Tag: Palestinian Centre for Human Rights

4 January 2009: The Abdel Dayem family

4 January 2012 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

“I was told initially that Arafa had been injured in an Israeli strike. Of course I was concerned, but many people get injured in his line of work and what was important is that he was still alive. I learnt only fifteen minutes before Arafa’s body arrived back at the family home that he had died. The shock was unbearable”

Imtihan Abdel Dayam with sons Hamed, Ahmed, Abdel Rahman, and Hani (left to right) (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)

Arafa Abdel Dayem, 34, was killed on 4 January 2009, during Israel’s 23 day offensive on the Gaza Strip, codenamed “Operation Cast Lead”. Arafa, a medic, was responding to a missile attack on a group of five unarmed men when an Israeli tank fired a shell filled with flechettes directly at the group.

Meeting the al Dayem family one can’t help but notice the quiet and composed nature of the whole group.  It is obvious that the four boys: Hani, 11, Hamed, 9, Abdel Rahman, 6, and Ahmed, 4, have been impeccably taught by their mother, Imtihan al Dayem, 35, in the ways of politeness and good behaviour. The boys remain quiet and seated next to Imtihan at all times during the interview.

Imtihan recalls the events of that day, three years ago: “I was told initially that Arafa had been injured in an Israeli strike. Of course I was concerned, but many people get injured in his line of work and what was important is that he was still alive. I learnt only fifteen minutes before Arafa’s body arrived back at the family home that he had died. The shock was unbearable”. Imtihan’s voice breaks a little as she retells the moment she learnt of her husband’s death, but it is only a glancing moment of vulnerability in what is otherwise a strong face put on “for the sake of the children and their future.”

The family have faced challenges since the loss of Arafa. Due to a dispute with Arafa’s family, with whom they lived prior to the incident, Imtihan was forced to move out and into the unfinished house started by Arafa before he died. “When we moved in there was nothing, no furniture, no windows, no carpets, we only had the house painted ten days ago,” says Imtihan. Using Arafa’s savings she was able to pay off previous loans used to start construction on the house but did not have enough to finish it.

Reflecting on Arafa’s life before he was killed Imtihan talks of Arafa’s courage and popularity amongst Palestinians. “During the war, Arafa would only come home to deliver food to the family and then go out to volunteer with the medics again. If one medical crew was full he would look for others” says Imtihan. “We received condolences from all over the world when he died.” Unsurprisingly, “the importance of being strong” is something that Imtihan reiterates in her discussion of the family’s lives since the death of her husband.

The effect on the children on the loss of their father was particularly traumatic, especially Hani who, given his and his Dad’s close relationship, displayed physical and mental symptoms of extreme trauma in the year following the event. “But I have been upfront with the children that they will behave as their father would wish them to,” says Imtihan, and daily talking sessions with UNRWA staff in the period following the death of his father has meant Hani is now doing well in school and excelling in science, a field his father taught in the local UNRWA school. It is clear that Hani is filling the position of man of the house as he sits quietly with his mother and watches over his younger brothers. Ahmed, the youngest, was four months when Arafa died, “he did not have a chance to know or to love his father” says Imtihan.

Speaking of the future Imtihan is hopeful, “I have four young boys whom I hope to see graduate from college and get married, but I am only one, it is a huge responsibility and I must be strong.” She is also hopeful for prospects regarding legal proceedings in Israel concerning compensation for her husband’s killing given that Arafa was clearly not a military target at the time of his killing at the hands of Israeli occupation forces.

PCHR submitted a criminal complaint on behalf of the Abdel Dayem Family on 21 August 2009. To-date, no response has been received.

The series of narratives:

3 January 2009: Motee’ and Isma’il as-Selawy
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

3 January 2009: Motee’ and Isma’il as-Selawy

3 January 2012 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

“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

2 January 2009: Eyad al-Astal

2 January 12 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

“The second of January is no different from any other day. Every day and every minute feels like the moment when I lost my sons. In everything there is a memory of them. I miss them all the time.”

On 2 January 2009 at around 14:30 an Israeli drone fired a missile at an open area in Qarara village, close to Khan Yunis. The missile struck and killed two brothers, Mohammed (12) and Abed Rabbo (9) al-Astal, and their cousin, Abdul Sattar Walid al-Astal (11) while they were playing and eating sugar canes in the land.

“I was at home when I heard an explosion that was close to our area. An Israeli drone was flying in the sky above us at that moment.” Eyad al-Astal recalls. “Approximately ten minutes later, my brother Ibrahim (28) came to my house and told me that my two sons and their cousin were killed by an Israeli shell. I rapidly left the house and headed to the scene about 250 meters west of my house. There I saw a deep hole. Traces of blood and fragments of flesh were still there.”

Three years have passed since Eyad lost his two sons but he still carries vivid memories with him. “Every day and every minute feels like the moment when I lost my sons. In everything there is a memory of them. I miss them all the time.”

