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Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Buddy

My dog, Buddy, he is a small white lovely dog, most of the time playing and jumping around, barking with his soft voice, running after street cats if they dare to enter the home. He is a courageous dog. But not when there is bombing, he has no courage, not at all, he’s not a coward, but he is afraid of the bombing, who isn’t??

He is always able to hear the bombing moments before us, he runs toward me or Abeer and hides behind us, and if we lay on the bed at night he jumps over our heads and rounds his body around my head or Abeer’s head and starts trembling and breathing fast as if he had been running for hours. Nothing can calm him, his body becomes very tense, it’s not easy to move him away from my head. I feel helpless, don’t know what to do to release his fear.

Buddy, like hundreds of thousands of children in Gaza who are afraid, panicked, unable to express their feelings, no one is able to help them or release their fear. Their parents are also helpless. as they also feel afraid and panicked. Is there any end soon for this nightmare????

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

21st  October 2023

3.55 pm

Sitting in the street beside the front door of a neighbour’s who has solar panels. Since arriving in Nuseirat ten days ago I come to this neighbour bringing my laptop, my mobile and a power bank to charge them. He is a very gentle and nice man. In his front yard at his home, he’s installed several electricity cables and connections, on the ground you see many phones, small batteries, power banks connected to be charged, all the neighbours in the area bring their devices to be charged every day.

He receives people from 8 in the morning until sunset, three of his sons are serving people, receiving every one, helping as much as they can, very polite. What a wonderful solidarity.

I took my laptop, fully charged, and put my mobile on charge instead. I decide to wait half an hour instead of going home and coming back later. While sitting outside his door on the pavement, I wrote this.

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Friends

I called a friend today.  He moved from Gaza City to Rafah with his family.  Rafah is the last place in the Gaza Strip before you get to the border with Egypt.

‘How are you?’

‘I am ok’

‘The family?’

‘We are all ok’.

‘Where are you?’

‘At a school in Tel Elsultan in Rafah’.

‘Why in a school?  I can find you an apartment.  A friend of mine in Rafah offered to receive me and my family there.  He will gladly receive you.’

‘No. No thanks, I am good here.’

‘What are you talking about?  I know how people in the schools are.’

‘Don’t worry.  I’m fine here.  Many friends have offered me apartments but I’m staying here in the school.’

‘OK, my friend, as you wish. Be safe’.

End of call.

What a stubborn man!  He refuses help.  One day his pride will kill him!

Wait.  Why judge him?  Thousands of homes were bombed without warning.  Maybe he was afraid to go to a home that he doesn’t know.  Maybe he believed it’s more safe in the shelter-school.

These schools were designated as shelters in an emergency by UNRWA and the United Nations Humanitarian Affairs office in coordination with the Israelis years ago after the 2014 war.  They should be protected.

Yet, in Khan Younis, three days ago a bombing took place at the gate of one of these shelter-schools and five people were killed, twenty two people injured. Five days ago another shelters-school in Maghazi Camp was bombed and three were killed.

Anyway, each person is trying to survive in the way they think is best for them.

I called another friend, Majed, who has also moved from North Gaza to Khan Younis to another shelter-school.

‘How are you?’

‘I am good!’

‘How is the situation in the school?’

‘I am no longer there.  I came back to my home in Gaza.’

‘What?! But it’s very dangerous.’

‘Whatever.  It’s much better than staying in that school.  4000 people in a very limited space, women and children are squeezed inside 22 rooms.  Men are on the ground in the front yard of the school, queues waiting to use the very dirty bathroom, no water, no food, no electricity, no light at night, no privacy, lots of tension, people fight and argue over anything.  I can’t tolerate this life.  Here I am at my home and I’m not going anywhere. If I survive, I survive.  If I die let it be with some dignity.’

I could say nothing but: 

‘Be well, my friend, stay safe, hope to see you soon’.

He was outraged when he was speaking, I can understand.

Another friend, Jaber, he went to Egypt two days before the war.  He couldn’t come back as the border with Egypt is closed.

His extended family moved from east Khan Younis to take refuge at his home in Gaza on the second day of the war.  A small apartment with 32 people: old mothers, women, young people and little children.

The third day there was a bombing of a home, on the other side of the 20 meter wide street from his home, while his family were inside.  The whole front of the house was completely destroyed. Like a miracle, not one of his family was dead or injured.  I am unable to realise or imagine what he would feel or think.  Can any of you?

