Author: admin

In the news / Not in the news 

In the news:

2 babies died due to dehydration and severe malnutrition in the north of Gaza.

18 bodies were collected from the streets of Bani Suheila after the withdrawal of the Israeli army, including 4 women and 7 children.

25 kg of bread flour cost 7000 Shekels ($2000) in Gaza City. 

The office of UN Humanitarian Affairs says that Israeli military operations have completely destroyed the agriculture and food production chain in Gaza.

More than 50,000 people are on the verge of starvation.

40 people are leaving Gaza for Egypt today. Each one paid $5000 to cross the border. 

USA officials: “Israel must make more of an effort to increase humanitarian aid to reach Gaza.” (This is call number 100.)

The UK representative at the Security Council said: “Humanitarian agencies are unable to bring aid to civilians in Gaza. We urge Israel to allow more aid into Gaza.”

Bombardments on several places in Khan Younis, Rafah, Deir El Balah and the north of Gaza.

Local officials: 30 hospitals out of a total of 35 hospitals are out of operation in Gaza due to Israeli military operations.

A man died in a dispute over air-dropped aid in Gaza City.

 

Netanyahu: “I don’t know where Biden got the news about Monday’s ceasefire agreement.”

No humanitarian aid has reached Gaza and the north since 23^rd January 2024. 

Qatar foreign affairs minister: “The international community has failed to protect civilians in Gaza.”

The daily counting of Palestinian causalities: 76 killed and 110 injured during the last 24 hours.

Total number of Palestinian causalities since 7 October 2023: 29954 people killed and 70325 injured. 

112 people killed and 700 injured by the Israeli army while they were waiting for aid on the sea road northwest of Gaza city.

 

Not in the news: 

More than 1.3 million pupils and students have not received any kind of education for more than 5 months.

The complete absence of authority and the order of law encourages thieves to steal anything from homes and individuals, as well as humanitarian aid, cars and anything they can get their hands on. 

Gangs and thieves of humanitarian aid control the market and manipulate the prices.

The local authorities and the police do not control anything. In the absence of a system of law, some police have begun to take the law into their own hands. The police have killed at least 56 thieves since early January.

The police appear from time to time in the market bringing with them groups of thieves (most of them young men) and they beat them heavily with sticks, leaving them with broken arms and legs.

There are thousands of children everywhere in the streets with miserable clothes and no shoes, begging for food.

There are hundreds of stories of rape and sexual harassment in shelters and in tents.

Stories of killing with a history of revenge almost every day.

 

Thieves broke into a home and killed the homeowner in front of his children and stole what they wanted from the home.

Air-dropped aid has led to disputes over food with people shooting at each other.

There are allegations of corruption in food aid distribution in many local organisations.

Drivers for UN agencies and municipalities are stealing fuel and reselling it in the market for 20 times the original price. 

To travel out of Gaza, each person must pay $5000 – $7000 for the so-called coordination to get out of Gaza. 

All the trucks carrying aid from the Rafah Crossing to inside the Gaza Strip have broken windows because people stone the trucks to force them to stop. Then they jump on the truck and steal whatever they can (this has become a phenomenon of organized crime).

Local merchants guard their trucks with gunmen, who open fire if ever anyone tries to steal anything. Many people have been injured and several people killed during the last 2 months. 

On a main street in Rafah in daylight, a man and his wife in their car were stopped by gunmen, who forced them to leave the car. They stole their belongings and the car. The looters were not even masked. 

My colleague Wala’a Saada was killed yesterday in a bombing of a mosque. She lived with her parents in a tent nearby the mosque. Wala’a is number 5 of my colleagues who have been killed since the start of this genocide.

I am afraid for my life and for my wife’s life. 

27 February 2024

Unaccompanied child 

Today at 9:25 I received a phone call from a colleague from the Norwegian Refugee Council asking for immediate intervention for an unaccompanied child. She said, 

“There is a child left at Yibna school.” 

According to what she heard; he was brought to the school by the ICRC. 

“This is an absolute urgency!” 

