Tag: Beit Lahiya

DCI: Child blown to pieces, one maimed and two injured in drone attack

Defense for Children International

On 7 January 2009, Husam Sobuh (11) decided to bring more food, blankets and clothes to the UNRWA school in Beit Lahiya, where he was taking refuge with his family. On his way, he met with his uncle Osama (36) and his two children, Huda (11) and Luai (9), who were going home for the same reason. During this dangerous journey to their neighbourhood, where combatants were now fighting, Husam sheltered in an empty house with Mahmoud Abu Laila (14) and Luai Sobuh (9). All of a sudden, the building was attacked twice by a drone plane. Husam was blown into two pieces. Luai was blinded, and his body badly injured in the attack. Mahmoud suffered several injuries but recovered, as did Huda, who is badly traumatized by the incident. Osama has heard of treatment to restore Luai’s sight in the United States, but can’t afford the treatment.

The following information is based on an affidavit taken by DCI-Palestine from Husam Sobuh’s father, Osama Rajab Mohammad Sobuh, on 11 November 2009.

When the ground offensive stage of Operation Cast Lead saw an escalation in the bombing and shelling of Beit Lahiya, Osama Sobuh decided to take his family and flee. He brought his wife, nine children, two daughters-in-law and one grandchild to the UNRWA run Abu Hussein School in Jabalia Camp. It seemed all of Beit Lahiya was there seeking shelter in the school. Conditions were bad, not enough food, blankets or mattresses for the overcrowded population.

On 7 January, Osama decided to return to his house in al-Amal, Beit Lahiya, to collect some clothes, food and blankets for himself and his family. He decided to bring the two youngest children, believing the soldiers wouldn’t shoot at him if he had young children with him. Luai (9) and Huda (11) were scared, but he reassured them that they would be safe. On their journey, they met their relatives Mahmoud Abu Laila (14) and Husam Sobuh (11), who were going home for the same reason. Reaching al-Amal, they found all the residents had fled: “We reached the neighbourhood at around 7:45am and found it completely empty. No one was there except for some fighters in the alleyways, side-roads and under trees. An Israeli drone plane was circling overhead; I felt it was flying above us and watching us.” Osama remembers.

Having reached their houses, they gathered what they needed and reconvened to start the journey back to the school together. Osama made a white flag for Luai to wave as they walked, and they set off around 8:00am. Only 150 metres from the house, Osama got a phone call: “As we were walking back, my son Rajab called me to ask me to bring the small cooker to boil milk for his little son Raed because there was no gas in the school.” He tried to convince Luai to go back but he refused, so he installed the children in the empty house, fearing the drone plane overhead would launch an attack if they stayed on the street. “I left the children and told them I wouldn’t be long. I left the bags with them. Huda followed me. I had walked for about 30 metres when I heard a huge explosion from the drone plane. I turned around and saw thick white smoke coming from the house … where the children were. Huda was thrown to the ground…”

As he tried to run back to Huda and the rest of the children, an Apache helicopter overhead started firing, forcing him to run in the opposite direction. He took shelter in a neighbour’s house: “I stood at the door and looked at my daughter whose left arm had been injured. She was crawling towards me. She was shouting; “Please help me father,” but I couldn’t do anything except wait for her to crawl to me because the Apache helicopter was still hovering in the sky and firing on the street.” Huda managed to reach the house, where she was taken inside and treated by the women of the house.

Osama waited by the door for the Apache helicopter to stop firing and leave, so he could go to his children in the empty house, 50 metres away. As he waited, the drone plane attacked again: “I saw something flying in the air and falling on the street. I looked at the street and saw thick smoke coming out of the house; a few seconds later, as the smoke started to clear and I saw a half body of one of the children thrown on the street.”

An hour after the first attack, the Apache left and Osama managed to reach his children: “Once I entered the first floor, I saw my son Luai on the floor. He wasn’t moving. His face, eyes, chest and left arm were bleeding. His left arm was completely blown off. Mahmoud was beside him. He was also unconscious and his stomach was bleeding. I saw legs beside them and I assumed they were Husam’s legs. The rest of Husam’s body was on the street. The stench of smoke, explosives, and burned flesh filled the air. I saw small pieces of flesh and bones glued to the walls and the ceiling. They were pieces of flesh and bones of Husam’s dismembered body.”

Osama and other neighbours gathered the children and found an ambulance to rush them to hospital. Luai was transferred to Shifa Hospital in Gaza, and later to a Saudi hospital for treatment. He was left completely blind and is in need of plastic surgery for injuries to his arm. Huda also sustained injuries to her. Husam was brought directly to the morgue.

Speaking to DCI the following November, Osama explains that Luai has changed a lot. He has been enrolled in a school for the blind and his grades have been badly affected. He is angry all the time and fights with everyone. Osama is finding it hard to fund his treatment. He has heard of a procedure in the United States that could restore his sight. He hopes some organisation or individual will donate the money to help his son. Huda and Mahmoud have recovered physically, but Huda has been badly traumatized by the event.