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

20^th October 2023

I’m walking towards the market.  Abeer’s cousin lives there and has internet access.

Walking – no fuel anymore in my car, and, of course, no fuel at all in the gas stations

as quantities entering Gaza from Israel (like all the goods from Israel) are limited and never enough for more than just one week.  It’s part of the blockade and collective punishment against Gaza.

Walking and trying to find any vehicle to give us a ride.

After 10 minutes walking, a big van stopped and took us with him.  He was a

gentle man.  In the van there was a woman sitting in the back seat, she was also being provided a ride by the van owner.

About 100 metres from the market, near a shelter-school in a narrow side street leading to the main road where the market is – a big explosion behind us.  A huge black smoke cloud rises to the sky.  The van trembles, dust fills the car.  The driver stops,  many people start to run out of the school,  As we leave the car, another big explosion in front of us, much closer, same wave of smoke and fire, people screaming, shouting, crying, running…I don’t know where to go, confused…

Shall I go back? Shall I continue? Maybe the market would be safer, as thousands of people are in the street there.  Safety??!!!!

Immediately another explosion to the west side, and much closer to us, rubble above us, many people fall on the ground, some people injured by the flying rubble.  I was beside the wall of the school.  I could not breathe.  Nizar, Abeer’s cousin, is selling tomato and onion in the market, could not think,  ran like hell toward where he is located, absolutely stupid move, absolutely not rational. Who is rational in this mad war?  Who is rational in this slaughter house, yes, it is a slaughter house.  The Israeli butchers are using every single minute to slaughter like sheep as many Palestinians as possible, before the world wakes up.

The bombing was on a side street off the main market street, rubble, sand, mud, broken glass everywhere.  The dust cloud was still in the sky, making the noon-time light look like sunset,  yes, it is a sunset, no light in our life.

Arriving at Nizar’s spot, all his merchandise full of dust and sand, Nizar as well.  He is OK,  he has a small cut on his hand,  never mind,  he is alive.

I thought to call Abeer, so she won’t worry for us.  She was OK,  She didn’t think these bombings were near us.  We hear bombing every minute.  We have no access to news, we can’t know what is happening or where the bombing is taking place,  there is no way. That’s why Abeer heard the bombing and continued whatever she was doing, as usual.

I decided not to tell her what happened.  And went back home walking.

Walking is not the same as driving.  While driving I see on both sides of the road 

destroyed houses, many destroyed houses and, every day, newly destroyed houses.

While walking it’s different,  I see these houses much more closely, I see more details than I can see while driving,  I see how  buildings of 3 or 4 floors are crushed on top each other, ceilings attached to the ceilings below, with people’s furniture and belongings spread over the street,  some houses are cut in half,  Could see half a bed, part of a kitchen, a bathroom with private clothes all around, books, school bags torn and full of dust.

The majority of these houses were bombed full of residents, many were brought out dead,  maybe many still are dead under the rubble as there are no machines to remove it and reveal what is beneath.  What a destiny, what a way to leave this unjust world!

Finally at home after 25 minutes walking,  did not buy anything today from the market,  we will manage with what we have at home for today.

Ending this episode with some good news from my daughter, Salma, in Lebanon, where she is studying for her Masters degree,  the university granted her a full tuition scholarship.

Hossam Madhoun

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

In the market again

Thursday 19th October 2023

At 9am moving toward the UNWRA clinic with my wife to co-ordinate and distribute the available assistive devices, dignity kits for women, crutches, and wheelchairs for the people we identified yesterday in the four shelter-schools.

Arriving at the market, no day is like any other day, each day is different.

In the market there is a huge crowd.  The people are the same, gloomy faces, heads down.  Some changes have happened.  People are not in a hurry anymore.  People are walking like zombies.  People are walking as if with no purpose.

While walking like all the others, a man bumped into me.  My reading glasses, which I hang at my chest, attached to my shirt, fall on the ground and break.  The man continues walking without saying anything, not even looking back to see who he bumped into.

My plan was to arrive at the UNWRA clinic, leave Abeer there and go to get some shopping. Now a new item on the list, reading glasses.  How can I read or write without them?

Anyway another item to buy today beside bread and vegetables, maybe a chicken if I find one.  No fruit in the market of any kind at all.