I tried to get more information, but my colleague had nothing but a name and very limited information. The boy had been completely alone in the streets for 11 days, having left Shifa hospital in Gaza more than a month ago. His parents were killed there. He is very skinny, and it is believed that he has severe malnutrition. 

I have a staff member, a counsellor at Yibna school, who I tried to call. But since the war started on Gaza, communications have been very difficult. I could not wait. Yibna school is 20 minutes walking. As I walked, I kept trying to reach my colleague. I arrived at the school-turned-shelter in 15 minutes, went directly to the management office, and introduced myself as a child protection officer from the MA’AN Development Centre. Luckily, they knew of me and my work. 

I did not need to ask about the child, he was there in the room, sitting on a chair eating some rice and cooked beans. He was eating as if he had never eaten before, eating as if it might be the last time he would eat. I moved my eyes away from him, did not want him to feel that he was being watched. 

I addressed the shelter manager: “Did you call the child protection officer at the Ministry of social development?”

The manager: “Should we?” 

“This is the only thing you should do. The Ministry is responsible for unaccompanied children; they will bring him to the SOS Village.”

I called the child protection department, and Mr. Attaf, the shelter manager, told them about the child. They will send a female child protection officer in minutes. 

The child finished eating and started staring at the ceiling. I got close to him. 

“Hi, my name is Hossam.”

He moved his head down slowly, looked at me and said, “I am Ahmad.”

“Where are from, Ahmad?”

“From Gaza.”

“You are alone, where is your family?”

“They are dead.”

I stopped, I could not ask anything more.  The child was speaking flatly, with no feelings, no reactions. 

“How did you get here?”

“They were shot dead.” 

Silence… 

“We left Shifa hospital by the sea road, they shoot at us, my mother, my father, my older brother, people ran everywhere, I ran, I ran, I ran!”

Silence…

“Do you have family in Rafah? Uncles, aunts?”

He looked at me, then looked at the ceiling, not speaking for a while. I kept waiting, not talking. 

“I slept in the streets, in Nuseirat, in Zawaida, in Dir Al Balah. I was afraid, I am not afraid anymore, I am cold.”

“I will get you a jacket now, and shoes.” (He was not wearing shoes, his feet looked very dark, almost black. I hope it is only dirt and not something else…)

“Listen, a good lady will come now from the ministry. She will take care of you. Is that ok?”

Silence…

“Ok.”

“Do you feel any pain?”

“Yes, my head, my legs, my stomach.”

 

“Don’t worry, we will take you to hospital for checkup. Ok?”

“Not Shifa hospital!”

“No, no, not Shifa hospital.”

“Ok.”

 

I really don’t know what this child went through. I don’t know how many days he was walking. I don’t know how many hours he walked. I don’t know what nightmares he had. I did not want to keep talking with him about it.

He lifted his head again to the ceiling. I was speechless. He needs a specialised psychiatrist, and I did not want to take the risk of asking wrong questions. 

“Do you want some tea, hot tea?”

He moved his head with a “yes” gesture. 

The manager of the shelter was clever, while I was talking with the child he went out and came back with a jacket and shoes. He gave them to me, and I gave them to Ahmad, who took them and started putting them on. No reaction, mechanical movements without any reactions. 

The Ministry child protection officer arrived, introduced herself, and showed her badge. I moved aside to give her the space to do her job. Then I left. 

Today I called the ministry to check on Ahmad, he has been taken care of. They took him to the hospital. He was, indeed, malnourished, and they gave him some supplements. Then he was brought to the SOS Village, an organisation hosting orphans and unaccompanied children. He is in good hands for the time being. 

They will start looking for any immediate relatives and try to integrate him into his own family, otherwise he will stay at SOS until further notice. 

To date, SOS has received 66 unaccompanied children. How many children like Ahmad are there who have not been reached and are now left alone? Who knows?

 

24th February 2024

Shrapnel – Splinters

Hossam wrote this piece as if it was Basil Marquosi speaking.  It accompanies these drawing that were sent at the same time.

