Hossam Al Madhoun, actor and director of Theatre for Everyone in Gaza
10 October 2023, 2.22 am
Trying to sleep
Don’t know how, bombing all the time, the sound of the bombings mixed, sounds of bombing far away, sounds almost far away, sounds not far, but not nearby, sounds nearby but no impact on the building, sounds very nearby and the building is shaking, the window wants to blow out, but something, I don’t know what, is holding it in place. Maybe in the next bombing it won’t hold in place and blow broken, but so far not yet.
After three days with the same horrifying atmosphere, no sleeping, my eyes are falling closed. Yet my head is shaking me to keep a wake, never know what would happen, never know if the next bombing will hit us, or force us to evacuate like thousands who have already evacuated their homes.
We prepare a run-away bag, but the scenario of evacuating is already a nightmare. With my disabled 83 years old mother in a wheelchair, my terrified dog, and of course with my strong wife.
But we did not prepare yet where to evacuate? Where to go? Choices are zero. Any movement toward any other family members in other city is already a suicide attempt. Nearby friends 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 sleep, ok again, trying to sleep at 2.22 am, I think I succeeded to sleep, as at 4: 37 am my wife Abeer was calling my name, I heard my name as it comes from far distance, again Abeer is calling my name, what? I said, keeping my eyes closed.
There is knocking at the door. I open my eyes, I saw nothing, complete darkness. No electricity, no stand-by generator, no slight of light from the street. Dark. I said there is no knocking, she said: listen, I listened. There were soft knockings at the door. Took my mobile open the light option and moved toward the home door. The soft knocking continues:
– “Who is it?”
– “Saleh’s mother” (our neighbor at the fifth flour)
– Without opening the door, “what’s up Om Saleh?”
– “It is Salma your daughter in Lebanon, she was trying to reach you since hours, and
when she could not, she called my niece who is living in Jordan, who called me back
asking to reach you, she is so panic as you do not reply.” – “Thank you, Om Saleh.”
Trying to call Salma, it is impossible, no internet, no mobiles since 11 pm last night when the Israeli air forces bombed the telecommunication company.
Salma our sole daughter whom away from us for the first time in her life, in Lebanon since a month for her master’s degree, I got 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 already thought to leave her master and come back to be with us!
Bombing continues, while this is happening, the dog is stuck to me with fear, my mother woke 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 were at least 6 families from the upper stories of the building took refuge.
I asked if there is any other alternative way of internet or communication, they said, “no we all lost this privilege.”
The building guard said, “if you go out of the building you might get signal for the mobile.”
Going out?? in this dark? In the street? While bombing every single second and no one knows where it happens and what are the targets?
It took me zero time though, I moved out away from the building to 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 side, Salma, yes, finally. She said nothing, she cries deeply. 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 interrupted.
I really don’t know what I said until she calmed down. She went to her university, and I went back thinking with Abeer, if we had to evacuate, where to go????
Day 6 of the war at 2:22 am
What a coincidence! How come at the same time as it happened on day 3, at 2:22am Abeer my wife is waking me up. I went to try to sleep at 1:45am
– What’s up?
– Get up and come to see this
– What?
– She shows me a massage she received by mobile: The ICRC sent their staff a massage asking all of them to evacuate from North of Gaza and Gaza City to the middle area as the Israeli army is planning to destroy all of it. Every resident in the town governorate must leave between day light and 2pm
What? Two governorates out of the five governorates to be completely destroyed, 1.1 million people to move out toward the middle and the south!
(Gaza map) showing areas must be evacuated
Due to the continuous bombing, many families of the building where live are spending the night in the building’s basement. The building has 7 flours with 32 apartments. I put on some clothes and go down to see if any other person received such a message. In the basement, on a big carpet and few mattresses, 8 men and 13 male children are asleep. I wake up one of the neighbors and start chatting with him about the message. The rest of men wake up, some start calling, in few minutes the message is confirmed by several people, UN staff also received same message. What to do???
For more than 30 minutes every one is moving to their flats, coming back, some more neighbors gathered, a question hanging in the air with no answer: what did you decide?
It is 5:30 in the morning, still dark no day light yet. I went back home to consult with Abeer. She works for an international humanitarian organization, HI (Humanity and inclusion), she already received the same message from her NGO.