On Tuesday at 4.30am the Israeli air force struck one of the only two bakeries in the camp.  Nine people killed in the bombing, the workers there were working and preparing as much bread as possible.

The line waiting at the bakery has doubled. There were a few hundred people, 50 metres along the side of the street.  Now the people in the line are countless.

Forget about bread.  It will take half a day to get enough bread for one day.  You can’t buy the quantity you want – limited quantities allowed so every one can get some.

What to do?  I will buy bread flour and cook at home.  But how?  The same way our grandparents used to do 80 years ago in our homeland in Almajdal  (which has now become an Israeli city called Ashkelon).  On a fire!

Luckily my in laws are living in a semi-rural area.  We can find wood for a fire.  Don’t know how long it will last, but let’s plan day by day. 

Went to all the supermarkets and grocery stores looking for bread flour.  There is none. Nil.  Nothing.

A few hours passed and I see a man carrying a bag of 30 kilos of bread flour.  I ask him where he got it. 

‘Albaba Supermarket!’

‘Where’s that?’

‘In Bureij Camp!’

Bureij Camp is also in the middle area of the Gaza Strip.  It is on the east side of Salahaddeen street while Nuseirat is on the west side, adjacent to the sea.

What a dilemma?!!  Going towards and along Salahaddeen road is not safe at all.  But there’s no choice.  I drove directly to Bureij.  The supermarket was in the middle of the camp.  Luckily there was still bread flour.  I bought 30 kilos.  The man refuses to sell me more, saying that other people also need it –  ‘I have my own customers and I don’t want to let them down if they come to buy’  Fair enough!

Back to the UNWRA clinic.  Abeer and her sister, who decided to volunteer with her, and some other colleagues were there after a long day in the shelters.  They were tired, exhausted, it was obvious.

I asked, did you eat or drink anything?

They said no.

I went to the nearby grocery and bought some juice and biscuits.  I was very hungry and thirsty as well.  While walking back I took out a biscuit and started to eat it when I saw a chid sitting on the pavement looking at me.  He looked poor with unclean clothes, barefoot.  I took a biscuit and offered it to him.  He didn’t want to take it at the beginning but I insisted and he took it.

I decide never to do it again.  I mean never to eat biscuit in the street.

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Don’t know what Day

I don’t know which day it is in this damn war 

Sitting at the desk of the UNRWA clinic in Nuseirat 

My wife decided yesterday that she can’t stay doing nothing, she is working for Humanity and Inclusion. They have a stock of assistive devices, medical supplies, wheel-chairs and similar things.

She contacted her colleague, Osama; he was already in the field looking for any extra hands to help. 

We went to the UNRWA schools where displaced people took refuge. 

We visited four schools to count how many disabled persons, pregnant women, old sick people, lactating babies, and the injured are in need of medical supplies.

The crowds in the schools were hell, more than 4000 people in each school.

The schools consist of 22 classrooms, 2 administration rooms and 12 bathrooms, with a front yard of about 120 meters squared. 

Inside the rooms, women and children were squeezed in

Men are all in the front yard, no one can imagine how they manage, if they manage?!!

No water supply, skin diseases start to spread like a pandemic.

We met the volunteers and those responsible for the shelter to get the information about the people in need and what types of need.  Hundreds gathered and surrounded us hoping that we can help to bring food or any other basic needs. Crowd, noise, 5000 people talk, scream, fight, argue at the same time in a very limited space, children crying, the smell is unbearable. 

In 3 hours, we gathered the needed information.

278 disabled persons, 

301 pregnant women 

167 lactating babies

77 injured in need of medical supplies 

198 old men and women in need of assistive devices, wheel-chairs, crutches and so on 

Back to the UNRWA clinic were Abeer’s colleague coordinated bringing all the stock from Deir Al Balah to Nuseirat. 

Abeer started the crosscheck with the UNRWA team to avoid duplication in the distribution. 

Osama arrived with a big truck full of materials, we needed to bring it down into the store of the clinic. It was me, Osama, Abeer, two female volunteers and two male UNRWA staff. 

Two hours to download the truck, we were all exhausted, it is late, darkness is in less than 45 minutes, absolutely dangerous to move at dark, we were really afraid, we decide to postpone the distribution for tomorrow. 