Eyad tries to describe what the life of his family is like without Mohammed and Abed Rabbo: “Our lives have been very difficult since they were killed. Every time I see another boy their age, I remember my sons. I still cannot look at their photos, it is too painful.” He says; “I always feel like crying but I try not to. My wife, Jawaher, cries everyday but tries to hide her tears from me. She does not want to add salt to my wounds. My wife always wants to go to our sons’ graves with her mother, but I don’t. I only went once and don’t want to go again. I can’t face the sight of their graves.”

Besides Mohammed and Abed Rabbo, Eyad and his wife have five daughters and two sons. Mohammed and Abed Rabbo were the oldest children and their siblings were either very young or not born yet at the time of their death. The youngest child was born one and a half years after the war and will have no memories at all. “When the children ask us where their brothers are we tell them that they were killed, martyred, and are in heaven now”, says Eyad.

The memory of his sons is at the tip of Eyad’s tongue. “My son Khaled looks exactly like his brother Mohammed and I often find myself saying ‘Mohammed!’ when I actually mean to call Khaled.” In order to keep going, Eyad tries to stay busy all the time, finding some distraction by meeting people and working as a mason.

Since the death of his sons Eyad is tormented by worries and fears for the safety of his other children. Before the death of Mohammed and Abed Rabbo he allowed his children to go anywhere at anytime. Even when there were explosions and shooting was heard in the area. After the incident he became very afraid for his children and he wants to keep them inside. “I am afraid that anything would happen to them, especially for my son Khaled, who is now in the first grade. From the moment he leaves the house I worry that something could happen to him. Every day he walks to school, which is 1 kilometer away from our home. I know education is important, otherwise I would forbid him to go, out of my fear.”

The children themselves are aware that their brothers were killed by a drone: the same type of drone they often hear and see flying above themselves. Eyad explains that “when they hear a drone they are too afraid to go outside. ‘The drone will bomb me if I go out’, is what they say.”

The area where Mohammed and Abed Rabbo were killed was an open area approximately three kilometres away from the border with Israel. “The children were used to playing in that area. Our piece of land is close to it. It is an agricultural residential area, far from any hostilities,” Eyad explains.

Eyad is sceptical about the future, given the continuing impunity. “The Israelis disregard our rights. They kill our children and bulldoze our lands and no one will hold them accountable,” he says. “I expect the Israeli court to reject our complaint. I can even imagine them killing me together with my other children. However, I want to hope that the complaint would have some result.”

PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on behalf of the al-Astal family on 23 June 2009. To-date, no response has been received.

The series of narratives:

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

1 January 2009: The Nasla family

1 January 12 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

“I wish that if our fate is to die, that we die together, I wouldn’t want anybody left to have to bear this sort of pain”

Jihad, Mu'tassam, and Zeid Nasla with a picture of M'uz Nasla, killed during the attack. (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)

On 1 January 2009 at around 15:00, Israeli military planes targeted a water tower across from the home of the Nasla family in North Beit Lahiya. The family were making lunch when the first bomb hit. As the family were trying to escape the smoke filled house, a second and third bomb struck the area, killing Ayoun Nasla, 6, and M’uz Nasla, 2.

For Ayoun and M’uz’s father, Jihad Nasla, the memory of what happened that day is especially distressing. “I found M’uz with his heart outside his chest and my daughter Ayoun with part of her skull missing and her brains spilt out,” says Jihad. “It is the night time, when I used to tell M’uz the stories of Abraham to get him to sleep, and when I go to visit their graves, when I most vividly recall the incident”. “I can no longer go into clothes shops to buy clothes for my children, I used to buy for three boys and two girl’s; I can’t bear to buy only for three”, added Fatima, 42.

The children’s mother, Fatima, has also given a lot of thought and attention to that fateful day. It is clear that she ruminates on the moments, days and years before the attack took place. “M’uz used to go to the balcony of the house every morning and say “good morning” to Majdal and Herbia, where our family is originally from, and every night he would say “good night.” The day he was killed he had said good morning but he never got to say good night,” says Fatima. “M’uz used to have a favourite resistance song he sang all the time, it reminds me so much of him anytime it is played, especially because it is played a lot on the anniversary of his death, which also happens to be the anniversary of one of the resistance groups.  The title of the song is now written on his grave.”

The family dynamic has been dramatically changed since the attack, a result of the stress they all share; the stress of one family member increases the anxiety of the others.  “My wife now cries every day, I have to try and calm her down every time and this has become a source of conflict between us,” says Jihad, to which Fatima adds: “I cry so often I feel my vision is now starting to be affected.” The children’s anxiety also feeds into the parent’s anxiety. “If Zeid wakes up in the middle of the night, when it’s dark, he starts to scream. I then wake up terrified something is happening” says Jihad.