Presentation – Basil (border)

Shrapnel all the way, splinters all the time; not only shrapnel, cutting people into pieces, not only splinters cutting buildings in half. People themselves are splintering. Life itself is splintering. Nothing is complete, nothing is perfect, everything is splintered. The human beings, the buildings, the streets, the trees, the tents, Human Rights. Life itself has become shrapnel, splinters and pieces. 

Who is going to collect back into one standing piece, a child who has lost his parents, a man who has lost his beloved wife, a mother who has lost her baby, or a worker whose source of livelihood was lost, or a patient who lost his hospital or a  factory owner whose factory was destroyed, or the owner of a house he built with years of sweat that now he sees in ruins?

All my life as a Palestinian, as an artist, I did my best to draw complete images. Today, with this genocide, I am trying to bring pieces back, shrapnel and splinters, to become a single complete image. Will I succeed?

Little dreams

22 February 2024

I don’t dream of going back home anymore; it is obviously impossible. Home is only 35 km from Rafah, but passing through the Inferno of Dante looks easier than reaching my home. So, I gave up this dream.

Meeting my daughter in Egypt is also another impossible dream. How can I secure $20.000 to pay the bribe for the Egyptians to let me out of Gaza with my wife and my mother? So, I gave up and I accept calling her by phone or via WhatsApp every few days.

I don’t dream of proper health treatment for my mother while the health system in Gaza has been systematically destroyed, and hospitals are barely able to treat the thousands of injured people. So, l accept treating her at home without proper examinations or blood tests, heart scans, blood pressure tests or chest X-rays. For the time being, she is better.

I don’t dream of waking up in my bed, going out to walk my dog, and returning to prepare myself to go to my job, my office. l accept living in an apartment with nothing but a mattress, blanket, some clothes, and a few kitchen items.

I don’t dream of planning a holiday out of Gaza with my wife and my daughter in the summer. Instead, I accept whatever comes, unable to take any decision in my life as life itself is not guaranteed at all.

My dream now is to see a ceasefire, an end to the killing, bombing frozen, and children’s fears of airstrikes and shelling behind us.

I dream to be able to secure our daily food, whatever food.

I dream of securing a tent in case we are displaced another time, because there is no other place to go any more, and wherever we go, we will need a tent.

I dream!! In fact, I don’t dream. I lost the ability of dreaming I lost a big part of me. Not death, but for sure, not a life. Just living through what comes and what I am forced to go through, day by day, uncertain of anything.

Uncertainty is the enemy of dreams.

Sleepless

20 February 2024

In every culture there are old phrases, sayings, tales, and stories. My grandfather used to tell us that there are 3 who cannot sleep: the one who is hungry, the one who feels cold and the one who is afraid.

I am sitting on my mattress unable to sleep, not hungry, not cold, but afraid, afraid of the war, afraid of what might come after the war and what life would be in Gaza after the complete destruction of civil institutions, schools, universities, associations, hospitals, roads, and infrastructure. Afraid of the anarchy which we start to witness nowadays in the absence of any kind of authority.

But also thinking of those hundreds of thousands of families, who have the same fear as mine, but also feel cold in the tents, cold without proper clothes, cold without blankets. Those who are trying to sleep while they have eaten nothing; real starvation is happening in Gaza City and the north. People have finished eating the animal food and now they literally eat the grass. How can they sleep? Are they really able to sleep? I believe the saying of my grandfather.

Like every day, I was walking in the street, I mean the market where you find thousands of street sellers, when a young girl of around 9 years old stopped me and asked me to buy a bracelet from her, a bracelet made of cheap beads, a small bracelet for a young girl. She said, “It is only 4 Shekels, but I will give it for only 3.” Another girl, younger than the first one, also tried to sell me a bracelet, saying, “It is worth 3 Shekels, but I will accept 2 instead” And from nowhere, a boy, even younger appeared with another bracelet asking for 3 Shekels.

I don’t have a young child; my only daughter is 22 and she is not even here in Gaza. But who can send away such angels, their begging eyes could move a stone. Normally I refuse to buy from children because I know that some fathers are using their children, or they are exploited by an older child. But nowadays, I know that everyone is needy. 