It is tomorrow when I am writing this. Osama arrived with a new truck needing to be unloaded. There is enough people to help, it is 11 in the morning. 

 

   

 

   

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Day 9 

9:52 pm 

On my mattress, alone in the darkness, using the light of my mobile, risking losing the battery,  hoping to finish putting what I have in my head on paper, yes, I am now rewriting what I already wrote on paper, as yesterday I succeeded in charging part of the laptop battery at the nearby mosque which has solar panels. 

Sitting on the mattress trying to recall what happened during this strange day.

Bombing from time to time, and the awful sound of the drone all the time above my head. 

At 10 in the morning, I went to Nuseirat market. 

Nuseirat camp is in the middle area of Gaza Strip where I took refuge with my wife and my disabled 83 year old mother after leaving my home in Gaza City looking for unguaranteed safety at my wife’s family’s home.

The camp has one main street cutting through the middle from Salahaddeen Road to the sea road.

The main market located in the middle of this street is about 200 meters in length, on both sides are stores, supermarkets, groceries, vegetable sellers, meat, chicken, home needs, clothes stores, second hand items, everything is in this market.  

Nuseirat camp has 35,000 inhabitants. Suddenly, within two days it received more than 100,000 people who ran away from the north and Gaza City seeking refuge and safety. The majority took refuge in the 13 schools of the camp, with nothing, absolutely nothing but what they were able to bring with them. No means of life, no food, no water, no beds, blankets, mattresses, carpets, nothing. Hoping that UNRWA and International Non-governmental Organisations would supply them with basic needs. 

I know Nuseirat camp, it’s always busy. It only consists of this street that is 200 meters long and 20 meters wide. 

Arriving at the market at 10:20 am. It’s only 5 minutes drive from the home of my father-in-law. 

What I saw? This is not the market I know! Thousands and thousands of people everywhere, men, women, boys, girls, old people, mothers carrying their children, all ages. Moving back and forth, left and right, going in and out of the stores on both sides of the street trying to buy some bread or basic items. 

Looking at the people’s faces, there is something wrong, not normal, the faces are very gloomy, men with their heads down, you feel immediately that they are broken, weak, defeated, unable to provide safety for their children, the first thing that fathers should be able to provide for their families, they’ve lost it. You walk between the people and you feel the fear, the panic, the despair, you feel the darkness they move through, it is daylight –  in the morning, and it feels very dark, darkness that’s turned into something material, something you can touch by hand. 

Everybody’s moving fast, you would think they are in a hurry to buy food or essential needs. But with a close look you realize they go fast wanting to hide their feelings of shame and fear, shame that they are not entitled to feel, but they do.  They want to hide their helplessness, their worries, their concerns, their anger and frustration. 

It is judgment day.

They left their homes not knowing if ever they will return again, the stories of their fathers and grandfathers, about the displacement and forced migration in 1948 and 1967 is flashing in their heads.  Palestinians lost their homes, their lands, and many lost their lives in that genocide. They are so panicked that it is a new genocide. Is this our destiny as Palestinians? Every once in a while, we should go through a new genocide???

Trying to focus. Why did I come to the market? Yes, I need to buy some bread and food. At the bakery a line of more than 100 people, it will take hours to get some bread. I asked my brother in law to get in the queue and I go to the supermarket to buy the other needs. 

Sound of nearby bombing, very loud. Every single person in the market frozen including me for a single moment, as if some one put us on freeze by a remote control, and then took it off again. People continue doing what they were doing, no one stops to know where the bombing is, as every 5 minutes there is a bombing. Hundreds of bombings every day, everywhere, stories of houses destroyed on the top of their inhabitants. 

We are cut off from the world, no internet, no radios, no TV, no news. We are the news, but we don’t know about ourselves, we only have mobiles that connect with difficulty after several attempts.  No one can catch up with what is happening. 

While collecting what I need in the supermarket, the mobile rang, it is my wife Abeer, she shouts: 

‘Come back now, Salma our daughter had a panic attack, she is weeping without control.’  

Salma our sole daughter is in Lebanon.

I drove back fast, took my brother-in-law without getting any bread,  

On the way home we saw an ambulance and some people gathering near a destroyed home, adjacent to the cemetery which is located between our home and the market 300 meters from each.

Two covered bodies lay on the side of the road, and paramedics were carrying another body bringing it beside the other two. 