Where to go? the second question hanging in the air without answer, and 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 spend 25 years of our lives working like hell to safe enough money to have our own home!? From 2:22am until 6:30am we were unable to think straight. We don’t trust the Israelis, they could commit massacres, they already have many, we witnessed it. We can’t risk staying here.
Evacuation bags have been ready since the first day of the war on Gaza. We decide to move to the middle area at Nuseirat camp to get refuge at Abeer’s family, who are already hosting her sister family (2 girls, father, and mother). At 6:45 while filling the car with extra stuff that we might need, Salma, my daughter, who is studying for a master’s degree in Lebanon called. She received the news, was in a panic, weeping. We tried to calm her; no words could calm anyone in this situation. Finally, she understood that are still alive and we are moving.
Salma’s degree is in human rights and democracy, she studies IHL and IHRL – majestic abbreviations for very deep meanings – International Human Rights Law and International Humanitarian Law. Laws which can bring anyone who commits a crime against humanity to accountability by the International Court of Justice. Yet these big words do not apply to everyone. They could apply to small weak countries, but never to the “Western” countries, and for sure will never ever apply to Israel no matter what it does. The military occupation for other nations is already a crime against humanity, yet Israel has been occupying Palestine for decades and has never been questioned.
Israel has committed more than 5 wars and military actions against Gaza, killing thousands of people; men, women, children, destroyed houses, buildings, schools, hospitals, and yet Israel has never been held countable. Now – today, Israel is practicing genocide and ethnic cleansing against 1.1 million people, dispossessing them of their safe homes, throwing them into the unknown. And yet, the world watches, and moreover justifies what Israel is doing.
More than 2500 killed including at least 800 children and 450 women and injuring above 8000 people, destroying thousands of civilian homes and buildings. Yet Israeli hands are free to get deeper in our blood.
For 55 years I have lived on this earth and have witnessed nothing but violence, prison, death, blood, booming, airstrikes closer, blockades, restrictions of movement, no hope, no safety, and why? Why all of this? Because accidently geographically I was born in Gaza, what a guilt! What an accusation! Born in Gaza and from the first breath labeled as a terrorist by the Israelis, with a green light from the West to do whatever they want to us.
It is 6:55am and 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 to 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 2 or three people?”
– I know that large part of Yousif’s family moved to his home from Khozaa, a village east of Khan Younis which was heavily bombed at the first 2 days of the war. I could not give any other answer but “yes!”
I 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 priorities of things and we moved half of the stuff back into our home.
7: 25 pm, moved toward my friend’s home, my old mother in the front seat and Abeer with our dog in the back seat, making free space to take another 2 persons. My friend’s family were still packing, they are more than 25 persons, squeezed into 2 big cars. We took with us another old lady and a young man.
Huge sound of bombing, not far but not knowing where. Before we start, we had to discuss what road to take, which road would be safer? Gaza is 42 km long and 6 – 12 Km wide. There are only 2 main roads going north to south with, one, the sea road, exposed to Israeli navy shelling, and the other, Salah Aldeen road, which is exposed to airstrikes and arterially 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 driving very fast. From time to time, we see destroyed buildings in the street side of the road, rubble cutting off the road and we must move around it from time to time.
Looking at the sea, navy boats in 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 at the middle area only 14 km driving, but we can’t leave our friends, we continue with them until Khan Younis 32 km, we arrived safely. Thay 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 space enough. We asked around if we can rent a flat, but it was too late, thousands of families arrived before us from east of Khan Younis and many other places, filling every single corner in Khan Younis including schools, sports clubs, wedding halls, restaurants, NGO’s premises, every empty space was filled with new refugees. Another diaspora for Palestinians, another immigration, another catastrophe.
Sounds of bombing from many directions.
My mother is weeping of pain, more than 1 1⁄2 hours in the car, her body can’t tolerate it. We start our trip pack to middle area and Nusairat camp were 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 of the it. Some mattresses and blankets were falling, and we could see them in the road from time to time.
Sounds of bombing all the time.
9:42 arrived in Nusairat. Everyone starts to empty the car, the food we brought from our fridge we had to through away, meat and chicken were rotten as electricity was cut for the last 2 days.
– “Do you have enough cooking gas?” I asked as I know that they might not. “We have some. Do you have enough mattresses? We have some. Do you have enough potable water? We have some.”
Sounds of bombing do not stop.
As the car was empty, I started to move it, Abeer is shouting, “What are you doing!? Where are you going!?”
