If these words are my last from Gaza, tell my story

People bombed as they pray and aid workers fleeing for their lives — an Islamic Relief colleague* in Gaza describes the struggle to cling to hope as the death toll rises still further.

I do not know the number of deaths, today, but I am sure the death toll has risen again. Earlier in this crisis, people talked loudly about the devastation being inflicted in Palestine, but now those voices are quieter, and only silence greets the growing death toll.

We Palestinians feel we have been left behind. We feel alone. We feel that our lives are seen as less valuable than others’. We feel exhausted with this brutal war. We have had enough. We are people of faith who always thank Allah (SWT), but we are sincerely praying for an end to this. Everyone has sustained their share of loss, injury, death, and displacement. Nobody can tolerate any more.

We need an end to this war.

I know my words reach only a small audience, but I hope you can spread the echo of my cry for help — my plea for everyone in the world to call for an end to the war. Please, my readers, do what you can to stop this madness.

Islamic Relief colleagues forced to flee for their lives

I am writing these words after hearing about a new airstrike in Khan Younis that killed around 100 displaced people. They had been living in tents after losing their homes, their loved ones, and their livelihoods. They were ordered to evacuate their homes. They did. They were expected to do without proper food, water, and sanitation. They did. The international community said they would protect them. They did not.

This strike comes just couple of days after an Israeli land operation in Gaza City’s Tal Al Hawa and Al Remal neighborhoods. I’d spoken with colleagues in the city to plan media coverage of Islamic Relief’s work there. The team had just settled and started operating again, but in the blink of an eye, they had to run for their lives, not knowing where to go.

It was difficult to reach my colleagues by phone, but I finally got through.

“I have to return to my house, despite the destruction,” one colleague told me, describing his efforts to remove rubble from his apartment. “We do not have water and the sewage network is destroyed and there is no electricity. I am trying to make one room suitable to sleep in.”

He told me that most of the things in his home are damaged, and his clothes have either been stolen or torn by explosives. I heard that his children are trying to find a safe spot to stay the night. I do not think he is okay. We used to have great times together in his house. His wife made wonderful mahshy — we enjoyed the spicy stuffed vegetables when he invited us for dinner. But now I’m sure they can barely eat.

How many more bodies until this nightmare ends?

I ask myself, why is this happening to us? What have we done? We were just trying to live a normal life: I wanted to learn to swim. I planned to lose weight. I liked reading novels — I wonder what happened to the bookshop? Why must we live in this hell? Is it just because we are Palestinians? What if we were suffering not at Israel’s hands, but another’s? Would the world take the same position? Would the world accept the killing?

I read that Israel targeted a place of prayer set up by young people next to a ruined mosque in Gaza City. They spread rugs, added Qur’ans, and prayed. 15 of them were killed performing Al Duhr (noon) prayer.

I have no more words.

Maimed by sorrow and loss

We Palestinians are maimed by the sorrow and loss that we endure. How many more deaths do we need to stop this war? How many more beheaded bodies of children and mass graves? What are you doing, my dear world?

Alhamdulillah, all my Islamic Relief colleagues in Gaza in the south and the north are okay, but who knows for how much longer: at any moment, we could become the next casualties of this crisis. We go to work every day, leaving our children and our families, risking our lives to help vulnerable people survive. We try our best to help, although the ecosystem around us is barely functioning.

My young son now wants to come to work with me on a daily basis, because he is afraid to leave my side. Losing a child or another family member is one of my worst fears. I can’t imagine that life. I do not want to think of this.

My mental health is poor. I do not know what to say anymore; I am not thinking straight. The scenes that confront me every day are sucking the life from me. If these are my last words to you, please tell the world our story. Tell of the Palestinians who loved life, who taught resilience, and who just hoped to live simple, normal lives.

Please help Islamic Relief support people in desperate need in Gaza: Donate now.

*This blog is anonymized to protect the safety and security of our colleague and others mentioned. Read the other blogs in this series here.

Editor’s note: This blog was submitted amid a fast-changing and deepening crisis. The information was correct as of Monday, July 15, 2024.