We arrived:

 ‘What happen?’  I asked.

Abeer answered: Salma heard on the news in Lebanon that a bombing took place at a home near the cemetery, she knows that our home is not far away, she panicked, she thought that we might have got hurt. 

I called Salma. After at least 13 times trying to call and the call collapsing, Salma finally answered.

‘My beloved daughter, we are safe, it was away from us.’ 

It took me 5 minutes to calm her down. 

Me and Abeer are in Nuseirat, the cemetery was 300 meters away from her and 300 meters from me, yet we did not know what happened. My daughter, 270 kilometers  away in Lebanon, got the news about us before we did. They keep us in the dark. 

Well, enough for tonight, my mobile battery is running out and the pain in my back is not bearable any more.  

 

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Day 8 

Sitting doing nothing with a head full of horrible scenarios. My brother in law who also took refuge at our wives’ family in Nuseirat with his wife and 2 daughters is sitting on the ground talking on the mobile, checking the safety of his brothers who took refuge at a school some 2 kilometers away from us.

He asks: ‘Where was the last bombing you heard?’

:—–

‘Are there any dead people from the bombing ?’

:—–

‘Are you away from that place now?’

:——

He puts down the mobile, everyone starts asking him, ‘Where?, what happened? Who is the target? How many dead? Are they ok, your brothers?’ 

‘They are ok’, Mohammed answers. The bombing was near them, targeting a house, leaving 30 persons dead, men, women, children, babies. 

As they are all from Nuseirat they start to question whom it could be, the house of whom was bombed. I just sat there listening and watching. 

The drone in the sky is never silent, the noise is drilling inside my head. Sound of bombing far away. 

Suddenly Abeer took me out of my silence saying:  ‘You were dreaming last night! You don’t know what happened?’

‘What happened?’

‘You really don’t know?’ 

‘What are you talking about?’ 

‘You had a nightmare last night’ 

‘Me???!! Really?’ 

Note: all the family sleeps on the first floor, me and my mother sleep on the second floor. 

‘Yes, you did, you were screaming – mother, mother, oh my God, my mother, – Mohammed and his wife ran up thinking that something happened to your mother, you were asleep and your mother too, they tried to wake you up, but they couldn’t. You stayed asleep.’

‘I really don’t know what you are talking about.’

Anyway, no shame, this is the least that could happen to anyone in our situation.

Sound of bombing, not close but not far

After this story they all start chatting, darkness falls, we light a candle.

 

Hossam Almadhoun  

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Sixth Day of the war 

2:22 am 

What a coincidence!

How come it’s the same time as day 3? 

At 2:22am Abeer, my wife, is waking me up. I went to sleep at 1:45. 

‘What’s up?’

‘Get up and come and see this’

‘What?’

She shows me a message she received by mobile.  

The ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) sent their staff a message asking all of them to evacuate from the North of Gaza and Gaza City to the middle area of Gaza, as the Israeli army is planning to destroy the North.

Every resident in the two northern municipalities must leave between daylight and 2 pm 

What? Two municipalities out of the five municipalities to be completely destroyed, 1.1 million people to move out toward the middle and the south? 

The message came with a Gaza map showing areas to be evacuated. 

Due to the continuous bombing, many families in the building where we live are spending the night in the building’s basement, the building is 7 floors and contains 32 apartments. 

I put on some clothes and went down to see if anybody else received such a message.

In the basement, on a big carpet and a few mattresses, 8 men and 13 male children are asleep. 

I woke up one of the neighbours. I start chatting with him about the message. The rest of the men woke up, some start calling, in a few minutes the message is confirmed by several people, UN staff also received the same message.

What to do???

For more than 30 minutes every one is moving back to their flats, then coming back, some more neighbours gather, a question hangs in the air with no answer: what did you decide?

It is 5:30 in the morning, still dark, no daylight yet. 

I went back home to consult with Abeer. She is working for an international humanitarian organization, Humanity and Inclusion. She’s already received the same message from her NGO. 

Where to go? The second question hangs in the air without answer, what about my old mother who can’t move? what about our dog? What about our home? What is going to happen to our home? we spent 25 years of our lives working like hell to save enough money to have our own home. 

From 2:22 am until 6:30am we were unable to think straight. 

We don’t trust the Israelis, they commit massacres, they already did, many, and we witnessed it. We can’t risk staying here. 