I smiled at them and asked if they were sisters and brother, or relatives. They said, no. I wanted to believe them. I took the bracelets and gave them the price they asked for. I am sure I will find three little girls who would be happy to receive these bracelets.

I will try to sleep.

Appeals

19 February 2024

“Mr. Hossam, I got your name from a friend; he told me you can help. We are a family of 11 people, with children and a sick father. We are at Tal Al Sultan in Rafah without shelter, please help us get a tent!”

“Mr. Hossam, I got your name from a friend; he told me you can help. I have been displaced for the fifth time, Jabalia to Gaza, to Burij to Khan Younis, to Rafah. I can’t feed my children, can’t feed my family, please help us with a food parcel or anything, please!”

“I got your name from a friend; he told me you can help. I am a widow living with my disabled father. We are in Rafah, we’ve got nothing, please help us! I urgently need a wheelchair for my father, I can’t move him alone!”

“I got your name from a friend; he told me you can help. We are several families living inside a store 6×3 meters: 37 people, old, children, women, men. We have nothing, we need some clothes for the children, some milk for the babies, please help!”

“I got your name from a friend; he told me you can help. I can’t find any blood pressure medicine. They told us you can get it for us….”

I receive at least 20 similar calls per day. People are desperate. I work for an NGO, we distribute food parcels, some tents, some plastic sheets to make tents, but our capacity is very limited and the demand, the need is so huge. Together, all of the UN agencies and international and national organizations are unable to meet more than 5% of the people’s needs. I really want to help, but who am I? What can I do for all those needy people, while I am also becoming one of them?

I have good connections with many organizations, and I share these demands with others hoping that they will help. But I know that hundreds of thousands of people are left without any help. I know this because I see it every day in the streets, in the tents, in people’s eyes, in the miserable appearances of men and women in the streets, in the sad faces of the children who are not dressed enough for this cold, in the children who walk without shoes, in the huge lines standing in front of bakeries hoping to get some cheap bread, in the thousands of street sellers who are trying to make some income from their few poor, simple goods, in the disputes among people over anything.

People are getting frustrated, angry, nervous, out of control, and who can blame them after all that they have witnessed and have lived through during the last 4 months of killing, destruction, torture, loss of homes and businesses, loss of loved ones, of genocide? 

Who can really blame them? Can you?

Scarface

18 February 2024

“See yourself for 1 shekel!” A child in the market is holding a 15cm² piece of mirror, calling people to look at their faces or to see their bodies for 1 shekel.

No, there are no mirrors to purchase in the market. With a million people in tents, with nothing, no means of life, a mirror is absolutely not something you would think to look for or to have when you don’t have food, water, electricity, milk or diapers for children, a washing machine or a fridge, a mattress or blanket, a door for privacy or a toilet, an oven to cook on or a plate to put your food on. A mirror is something you forget about, your look and appearance in front of others is not something that matters.

The boy is trying to make living by offering a very rare service, I have not seen my face since l arrived in Rafah, no mirror. I called to the boy, “Do you really make money out of this service?”

“Yes, many people want it, I make at least 30 shekels per day ($7.50)”

“Good for you.”

“You see that man?” (He pointed to a man 20m from us, walking the other away.}

“What about him?”

“He looked at his face in the mirror and he give it back to me, but he did not pay me anything, he just gave me back the mirror and walked away. I did not stop him. While he was looking into the mirror, I asked him, ‘What is that?’ He had a cut on his face from front of his head down to his chest, a long cut, ugly cut, not healed well yet, a very long ugly scar. I think it was from an injury or shrapnel. He looked at his scar and gave me back the mirror. I saw tears in his eyes, so I let him go, I did not ask for the 1 shekel.”

I did not comment. I took the mirror, looked at my face, it has gotten very skinny. I shave without a mirror, so some of the hairs on my face are longer than the rest, and my face looks like a scar. I did not cry. I gave the child 2 shekels and continued walking.