– “Back home to Gaza to bring what we moved out. 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 want 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 km/hour, not out of courage, but out of fear!
I filled the car with whatever I could fit in; water bottles, mattresses, blankets, 2 cooking gas balloons of 12 kg each, even biscuits I found in front of me. I took, I believe involuntarily through about the children there. [don’t know what this means]s
While writing this there are sounds of bombing and drawn all the time.
Now it is the second day at my father-in-law home. I 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 rational use.
Bombing continues Hossam Almadhoun
DAY 8
Setting doing nothing with head of horrible scenarios. My brother-in-law who also took refuge at our wives’ family in Nusairat with his wife and 2 daughters. Setting on the ground talking over the mobile checking the safety of his brothers who took refuge at a school some 2 km away from us.
He asks? Where was the last bombing we heard?
Are there any dead people in the bombing?
You are away from the place?
He puts of 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 answered. The bombing nearby them, targeting a house, leaving 30 persons dead, men, women, children, babies.
(as they all from Nusairat they start to question whom it could be, the house of whom was bombed. I just sat there listening and watching.
The drawn 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 silent saying you were dreaming last night! You did not 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 at the first floor, myself and my mother sleeping at the second floor)
Yes, you did, you were screaming mother, mother, oh my God, my mother, Mohammed and his wife was running up thinking that something happens to your mother, you were asleep and your mother too, they try to wake you up, but you did not. You continue a sleep.
I really don’t know what you are talking about, anyway, no shame, this is the least could happen to anyone in such situation.
Sound of bombing, not close but not far
After this story they all start chatting, darkness fall, we put on a candle.
DAY 9
9:52 pm
At my mattress, alone in the darkness, using the light of my mobile risking losing the battery hoping to finish putting what I have on my head in the papers, yes, I am now rewriting what I wrote on papers as yesterday I succeeded in charging part of the lap top battery at the nearby mosque which have solar panels.
Setting at the mattress trying to recall what happened during this strange day.
Bombing from time to time, and the awful sound of the drawn all time above my head.
At 10 in the morning, I went to Nuseirat market.
Nusiarat camp in the middle area of Gaza Strip where I took refuge with my wife and my disabled 83 years old mother after leaving my home in Gaza city looking for unguaranteed safety years old mother at my wife’s family.
The camp had one main street cutting in the middle from Salah Eldeen Road to the sea road. The main market located in the middle of this street in about 200 meters length, in both sides’ stores, supermarkets, groceries, vegetables sellers, meat, chicken, home needs, clothes stores, secondhand items, everything is in this market.
Nuseirat camp which has 35000 inhabitants, suddenly, within 2 days 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 INGO’s would supply them with basic needs.
I know Nusairat camp, it’s always busy. It is only this street with length of 200 meters and 20 meters width.
Arriving to the market at 10: 20 am. It is only 5 minutes driving from the home of my father- in-law.
What I saw, this is not the market I know! Thousands and thousands of people every were, men, women, boys, girls, old people, mothers carrying their children, all ages. Moving back
and forth, left and right, getting in and out of the stores on both sides of the street trying to buy some bread or basic items.
Looking 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 to their children, the first thing that fathers should be able to provide to their families, they 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 day light in the morning, and it feels very dark, darkness that turned to be something materialistic, something you can touch by hand.
Everybody moving fast, you would thing they are in a hurry to buy food or essential needs. But with close look you realize they go fast wanted 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 deposition and force immigration in 1948 and 1967 is flashing in their heads. When Palestinians lost their homes, their lands, and many lost their lives in that genocide, they are so panic 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 waiting line and I would go to the supermarket to buy the other needs.
Sound of near bombing, very loud. Every single person in the market frozen including me for a single moment, as if someone put on freeze by a remote control, and then put it on again. People continue doing what they were doing, no one can stop to know where the bombing is, as every 5 minutes there is a bombing. Hundreds of bombing every day, everywhere, stories of houses destroyed on the top of its inhabitants.
We are cut from the world, no internet, no radios, no TV, no news, we are the news, but we don’t know about ourselves, only mobiles that connect difficultly 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 with no control.
(Salma, our only 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 by a destroyed home adjacent to the cemetery which located between our home and the market 300 meters from each.
2 covered bodies lay in the side of the road, and other paramedical carrying another body brining it beside the other 2.
We arrived, what happen, I asked,
Abeer answered: Salma heard in 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 got panic, she though that we might got hurt.