‘Evacuation’ bags were already ready since the first day of the war on Gaza. We decide to move to the middle area, to Nuseirat camp to get refuge at Abeer’s family. Abeer’s family is already hosting her sister’s family (2 girls, father and mother) 

6:45 am while filling the car with extra stuff that we might need, Salma my daughter who is taking a masters degree in Lebanon was calling.  She received the news, she was panicked, weeping, we tried to calm her, no words could calm anyone in this situation, finally she understood that we are still alive  and we are moving. 

Salma is taking her masters degree in human rights and democracy, she studies IHL and IHRL (majestic abbreviations for very deep meanings) –  IHRL (International Human Rights Law)  IHL (International Humanitarian Law). Laws that can bring any criminals against humanity to accountability through the International Criminal Court. 

Yet these big words do not apply to every one. They can apply to weak, small countries, but never to countries of the West, and for sure, will never ever apply to Israel, no matter what they do

The military occupation of other nations is already a crime against humanity, yet Israel occupying Palestine for decades has never been questioned. 

Israel committed more than 5 wars on Gaza, killing thousands of people, men, women, children, destroying houses, buildings, schools, hospitals and yet, Israel is never held accountable.

Now and today Israel is practicing a genocide and ethnic cleansing of 1.1 million people, dispossessing them of their safe homes to face the unknown, and yet the world is watching, moreover it is justifying what Israel is doing.

More than 2500 killed including at least 800 children and 450 women and injuring over 8000 people, destroying thousands of civilian homes and buildings. Yet Israeli hands are free to get deeper in our blood. 

55 years I lived on this earth and witnessed nothing but violence, prison, death, blood, bombing, airstrikes, blockade, restriction of movement, no hope, no safety,  and why? Why all of this? Because accidentally, geographically I was born in Gaza. What guilt? What an accusation? Born in Gaza from the first breath labeled a terrorist by the Israelis, with a green light from the West to do what ever they want to us. 

6:55am the mobile is ringing, the son of my friend whose home was severely damaged 2 days ago due to the bombing of a nearby building. 

Answering the call: ‘Yes Yousif, tell me.’ 

Yousif: ‘We must leave now for Khan Younis. Since our home is damaged, we moved to the NGO where my father is working. And now I have too many people to move to Khan Younis. Do you have a place in your car for two or three people?’ 

I know that a big part of Yousif’s family moved to his home from Khozaa – a village east of Khan Younis which was heavily bombed in the first 2 days of the war. 

I could not give any other answer but yes. 

Talked to Abeer, we already filled half of the back seat with stuff to take with us, but we can’t leave my friend’s family without help, we start to reorganize our things by priority, we moved half of the stuff back to the house. 

7:25 am, on the move towards my friend’s home, my old mother in the front seat and Abeer with our dog in the back seat, freeing up space to take another two persons. 

My friend’s family were still packing, they are more than 25 persons in 2 big cars, they squeezed themselves into the cars. We took with us another old lady and a young man. 

Huge sound of bombing, not far but don’t know where.

Before we start moving, we had to discuss what road to take: which road would be safer? 

Gaza, 42 kilometers in length and 6 to 12 Kilometers in width is connected from the north to the south by only 2 main roads, the sea road which is exposed to Israeli navy shelling and Salahaddeen road which is also exposed to airstrikes and artillery shelling from the east. 

Not much time for big thinking, the chances of which is safer is 50 – 50. 

We start driving, the sea road, empty, very few cars passing by, some driving reluctantly and some driving very fast. From time to time we see destroyed buildings on the roadside by the sea, rubble blocking the road and we have to move around it from time to time. 

Looking at the sea, navy boats on the horizon, the old lady praying loudly, Abeer is trying to chat with the old ladies to calm them down, while our dog is completely silent, as if he knows that there is something wrong.  

Sound of bombing 

Our plan was to stop in the middle area, only a 14 kilometre drive but we can’t leave our friends, we continue with them to Khan Younis – 32 kilometers. We arrived safe. They asked us to stay with them and not to drive back as it could be very dangerous. It was an option, but there was not enough space, we asked around if we can rent a flat, but it was too late  –  thousands of families arriving before us from east of Khan Younis and many other places have filled every single corner of Khan Younis including schools, sports clubs, wedding halls, restaurants, NGO premises, every empty space was filled with new refugees. Another diaspora of Palestinians, another migration, another catastrophe. 