Israeli forces shoot at Gaza bird-catchers, farmers

Eva Bartlett | The Electronic Intifada

20 November 2009

Farmer Mahmoud Mohammed Shawish Zaneen was shot in both his legs while planting wheat east of Beit Hanoun. (Eva Bartlett)
Farmer Mahmoud Mohammed Shawish Zaneen was shot in both his legs while planting wheat east of Beit Hanoun. (Eva Bartlett)

On 15 November at 8:30am, a number of young men went as usual to the land near Gaza’s northern border with Israel planning to catch birds. Amjad Hassanain, 27, was among the bird-catchers hunting near the border fence when Israeli soldiers began shooting.

The shots which missed the other bird-catchers hit Hassanain, grazing his shoulder. Cameraman Abdul Rahman Hussain, filming in the vicinity, reports having seen the group of bird-catches head north.

“We were near the former Israeli settlement of Doghit,” said Hussain, referring to the area northwest of Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip.

“I had gone to the border area to photograph a young bird-catcher. We were about 400 meters from the border fence, but when we heard the shooting, we moved back to around one kilometer.”

According to Hussain, the other men had to carry the wounded Hassanain one kilometer from the site of injury, then transferred him to a motorcycle and finally to a car.

“He was covered in blood, I couldn’t tell where he was hit,” said Hussain.

There to document the work of bird-catchers, Hussain was surprised by the shooting.

“They always go there to catch birds. They put their nets close to the fence in order to catch as many as possible.” Like the bird-catchers, Hussain believed the Israeli soldiers along the border were familiar enough with the bird catching activity that they wouldn’t shoot.

Two hours later, Mahmoud Mohammed Shawish Zaneen and seven other farmers took a break from their work plowing land east of Beit Hanoun.

“We had three tractors with us. We’d been working since 8am, planting wheat. At first we worked about 450 meters from the border fence, but later we were 700 meters away,” he explained.

The farmers had paused to drink tea when Israeli soldiers began shooting.

Zaneen added, “The tractors were stopped and we were sitting on them. There were about seven Israeli soldiers, on foot. They shot the other tractors and then shot mine. They didn’t give us any warning, just started shooting.”

The bullet which pierced Zaneen’s left calf continued into his right calf.

Since the end of last winter’s Israeli invasion of Gaza, at least nine Palestinians have been killed, and another more than 34 injured, by Israeli shooting and shelling in the border areas in Gaza’s north and east.

Eva Bartlett is a Canadian human rights advocate and freelancer who arrived in Gaza in November 2008 on the third Free Gaza Movement boat. She has been volunteering with the International Solidarity Movement and documenting Israel’s ongoing attacks on Palestinians in Gaza. During Israel’s recent assault on Gaza, she and other ISM volunteers accompanied ambulances and documenting the Israeli attacks on the Gaza Strip.

Gazan fishermen protest against Israeli Navy attacks

ISM Gaza | Fishing Under Fire

2 April 2009

On the 2nd of April, dozens of fishermen from the Salateen area in Beit Lahiya in the far north of Gaza, staged a march towards the coast to protest against recent Israeli naval attacks.  The demonstrators were joined by the Director of the General Syndicate of Marine Fishers, Nizar Ayash, as well as Palestinian activists from the Beit Hanoun Local Initiative. The demonstration was supported by volunteers from the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), amongst them two international activists abducted by Israeli naval forces last November.


The Israeli navy has intensely escalated its attacks against Gazan fishermen since the recent onslaught on the Gaza Strip.  In just the past three weeks, at least two fishermen have been injured by gunfire, 16 have been abducted (some of them tortured and later released) and seven fishing boats have been stolen without being returned.  Several other boats have also reportedly been damaged by Israeli gunfire.  Most of the fishermen are from the Salateen area, some of whom now face bleak situations – in the wake of losing their homes during Israeli bombing raids, they have now lost their sole means of income in an area already greatly impoverished by the continued Israeli siege on Gaza

All we’ve got left of him

Eva Bartlett | In Gaza

2 February 2009

Abdul Rahman Ghraben’s mother carried in a yellow plastic bag.  “This is his pant leg, and tiny pieces of him,”  she said, holding the knotted bag at the handles. Her husband had been explaining how fourteen year old Abed was killed on January 11.

“The Israeli forces had been bombing hard so we’d evacuated the house, gone to Fakoura (UN school which had been bombed with white phosphorous). The first 3 days at the school we had only the clothes we were wearing, no blankets, no food. At night in Fakoura it was so cold and windy, so when we heard on the radio that there would be a cease-fire between 8 am and 11 am, Abed asked if he could return home to grab a jacket. We all went with him,”  Abu Abed explained, now holding the yellow bag.

“When we were in the house, the Israeli army starting bombing in the area,” said Umm Abed. “We were very frightened, we had thought the cease-fire meant we could return home safely.  We quickly took whatever clothes and food we could and left the house.  I thought Abed was ahead of us. At the school friends told us Abed hadn’t come back.  They also said that a drone had fired a missile at our area.  People were saying the missile had hit a child and shattered him to pieces.  We didn’t know it was Abed.”

