600.

CNN: In Gaza, living with anger and fear

By Ashley Fantz | CNN

(CNN) “Listen, listen to this!” shouts Fida Qishta as the crackling of rockets is heard over her phone receiver.

“It’s difficult for anybody to imagine that in a second, maybe when I am talking to you on the phone, maybe something [will] happen to me or to my family,” the Palestinian blogger told CNN from her home in Gaza.

She has gotten little sleep during the past 10 days as Israel continues its attacks on her homeland, attacks the Jewish state says are designed to stop months of rocket strikes on southern Israel by Hamas militants in Gaza.

Qishta writes furiously, hoping to convey the horror she sees. “The Israeli army are cannibals. They don’t look for civilians, for children or women. Most attacks happen on families, on their houses,” she said, her voice rising in anger.

For what Qishta cannot put into words, there are agonizing photographs: Bloody Palestinian children, their skin burned, lie limp in their helpless parents’ arms. Hospitals, filled to capacity, redefine chaos as much-needed medical supplies are stalled a short distance away at the blocked border with Egypt.

At one hospital, a man bows his head and cries. He rests his hand over the bellies of his two toddler relatives. They look uninjured; their eyes are shut. They were both killed Monday.

They are the faces of a Palestinian death toll that has surpassed 500.

“There’s always two sides to every story,” said Dov Hartuv, who lives close to the southern border in Israel’s Kibbutz Nahal Oz, which he says has been hit by Hamas rockets in the past. Israel has said its campaign is aimed at stopping Hamas rockets from terrorizing its own civilians.

Asked about Fida Qishta’s strong comments, Hartuv said it’s hard not to react.

“But I am not going to argue with her,” he said. “We are in the eye of the storm just as she is.”

At the Egyptian border, Antar Mahmood stands and waits. At his feet are drums of cooking oil, food and a heavy bag of supplies he is trying to take to his family. He says his house was flattened by the Israeli airstrikes.

But Israeli and Egyptian guards aren’t letting anything or anyone get through this part of the Gaza border.

“I just called home and asked what happened, and they said your son Mohammed has been wounded,” he said. “He’s alive, but he’s wounded.”

In Israel, where four civilians and one soldier have been killed since the attack on Gaza began, Israelis have been gathering every morning on a southern hilltop to watch Apache helicopters. Nearby, reporters who have been banned from entering Gaza set up tripods and position their long lenses.

“It is somewhat surreal to be standing on grassy hillsides with Israeli civilians sitting in chairs, watching the ongoing Israeli military offensive,” Dion Nissenbaum, a McClatchy Newspapers Middle East correspondent, said in an e-mail to CNN.

“They don’t seem to be bothered by the occasional Qassam rockets and mortar rounds that explode in the surrounding fields,” Nissenbaum wrote in his blog, Checkpoint Jerusalem. “They have come to watch the war.”

Dov Hartuv, who describes himself as a fatalist, said he has a fortified safe room in his home.

“I’m not really afraid for myself. What will happen will happen,” he said. “But it certainly is very frightening and nerve-wracking to live under these conditions, and I’m sure everyone is affected by it. … We think about people on our side and on the other side who are suffering and hope that it will end as quickly as possible.”

From her part-time home in Durham, North Carolina, Palestinian mother and blogger Laila El-Haddad is constantly talking to her father in Gaza. Cell phone coverage is spotty, but the two manage to video conference using Skype.

“I’m thinking about my family all the time,” she said. “I have lived through Israeli bombardments in the past, but this is much fiercer than anything ever before.”

A few years ago, during air raids by Israeli jets over northern Gaza, she was living with her son in Gaza City.

She tried to tell the 2-year-old that it was just popcorn popping outside. He replied, “I don’t like that kind of popcorn.”

Even today, in the quiet of an American suburb, the boy still cannot sleep through the night.

“He remembers the shelling and gets up and crawls into bed with me,” she said.

Her father, Moussa El-Haddad, is a physician who volunteered Monday at Gaza’s Shifa Hospital. On Sunday, a Norwegian doctor at Shifa told reporters that the facility was overwhelmed with so many “patients lying everywhere” that they were dying before doctors had a chance to get to them.

Moussa El-Haddad says that after dealing with death at work, he comes home to robo-calls: “Urgent message: Warning to the citizens of Gaza. Hamas is using you as human shields. Do not listen to them. Hamas has abandoned you and are hiding in their shelters. Give up now.”

His daughter said he hangs up in disgust every time.

To ease the dark mood, Laila El-Haddad asked her father how his exotic pet bird is faring through the airstrikes.

“My dad has got a sense of humor,” she said. “He told me that it used to go ‘chirp, chirp,’ but now it goes ‘boom, boom.’ “

Israel attacks international media building in Gaza City

10pm, 5th January 2009, Gaza City: A high-story building housing international media outlets in Gaza City has been targeted by the Israeli military. Seven rounds were fired from an apache helicopter into the building in which international media which houses international media outlets such as Reuters.

Canadian Human Rights Activist Eva Bartlett was inside the building as it was attacked;

“It felt like the building was about to collapse. The attack was a few floors above where we were, but it felt like the building was going to come down.

Israel has denied the international media access to Gaza, now they are targeting those who are attempting to tell the world what is happening here. Israel does not want the world to see it’s crimes.” Eva Bartlett – International Solidarity Movement

Israel has maintained it’s ban on foreign journalists entering the Gaza Strip, despite an Israeli Supreme Court ruling stating that they should be permitted.

International Solidarity Movement and Free Gaza Movement volunteers have been working to document the Israeli attacks on the Gaza Strip.