I called Salma, after at least 13 times trying to call and call collapse, Salma finally answered. My beloved daughter, we are safe, it is away from us. It took me 5 minutes to calm her down.
Me and Abeer are in Nusairat, thew cemetery is away 300 meters from her and 300 meters from me, we did not know what happen. My daughter 270 km away in Lebanon got the news about us before us. They keep us in the dark.
Well enough for tonight, my mobile battery is running out and the pain in the back is no longer bearable.
I don’t know which day it is in this damned war.
Sitting at the disk of UNRWA clinic in Nusairat. My wife decided yesterday that she can’t stay doing nothing. She works for the NGO Humanity and Inclusion, and she has stock of assistance material, medical supplies, wheelchairs and similar things.
She contacted her colleague Osama; he was already in the field looking for any extra hand to help. We went to the UNRWA schools where displaced people were taking refuge. We visited 4 schools to count how many disabled persons, pregnant women, old sick people, lactating babies, and injured in need of medical supplies. The crowd in the schools were hell, more than 4000 people in each school! The schools contain 22 classrooms, 2 administration rooms, and 12 bathrooms, with a front yard of about 120 square meters.
Inside the rooms, women and children squeezed in, the men are all in the front yard, no one can imagine how they manage, if ever they manage?!! No water supply, skin diseases started to spread like pandemic.
We met the volunteers and the person responsible for the shelter to get information about those in need and what types of needs they have. Hundreds gathered and surrounded us, hoping that we could help in bring food or any other basic needs. Crowds, noise, 5000 people talking, screaming, fighting, arguing at the same time in a very limited place, children crying, the smell is unbearable.
In 3 hours, we gathered the needed information: – 278 disabled persons,
– 301 pregnant women
– 167 lactated babies
– 77 injured in need for medical supplies
– 198 old men and women in need for assistance devices, wheelchairs, crutches and so on
Back to UNRWA clinic were Abeer’s colleague coordinated to bring all the stock from Dir Elbalah to Nusairat. Abeer started to cross check with the UNRWA team to avoid duplication in the distribution. Osama arrived with big truck full of materials which we (myself, Osama, Abeer, 2 female volunteers and 2 male UNRWAS staff) need to bring to the storeroom of the clinic. It took us 2 hours to download the truck, we were all exhausted, it is late, darkness is in less than 45 minutes, absolutely too dangerous to move at dark, we were really afraid, we decide to postpone the distribution for tomorrow.
It is tomorrow as I am writing this. Osama arrived with a new truck to be unloaded. There are enough people to help, it is 11 in the morning.
Thursday 19th October 2023
In the market again
Very close and continuous bombing, shaking our home. I really don’t know if we will survive this night.
The bombing was at Allzahra City, a housing complex between Gaza City and the Nuraisat refugee camp. 32 houses were completely destroyed. The city vanished. No one knows how many people were killed…
At 9:00 AM moving toward the UNRWA [United Nations Relief and Works Agency] clinic with my wife to coordinate and distribute what is available of assistance devices; dignity kits for women, crutches, wheelchairs for the people we identified yesterday in four shelters in schools.
In the market, huge crowds, people are the same, gloomy faces, heads down. Things have changed, people are not in a hurry anymore, are walking like zombies, walking as if they have no purpose.
While walking, a man bumped me and my reading eyeglasses, which I hang on my chest attached to my shirt, fell on the ground and broke. The man continues walking without saying anything, not even looking back to see whom he bumped into.
My plan was to arrive at the UNRWA clinic, leave Abeel there, and go to do some shopping. Now a new item on the list; reading eyeglasses. How can I write or read without them?
Anyway, another item to buy today besides the bread and the vegetables, and maybe a chicken if I can find one. No fruit of any kind in the market.
On Tuesday at 4:30 AM the Israeli air forces strike one of the only two bakeries in the camp, killing 9 people. Bakers were there working in order to prepare as much bread as possible.
Today the waiting line at a bakery has doubled in size. It had been a few hundred people about 50 meters long on the side of the street and now people in the line are countless. Forget about bread, it will be a half-day’s wait to get bread enough for one day, you can’t buy the quantity you want because quantities are limited to allow everyone to 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 is now an Israeli city called Ashkelon), on a fire. Luckily my grandparents (where we are staying) live in a semi-rural area, so we can find wood for fire. I don’t know for how long there will be enough, but let’s plan day by day.