Umm Abed stopped her recollection to take out the contents of the yellow supermarket bag. “We searched for Abed for 2 days.  People were telling us ‘your son was killed’ but we couldn’t find his body, we couldn’t believe it had been Abed.”

“Finally,” Abu Abed continued, pulling the tattered pant leg out of the bag, “we found this and knew Abed had been killed. It’s all that was left of him. Since then, since we’ve returned home we find more pieces of him.” The father pulled out a tuft of hair, a dried piece of some internal part of Abed, an inch long piece of sharp shrapnel from the drone’s missile.  “Daily we find small bits of him, all over the area.  He was blown to bits,” his father says.  Although the strike happened 3 weeks ago, the family’s pain is no less fresh.

“Why are they doing this to our children? What did my son do? Did he launch rockets? Where is their humanity when they kill a child like this?  He was a child, he had the right to live like any other child,” asked Abu Abed, voicing the questions that parents of over 400 children in Gaza are asking of the Israeli army and Israeli authorities making the decisions to bombard Gaza.

In a bullet hole in the wall beside Umm Abed,  a decorative flower had been stuck, the hole too large for the plastic stem. Efforts fall short to cover the ugly rampage of the soldiers inside a house which has been torn apart much as their lives have been torn apart. The Ghraben’s house is in the Hayid Amal neighbourhood of Attatra, in the Beit Lahia region.  Like the surrounding houses, it is puckered with scars of Israeli army firing, and bears evidence of the Israeli army’s invasion and rampage through it.  A bedroom door is torn off its hinges, clothes shredded by automatic gunfire, damage throughout the house.  Abu Yusef, an uncle and neighbour, had the day before shown his house: more extensive trashing had been done, but the family was back living in it, drafts and all.

Abu Abed made a parting plea to those outside Gaza: “We are asking the international community to cut their relationship with Israel, because Israel is killing children.  During just 10 minutes in my neighbourhood alone Israeli soldiers killed 10 children,” he said as an example to the wider massacre of children, and adult civilians, which happened during the 3 weeks of war on Gaza. “We are still not safe.  We still expect an Israeli bulldozer or tank could enter and bulldoze our homes at any time, because they have before.  There are still F-16s which fly over our house, and we never know when the next bomb will be dropped.”

el Amoudi homeless

Eva Bartlett | In Gaza

“Bissa flora,” he said. “Taste it, it’s delicious!”

“It’s used for stomach ailments, and is extremely healthy.  Has vitamins A, B, C and D,” Osama translated for me.  The botanist sat by his tree, his bulldozed tree, and went on extolling its virtues.

“The fruit helps to regulate your pulse and is good for blood circulation,” he confided.

How did he have so much knowledge about this tree, I wondered, and asked.

“I’ve got a catalogue inside my… house,” he said, gesturing at the re-piled concrete blocks, a portion of those which had formerly made up his home.  They now stood like  a Lego house, stacked 4m by 4 m and just tall enough to stand within with a slight stoop.

Back to the trees.

“I introduced this tree in Gaza.  I first saw it in Brazil and later found one in Israel, which I bought. I used to buy many trees in Israel, and I used to import many specialized trees for sale in Gaza,” he said.

Brazil?

“I’ve traveled in over 40 countries, you know. Before the siege, before it was impossible to leave Gaza.”

Why? For work? Other?

“I love to travel.”

Fair enough, so do I.

While the rest of the homeless in the el Amoudi area, in the Beit Lahia region, somewhere between Jabaliya and Attatra, were still working at making the most of their Lego shelter –cleaning up remaining rubble and rubbish, and keen to tell me about their new, completely inadequate shelters which stand roughly where larger, furniture and memory-filled homes stood until Israel’s war on Gaza –Abu Bassam was more interested in fostering my knowledge of the Bissa Flora tree.

He insisted on opening the remaining fruit for me to sample, cutting the rough outer skin pumpkin-style and scooping out an apricot-tasting pulp for me to sample.  He was right, delicious.

Curious as to which block shelter was his, I finally coaxed him away from talk of trees.  “He’s my husband, this is our house,” the woman who’d been patiently standing beside me, now and then trying to pry me away from Abu Bassam.  And so we went to see their home.  “It was 300 square metres before.  There are 10 in our family, so it was a good size,” she said, pulling back a cloth serving as a door to reveal a few mattresses spread on the floor.

“I’m sleeping here with 3 of our kids.  The others are still staying with family.  We want to live here, but you see, it’s too small and not possible to cook here.”

Like the 25 other houses in the neighbourhood, Abu Bassam’s house was first hit by Apache and tank shelling, and then bulldozed, intentionally felled, his wife explained. “The UNRWA has promised to rebuild our houses, but we don’t know if or when that will happen.  Right now, we’re just hoping for tents.  The tents are terrible to live in, but we have nothing now. Nothing.”

Looking around the wasteland of rubble and Lego houses, it became apparent that this is true, and even that what Abu Bassam has been able to salvage for a block structure is larger than some of the others, some of which measure just 2m by 2 m, barely large enough for one person to lie down in, let alone a family.