23 hours in Jabaliya

By Sharon in Gaza
talestotell.wordpress.com

January 4, 6pm – January 5, 5pm

6pm: To Al Awda hospital, run by the Union of Health Work Committees. It normally has a 50 bed capacity but has been stretched to 75. E and Mo interview Ala’a, the medic from Jabalia RC who was injured when Arafa was killed yesterday.

The story goes as follows:

It was about 8.30 am Saturday morning in Jabalia. Five teenagers found themselves under shell attack and tried to get away. Three escaped. One, Tha’er, 19, had his foot blown off. His friend Ali, also 19, tried to pick him up and carry him to safety, but was shot in the head and killed. It took 75- 90 minutes before a Jabalia Red Crescent ambulance could reach them. Medic Arafa, 35, and Ala’a, 22, carried Tha’er to the ambulance, and then went back for Ali’s body. As they closed the van door, they were shelled.

Ala’a says “I felt nothing – just that I was flying in the air and then falling.” Other ambulances evacuated all. Arafa, who was married with 5 children, had a severe chest wound with most of one lung gone and only survived 2 hours. Ali’s head was blown off. Ala’a is now in hospital with severe shrapnel wounds all over, especially chest and legs. Tha’er survived but also now has several lacerations to back and body from shrapel.

Arafa was a teacher for the UN, gave medic training, and volunteered as a medic after being one professionally earlier.

7pm: We arrange to sleep in shifts at Al-Awda hospital. V and I crash. E, A and M hitch a ride with the first RC ambulance that turns up, out to Karmel Adwan hospital, the Red Crescent’s second new base since evacuating their centre. The base is a few blankets in a corridor, but there is tea sometimes.

11pm: E comes back to sleep, V and I ride with O’s ambulance to Karmel Adwan. O has a scarf wrapped round his knee, he was shot there some years ago and has pain in cold weather. I talking A and Mo into going to back to rest, but fail to convince EJ. The night turns out to be quiet. Unfortunately, I soon understand this is because a) a lot of Jabalia people have run away, and b) Israel is not letting the ambulances collected most of the wounded that do call for help.

2pm: we collect a woman in labour. Back at the hospital, I chat to Om, who is a nurse but volunteers at the Al-Assyria Centre that the Union of Health Work Committees runs. Also to M, in a hospital bed. He is 23, six months married, and made the mistake of standing next to the Jabalia mosque that was bombed two days ago. He is now recovering from abdominal surgery.

Everyone has naps in the ambulances. EJ and I are being called hourly by the BBC to contribute to news bulletins, “live from Gaza”.

5am: we hear that there has been a threat to bomb Al Wafa hospital which I understand is a centre for the disabled.

7.15am: we collect a man seriously injured by rocket explosion from a house in Sikha St, Jabalia; I doubt he has more than minutes to live, but he is still alive when we reach the hospital.

9am: An injured woman is having a panic attack. We collect a woman whose home has just been shelled, she is having a panic attack and I am not clear on her injuries. Back at the hospital people are loudly grieving for two recent dead. These may be the nearly dead man my ambulance collected and another I saw arrive, both horribly mangled by rockets and the now-familiar grey colour.

9.30: We hear that Beit Hanoun is almost completely occupied by the Israeli army, as is the nearby small town Zahra which commands the north/south road. The north (us) and the south (F, G, and OJ in Rafah) may now be cut off from each other. We check in by phone, making contingency plans.

10am: Mo’s sister calls to tell him his village of Khosa is being shelled; the farmland in the centre which is surrounded by housing. “There’s nothing there, just people’s homes.” he tells us. He says there are now Israeli tanks in the Attatta and Shaimah areas of Beit Lahia. This is 1km inside the border, and 2km away from us at Jabalia. He says tank invasions used to take main roads, but he expects this time they will do what they did in February; bring in bulldozers and go directly through the houses.

He tells us that today Palestinian phones are receiving recorded messages from the army, saying “To the innocent civilians: our war is not with you, but with Hamas. If they don’t stop launching rockets, you are all going to be in danger.”

11.50: Call to near Gaza beach, turns out to be a mistake. Instead we pick up a family with two little children who are evacuating, sat on the side of the road, worn out from carrying bags. We passed Beit Lahia UNRWA school earlier, it is filling up with refugee families. Like Naher El Bared all over again.

N draws my attention to one more extremely crowded bread queue, and then we discover a young teenage boy in the queue has collapsed from exhaustion; the medics treat him to the extent they can.

4pm: F calls to say they’ve heard Al Awda hospital has been shelled. I ring EJ. She says a structure immediately beside it received two shells; one person was injured, the man who lent her his jacket last night. He has shrapnel to the head and she says he isn’t looking too good. A apparently caught the shelling on his camera. We wonder if we should head back there to be again with Jabalia RC instead of Gaza city RC. But Gaza city lost 3 of their medics yesterday.

Latest:
There have been two separate reports about Israeli attacks on funeral tents. We are trying to confirm deaths and injuries for one. The second of the funerals attacked was medic Arafa’s yesterday afternoon; 5 people were injured.

We have also had reports that in the Zaytoun area two days ago, Israeli soliders rounded up a group of people into two houses; women and children into one, men into the other, where they were kept for two days. Then this morning at 11am Israeli forces shelled the houses. We have heard the number of deaths as between 7 and 20. One was a seven year old boy whose father was interviewed on TV while holding his body. We are trying to find out further details. It is getting very hard to keep up with this insanity.

We asked the Jabalia Red Crescent admin person how much of the emergency calls Israel is not letting them go to. These are in areas where co-ordination must be made with the invading forces via the Red Cross to enter. He said they are not being allowed to attend to about 80% of the calls from the north, covering the Beit Lahia, Beit Hanoun, and Jabalia area.

Shall I repeat that?
80%.
Eight of ten people calling for help are being prevented from receiving it.