On the road

Going from Junaina area, east of Rafah where I live now, crossing the main road of Rafah, to Tel Al Sultan, west of Rafah, is about eleven kilometres, from the border of Israel towards the sea. The road crosses the main market. Stores are open on both sides, on the pavement on parts of the road and on the central island of the road, are thousands of street sellers.  No regular cars or taxis anymore.  Trucks, big vehicles usually designated for goods or animals, become the normal transportation. Each vehicle is full of at least 50 or 60 people, some sitting on the edge of the truck and many standing in the empty space in the middle. Like other people I use this type of transportation, taking my place I look around at the sellers in the street, the faces of the passengers on the truck, listening to people talk.

The majority of the talk is about when this war will end.  Will there be a truce soon? We’ve had enough. We’ve lost enough. A man gets frustrated.

A: Why don’t they kill us all at once? Why 200 per day?  Why 300 per day?  Why don’t they kill us all and finish our misery?

B: Believe me, they would like to do so. They dream of the day that no Palestinians remain in Gaza or any other place in Palestine.

C: It is all the fault of Hamas. Since they controlled Gaza we never saw a peaceful day.

D: Yes. What they did is not resistance.  The resistance that is the cause of this killing, damage and destruction is not resistance.

E:  Agree, but the Israelis are much more terrorists than Hamas.

B:  No doubt. The Israeli crimes against us have not stopped since 1948 and even before.

F:   Does anyone know where I can get or register for a food parcel?

G:  Many NGOs distribute them.

H:  You should know someone.  They’re all corrupt.  They steal all the aid and sell it to us.  Don’t you see these street sellers.  All that they sell is aid items.

I:  You are right.

J: Is there a distribution of bread flour by UNWRA? 

K: Yes, they are distributing for families of seven now.  

J: My family has five members.

K: You should wait then.  They might start addressing families of five members within the coming two weeks. 

J: How can we live?  What do we eat in these two weeks.

Silence.

A man sitting in the middle of the truck looks familiar.  I said:

‘Hi! Aren’t you the uncle of my cousins?’

Uncle: ’Yes, Hossam.  You forgot me’.

‘No, I did not but you’ve changed’

Uncle: ’The war changed us all.’

‘You are right’

Uncle: ’Where do you live now?’

‘I rented an apartment in Junaina.  You?’

Uncle: ’I’m in a tent in Tel Al Sultan. Did you know that Waleed, the eldest son of your cousin was killed?’

 

‘My god. I didn’t.’

Uncle: ‘How come?  He was killed more than a month ago now.’

‘Where? How?’

Uncle: ’In Gaza. He was out looking for bread flour, when he was targeted by a drone.  He was shot dead.’

‘I’m so sorry.  I lost contact with my brothers, sisters and cousins in Gaza months ago. May he rest in peace.’

Uncle: ’Take care of yourself and your family’

Then he asked the truck driver to stop.

Uncle: ’I’ve arrived at my destination.  Good to see you and hope to see you again.’

He left and left me sad and angry.  I have no words.  Yesterday I learned that the brother of my sister’s husband and his son were also killed, in Jabaliya. How many more people will be killed?

When will it be enough for the Israelis?  If they’re vampires they should have got enough of our blood.  Maybe it will never be enough for them until they see us all dead.

Not a diary, just statistics

16th February 2024

128 days of war on Gaza.

35,176 people killed and missing under the rubble or not reached yet due to military operations.

28,176 killed people reached the hospitals, among them:

• 12,300 children
• 8,400 women
• 340 medical staff
• 46 civil defence personnel
• 124 journalists

7,000 people missing, 71% of them children and women.

67,784 injured, 70% of them children and women.

11,000 injured in need of treatment outside Gaza – dangerous injuries in need of life-saving treatment.

10,000 cancer patients facing death due to lack of treatment.

700,000 infected by contagious diseases.

8000 infected with hepatitis due to displacement and malnutrition and unsafe water.

60,000 pregnant women are at risk due to lack of proper health treatment.

350,000 patients at risk of health deterioration or death due to lack of medication and proper health treatment.

2 million dispossessed people (internally forced displacement).

142 governmental facilities destroyed.

100 schools and universities totally destroyed.

295 universities and schools partially damaged.