The anxiety of the children is plain both from their parents discussion of the changes they have gone through since the death of their siblings, and their reaction to the unhappy topic of the discussion. “Mu’tassam was very calm until the incident. But he has started to become violent. His grades have also been lightly affected” says Jihad.

Talk of the future for the couple is largely filled with fear and doubt. “In the future I hope to live in peace with the Israelis, but I doubt this will happen given what the Israelis do to us” says Fatima. “I wish that if our fate is to die that we die together, I wouldn’t want anybody left to have to bear this sort of pain”. Jihad expresses similar feelings, “I am terrified that another attack will take more of us, when planes are flying overhead I tell my children to play so that we are distracted,” he says. “My hope is that the pain we carry will one day come to an end, but I don’t know how this is going to happen.”

PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on 9 September 2009. To date, no response has been received.

The series of narratives:

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

31 December 2008: The Abu Areeda family

31 December 2011 | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

“Before my mother’s death we used to be very happy on 1 January, have celebrations and visit people. Now we are all silent in the last hour of each year and on 1 January we don’t celebrate the new year. We visit our mohter’s grave. We remember.”

(Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)

Around 23:30 on 31 December 2008, an Israeli warplane fired a missile at Najma Parc, a small green strip in the main street of the residential al-Shaboura neighbourhood in Rafah, killing two civilians and injuring dozens of others. Iman Abu Areeda (34) was one of the two casualties, killed by a piece of shrapnel that penetrated her brain. Seven members of the extended Abu Areeda family who were also in the house at the time of the attack were mildly injured by shrapnel. The Abu Areeda family was displaced for several weeks after the attack as the external walls in the front side of the house were destroyed. The internal walls and furniture were also damaged.

It was about half an hour before midnight on 31 December when electricity in the area was cut. Iman went to cover her youngest son, Mohammed, who was sleeping in his room. As she was leaning over him, the missile hit a few dozen meters away from their family home. The shrapnel that came through the outer wall killed her. Iman left behind her husband Mahmoud Abu Areeda (now 39) and their 7 children: Majd (20), Randa (19), Basel (18), Hibba (14), Islam (12), Watan (9), and Mohammed (6).

“My mother died when I was 15 years old. It was the age that I needed her the most. I was in shock and I couldn’t believe that she died. I still do not believe it. I felt like not going to school any longer but I pushed myself and kept going because I know she would have wanted me to do so,” says Iman’s second oldest son, Basel.

His siblings, Majd, Randa, Islam and Hibba have been badly affected psychologically by the death of their mother. Since the attack they prefer to be by themselves, isolated from the rest of their family. Randa, Islam and Hibba received psychological support from a local NGO to deal with their loss and the traumatic experience of the attack. After a while their family noticed they started to recover and were able to interact again with the people around them.

Iman’s oldest son, Majd, says the past three years have been very difficult for his family. “We were all scattered after the death of my mother. I was alive but I didn’t feel alive. It took me a long time to believe that she had died. I had a very close relationship with my mother as I was her eldest child.”

Majd was in his final high school year when his mother was killed. “I didn’t prepare for my exams as I was suffering a lot psychologically. I thought ‘even if I pass my tawjihi [final exams] my mother is not here to be happy for me’. I failed my tawjihi. I hope I can redo it again and succeed. My mom wanted me to be an educated person, to get married and to take care of my siblings. I hope that I can live up to her wish.”

His brother Basel also faced difficulties in finishing his high school exams successfully. “Before the death of my mother I used to get high scores but after her death my scores dropped. My tawjihi was a disaster but thanks to the help of my uncle, the brother of my mother, I made it and I am now in university. I’m studying journalism,” says Basel, holding one of his notebooks.

The character of New Year has been changed forever for the Abu Areeda family. “Before my mother’s death we used to be very happy on 1 January, have celebrations and visit people. Now we are all silent in the last hour of each year and on 1 January we don’t celebrate the New Year. We visit our mohter’s grave. We remember,” says Basel. Majd adds that “our sadness is not limited on 1 January and we miss her on all special occasions, like on Eid holidays. On those days I prefer to stay in bed and sleep all day.”

Since he lost his mother, thinking of the future makes Majd anxious. “I am afraid of losing someone else who is close to me. Now my father is the closest one and I am afraid something will happen to him. After the death of my mother I feel like I have a dead heart. When I laugh I feel as if I do something wrong, I cannot laugh when my mother is dead.”

Basel tries to look at the future with hope. The memory of his mother motivates him. “I think of the future quite a bit. I know my mother wanted the best for us so for the future I hope that I will be able to finish my study, find work, get married and to have a family and to be respected in the community. Nothing can compensate for my loss and sadness, having lost the most precious thing I hold in my heart, but I know what my mother wanted for us and that is what I will try to achieve.”

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

The series of narratives:

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