Sounds of bombing from many directions 

My mother is weeping with pain, more than one and half hours in the car, her body can’t tolerate it. 

We start our trip back to the middle area, Nuseirat camp, where my wife’s family lives.

Driving north and now many more cars coming from the north to the south, cars full of people and stuff, almost every car has mattresses tied on top. Some mattresses and blankets were falling off and we could  see them in the road from time to time. 

Sounds of bombing all the time 

9:42 am arriving at Nuseirat.  

Every one starts to empty the car, the food we brought from our fridge we had to throw away, meat and chicken were rotten as the electricity was cut for the last 2 days.

‘Do you have enough cooking gas?’ I asked as I know that they might not have. ‘We have some.’ ‘Do you have enough mattresses?’ ‘We have some.’ ‘Do you have enough drinking water?’ ‘We have some’.

Sounds of bombing do not stop. 

As the car is empty, I start moving, Abeer is shouting: ‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’ 

‘Back home to Gaza to bring what we moved back into the house. We won’t survive without it.’ I answered and moved ahead ignoring her screams of objection. 

I knew that driving back to Gaza could be a suicidal attempt, the Israelis wants us to move south out of Gaza not north back to Gaza. 

In less than 12 minutes I was at home, I believe I drove above 140 kilometers an hour, not out of courage but out of fear.

I filled the car with whatever I could fill it with, water bottles, mattresses, blankets, 2 cooking gas cylinders of 12 kilograms each, even the biscuits I saw in front of me I took, I believe involuntarily, thinking about the children there.   

While writing,  sounds of bombing and drones all the time. 

Now it is the second day at my father-in-law’s home, 

Don’t know what to do, trying to call our daughter in Lebanon from time to time, no internet, no electricity, water is running out, it might be enough for the coming 3 days with very rationed use. 

Bombing continues. 

Hossam Almadhoun 

Note: these Messages From Gaza Now were edited and corrected by Ruth Lass and Jonathan Chadwick after Hossam in Gaza, Salma in Beirut and Shouq in Gaza sent them to us. They were read in two events at P21 Gallery London on Tuesday 24th October 2023 and on Tuesday 7th November 2023.  They were read by the following artists: Ruth Lass, Laura Percival, Laila Alj, Iante Roach, Harriet Walter, Giovanni Bienne, Nadia Nadif, Hilary Dawson, Waleed Elgadi, Maysoon Pachachi, Joe Rizzo Naudi, Lara Salwalha, Zainab Hasan, Charles Furness, Zia Ahmed, Enyi Okoronkwo, Saeed Taji Farouky, Sofia Aser.

Hossam Madhoun in Gaza

Third day of the war 

2.22 am 

Trying to sleep

Don’t know how, bombing all the time, sounds of bombing mixed, sounds of bombing far away, sounds even further away, sounds not far away but not nearby, sounds nearby but no impact on the building, sounds very nearby and the building is shaking, the windows want to move out, but something, I don’t know what, is holding them in place. Maybe with the next bombing they won’t hold in place and blow broken all at once, but so far, not yet.

After three days with the same horrifying atmosphere, no sleep, my eyes are falling closed. Yet my head is shaking me to keep awake, never knowing what will happen, never knowing if the next bombing will get us, or force us to evacuate like thousands who have already evacuated their homes. 

We’ve prepared an ‘escape’ bag, but the scenario of evacuating is a nightmare. With my disabled 83 year old mother in a wheel chair, my terrified dog, but of course with my strong wife.

But we haven’t prepared yet where to evacuate to. Where to go? Choices are zero. Any movement toward any other family members in other cities is already a suicide attempt. Nearby, friends are already hosting many of their family members. Maybe staying inside the car would be an option? We really don’t know. 

Yes, I started with trying to get to sleep. Ok, again trying to sleep at 2.22 am. 

I think I succeeded. At 4:37am my wife Abeer was calling my name, I heard my name as if it came from a far distance, again Abeer is calling my name. ‘What?’ I said, still keeping my eyes closed.  

‘There is knocking at the door’. I open my eyes, I see nothing, complete darkness. No electricity, no stand-by generator, no slight light from the street. Dark. 

I said : ‘There is no knocking’. She said: ‘Listen’. I listened. There was soft knocking at the door. Took my mobile, opened the torch option and moved toward the front door. The soft knocking continued. 