Went to all supermarkets and grocery stores looking for flour, there is none. After a few hours, I saw a man carrying 30 kgs sac of bread flour, and I asked him where he got it. He said, the Albaba supermarket in the Burij refugee camp.
The Burji camp is in the middle of the Gaza Strip, on the east side of Sala Eldeen St. while Nusairat is on the West side adjacent to the sea. What a dilemma! Walking on or even crossing the Sala Eldeen road is not safe at all, but I have no choice. I drove to Burji, the supermarket was in the middle of the camp, and luckily there was still bread flour. I bought 30 kgs, the man refused to sell me more saying “other people also need some, I have my own customers and I don’t want to let them down.” Fair enough.
Back to the UNRWA 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 obviouly tired, exhausted, and I asked, “did you eat or drink anything?” They said no, so I went to the nearby grocery and bought some juice and biscuits. I was very hungry and thirsty, as well, and while walking back I took out one piece of biscuit and started to eat it, when I saw a child sitting on the basement looking at me. He looked poor with unclean clothes and barefoot. I took a piece of biscuit and offered it to him he did not want to take it at first, but I insisted, and he took it. I decided never to do it again, I mean never to eat biscuits in the street.
Friends
I called a friend today, who had moved from Gaza to Rafah with his family. Rafah is the southern-most city in the Gaza Strip bordering on Egypt.
– How are you?
– I’m OK.
– The family?
– We are OK.
– Where are you?
– At a school in Tel Elsoltan in Rafah.
– Why in the school? I can find you an apartment, a friend of mine in Rafah offered to receive me with my family, and he will gladly receive you.
– No thanks, I am good here.
– What are you talking about!? I know how people in schools are!
– Don’t worry, I am fine here. Many friends offered me apartments, but I am staying here in the school.
– OK my friend, as you wish. Be safe…
What a stubborn man, he refuses help, one day his pride will kill him… Wait, why do I 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 to be safer in the school shelter.
These schools were designed as shelters in emergency by UNRWA and United Nations Humanitarian Affairs office in coordination with the Israelis years ago, after the war of 2014. They should be protected, yet in Khan Younis 2 days ago, a bombing took place at the gate
of one of those school shelters, and five people were killed and 22 injured. Five days ago, bombs fell nearby another school shelter in Mghazi camp, and three were killed.
Anyway, each one is trying to survive in the way he thinks better for him.
I called another friend, Majid, who also moved from north Gaza to Khan Younis [5km/2Miles from the Egyptian boarder] at another school shelter.
– 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 is very dangerous!
– Whatever… it is much better than staying in the school. 4000 people in very limited space, women and young children are squeezed inside 22 rooms, men are on the ground in the front yard of the school, lines 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 everything. I couldn’t tolerate this life! Here, I am at home. I am not going anywhere. if I survive, I survive. If I die, then let it be with some dignity.
I could say nothing, but “be well and stay safe my friend. I hope to see you soon.” He was enraged when he was speaking, I can understand.
Another friend, Jaber, went to Egypt two days before the war and now he can not come back as the borders with Egypt are closed. His extended family moved from east Gaza to Khan Younis to take refuge at his home on the second day of the war, a small apartment with 32 people: elderly mothers, women, young people, and little children. On the third day, a home just in front of his, on the other street was bombed while his family were inside. The front of his home was completely destroyed, but miraculously, no one in his family was killed or injured. I cannot imagine what he must feel… can any of you?
This morning’s (day 15) post from Hossam Al Madhoun 20th October 2023, 10:30 AM
Walking towards the market where Abeer’s cousin is living and has Internet access. I am waking because there is no more fuel for my car and of course no fuel at all in the gas stations as gas, like all goods, enters Gaza only from Israel, and are limited and never enough for more than one week. It is part of the blockade and collective punishment against Gaza. I am walking with my brother-in-law, 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 gentleman. In the van there were women in the back seat who had also been given a ride.