184 mosques totally destroyed.

266 mosques partially damaged.

3 churches destroyed.

70,000 housing units totally destroyed (housing around 150,000 people)

290,000 housing units severely damaged (housing around 1,450,000 people)

66,000 tons of explosives hit Gaza.

30 hospitals are out of service because of the Israeli military attacks.

30 primary health care units are out of service because of the Israeli military attacks.

123 ambulances targeted and destroyed.

200 sites / buildings of architectural / historical interest – destroyed.

Hospital

In Rafah, there are no real hospitals, only four centres which are called hospitals, but are much less than a real hospital, a bit more like a primary health care centre. One of them is a maternity unit only.

Last night my mother got very sick again, with uncontrolled vomiting causing internal bleeding. It’s a nonstop vomit mixed with blood, comes out dark, the colour of coffee, with pain. It started at 6:25 in the evening, there was nothing to do, it was dark, fear, movement is very risky. No sleep at all, waiting for daylight. At 6:25 the next morning, I went to the nurse, the neighbour, who helped give my mother the medication through her veins. It’s happened twice since I arrived in Rafah, this is the third time. Normally as soon as she gets the medication, the vomiting stops.

I did not find the nurse at home, he is on a night shift at the hospital and he won’t be back before 10 am. I am in a strange city and I don’t know enough. But I know Abu Khaled Abdelal, I approached him, asking for a doctor or a nurse to help my mother. Immediately he called a friend, an old, experienced nurse, Abu Wasfi. In less than 15 minutes he was here, he did what should be done, he gave her the medicine in her vein. The vomiting continued; I thought it would take some time until it worked but it did not work this time. It was now 11 am, and she was still vomiting and bleeding. No choice, I must take her to the hospital. The hospital was not the first choice because we all know that due to the huge demand on hospitals, the huge number of injured people, and the collapse of the health system, doctors are obliged to prioritise to whom they give service. An 83-year-old woman will not be a priority.

I went to the hospital, entered the emergency room. It is so difficult to explain what it looks like. The emergency room is a hall of around 14 x 6 meters with 20 hospital beds. Hundreds of people in the place, all beds are occupied, many patients are on the ground, doctors and nurses are moving everywhere treating injured people and sick people wherever they are, on beds, on the ground, in the corridor. The floor is very dirty, needles, cotton balls and bandages full of blood, dirt, spilt water, making the place dirtier. All the while there are two workers cleaning, doing their best to collect whatever they can, yet the place is a mess. 

The noise is a mix of cries of pain, shouts of people calling doctors to take care of their beloved ones, talks, chats, electronic sounds of medical machines. After more than 30 minutes, I was finally able to talk to a doctor about my mother. She was in her wheelchair, and he walked with me while I was explaining her situation and what we gave her. He looked at her, and then approached a nurse asking her to take some blood from my mother for CBC and chemistry tests. Then he left, the nurse was busy with other patients and injured people, she came back after 20 minutes, checked my mother’s blood pressure, and she inserted the cannula in her vein, took the blood sample and asked us to take it to the lab. The doctor came back 20 minutes later, he checked my mother’s chest, and he asked the nurse to give my mother some medication through a vein. 

After 2 hours, the blood test results came back, there is inflammation in her blood, we need a specialised doctor to decide the right medicine. They ask us to wait until he comes; they said he will be there in 10 minutes. One and a half hours passed, and no one showed up. I kept asking about the doctor who was supposed to check on my mother, but no one had any answer, they don’t know, maybe he is in another section, maybe he left. I searched for him in all the hospital sections but could not find him. All this time my mother was becoming weaker and more tired. She wanted to leave, she could not stay in the wheelchair anymore, it was so painful after more than 3 hours.

Finally, we decided to leave. My mother hadn’t vomited for an hour and a half, so we hoped for the best and decided to look for a private doctor tomorrow.

While I was there at the hospital, three injured people died; two were severely injured, and the third had internal bleeding, while the outside of his body was not hurt.

It is 9:32 pm, I am writing this piece and my mother is on her bed again vomiting and barely able to breathe.