• ‘Who is it?’ 
• ‘Saleh’s mother’ (our neighbour from the fifth floor) 
• (Without opening the door) ‘What’s up Om Saleh?’
• ‘It is Salma your daughter in Lebanon, she was trying to reach you for hours, and when she could not, she called my niece in Jordan who called me, asking to reach you, she is so panicked as you do not reply’. 
• ‘Thanks, Om Saleh’

Trying to call Salma, it is impossible, no internet, no mobiles since 11 pm last night when the Israeli air force bombed the telecommunication company.

Salma, our sole daughter, who is away from us for the first time in her life, in Lebanon since a month ago, for her Masters degree. I get very frustrated, I must find a way to contact her, to cool her, I know she will collapse if she doesn’t hear from us, she has already thought about leaving her Masters and coming back to be with us. 

Bombing continues while this is happening, the dog sticks to me out of fear, my mother wakes up asking to go to the rest room. And I am trying to think what to do? 

Trying to call Salma by mobile, all calls failed. 

I went down to the basement of the building where at least six families from the upper storeys of the building took refuge. 

I asked if there is any alternative way for internet or communication, they say, ‘no we all lost this privilege’. 

The building guard said: ‘If you go out of the building you might get a signal.’ 

Going out?? in this dark?  In the street? While there’s bombing every single second and no one knows where it’s happening and what the targets are? 

It took me zero time though. I moved out away from the building in the direction the guard told me to go, trying to call, failed, moving further and trying again, failed, moving and trying again, after at least 17 times, the mobile rang at the other end. Salma, yes, finally. She said nothing. She fell into deep crying, I understood, I could imagine what she went through during these hours without reaching us. I let her cry, I wanted very much to cry, I could not, I should not. 

‘What’s up Salma, we are ok, we are alive, you know communication is interrupted’. 

 I really don’t know what I said until she calmed down. 

Then she went to her University, and I went back, to think through with Abeer: if we had to evacuate, where to go????

It is 9:45 am. I’ve finished writing this post. 

 

Messages from Salma Madhoun in Beirut to Jonathan Chadwick in London

My family hasn’t had internet since yesterday, so we decided they would send me a text message every two hours to reassure me that they’re fine.  

Until I get the message, I’ll be vomiting up my organs out of terror. May Allah protect them and keep them safe.

Then later:

I feel guilty that I’m safe!

Then later:

I am thinking that the pigeons flying by my window are missiles that are about to murder me.

Then she wrote: 

There is no media coverage, more than seven journalists have been killed, there is no electricity, internet, helplines, or water, and all aid is forbidden from entering the Gaza Strip. Today, Gaza is more than just an open-air prison; it is also a locked area of genocide.

This aggression is not excluding anyone, not even children. I wonder how they are threatening such an aggressive occupation presence. Innocent people, civilians, women, and children are being killed in the worst ways possible. They’re seeing their families, and their beloved ones dying in front of them.

Healthcare workers see their family members’ dead bodies among the victims that they are attempting to help. Numerous hospitals in the Gaza Strip have completely stopped working due to bombing the actual hospitals, and even the ambulances have been targeted. This hostile occupation does not want the injured to be treated; their explicit purpose is to vanish the city and the civilians living in it. The Civil Defense and the Red Cross are unable to reach the massacres and are unable to help the amount of people who are exposed to this aggression. People are crying and asking for help under the rubble without any assistance.

Where is the international community that is seeking to implement the International Humanitarian Law? Why are the boot-lickers still scared, covering their eyes and keeping their mouths shut? What should move countries and the general will other than a wholesale slaughter??

I left Gaza a month ago to study for a Masters in Lebanon. This decision was difficult to make because anything can happen to anyone at any time in Gaza, but my parents backed me and I travelled to pursue a better education at an outstanding college.

And now I’m 300 kilometres away from my parents, but it feels like millions since returning to Gaza is nearly impossible. The distance heightens my sense of powerlessness, as I yearn to be with my family.

WHY DID I THINK THAT TRAVELING TO SEEK BETTER EDUCATION A GOOD IDEA? MEANWHILE MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE UNDER ATTACK AND MY DESTINY OF BEING UNDER THIS HOSTILE OCCUPATION WILL NEVER LEAVE ME.