About 100 meters from the market, near a school shelter and a narrow side street leading to the main road where the market is, there was suddenly a big explosion behind us. A huge black smoke cloud rises to the sky. Fhe van trembled, dust filled the car, and the driver stopped. Many people start to run out of the school! As we left the car another big
explosion in front of us, much closer, same wave of smoke and fire in that place, people screaming, shouting, crying, running, and I don’t know where to go! Got confused, shall I go back, shall I continue? Maybe the market would be safer as thousands of people in the street there! Safety???…
Immediately another explosion to the West side and much closer to us! Rubble above us, many people, many people fall on the ground! Some people injured by flying rubble. I was beside the wall of the school and could not breathe. Ahmad, Abeel’s brother, was selling tomatoes and onions in the market. Abeer ran like hell without thinking toward where his brother was located! Absolutely stupid move! Absolutely not rational! Who is rational in this mad war? Who is rational in this salutary house; yes, it is in a salutary house that Israel’s butchers are slaughtering as many Palestinian sheep, as fast as they can, before the world wakes up!
The bombing was in a side street off the main market street. Rubble, sand, mud, broken glass everywhere. The dust cloud was still in the air making the noontime light like sunset light. Yes, it is a sunset, no light in our life.
Arriving to Ahmad ’s spot, all his merchandise is full of dust and sand. Ahmed is well, he has a small cut in his hand, but never mind, he is alive!
I called Abeer so she wouldn’t worry for us. She is OK, she did not think that these bombings could be near us. We hear bombing every minute and we have no access to news, so we can’t catch up with what is happening or where the bombing is taking place. There was no way that she might think we were in trouble. That’s why when she heard the bombing, she continued whatever she was doing as usual. So, I decided not to tell her what happened and went back home walking.
Walking is not the same as driving. While driving I see destroyed houses on both sides of the road, many destroyed houses, and every day new destroyed houses. While walking I see the houses much more closely. I see more details that I can’t see while driving. I see how a building of of three or four floors is crushed with ceilings on top of each other, with people’s furniture and belongings spread over the street. Some houses are cut in half, and you could see half a bed, part of a kitchen or a bathroom with private clothes all around, books, school bags torn and full of dust. Most of these houses were bombed while full of residents, many brought out dead, maybe many still dead under the rubble. There is no equipment to remove the rubble and reveal what is beneath. What a destiny, what a way of leaving this unjust world!
Finally at home after 25 minutes walking. I didn’t buy anything today from the market, we will manage with what we have at home for today.
Ending this episode with some good news for my daughter Salma in Lebanon where she is studying her master’s degree. The university granted her a full tuition scholarship!
From Hossam Al Madhoun in Gaza 21st October 2023, 3:55 PM
I’m sitting in the street beside the front door of a neighbor, who has solar panels. Since arriving to Nusairat 10 days ago, I come to this neighbor, bringing my laptop, my mobile, and a power bank to charge them. He is a very gentle and nice man. He installed several electricity cables and connections on the ground in his front yard, and you can see many phones, small batteries, and power banks connected to be charged. All the neighbors in this area bring their devices to be charged every day.
He receives people from 8:00 in the morning until sunset, three of his sons are at the service of the people, welcoming everyone, helping as much as they can, very polite. What a wonderful solidarity!
I disconnected my fully charged laptop and put my mobile to be charged. I decided to wait the half-hour instead of going home and coming back later. While sitting outside the front door on pavement I wrote this:
My dog buddy is a small white lovely dog. Most of the time playing and jumping around barking with his soft voice, running after cats, if they dare to enter his home. He is a courageous dog, but not when there is bombing. Then he is not courageous, not at all. He is not a coward either, 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. If we are laying on the bed at night he jumps above our heads and wraps his body around my head or Abeer’s head and starts trembling and breathing fast, as if he had been running for hours. Nothing could calm him. His body would become very tense, not easy to move him away from my head. I feel helpless, I don’t know what to do to release his fear.
Buddy is like hundreds of thousands of children in Gaza who are afraid, panic-stricken, unable to express their feelings. No one can help them or release their fear. Their parents are also helpless, as they also feel afraid and panicky.
Is there any end soon to this nightmare?
Hossam’s journal continues… 22 October 5:07 PM
After a terrifying and dreadful night of bombardments and explosives all around us, never knowing when or where it could hit us, I had to focus on caring for my mother.
My 83-year-old bedridden mother has a 12-centimeter cut on the inside her stomach. She takes Nexium pills twice a day before eating to protect the lining. It doesn’t always work, once every two or three months she starts to have severe pain and continuous vomiting. When this happens, she stops eating and drinking anything, even water, because everything that enters her stomach is immediately thrown out with the pain. Sometimes it stops by
itself in two to three days, sometimes it gets worse when her esophagus becomes herniated due to the vomiting and starts to bleed. Then she vomits dark brown liquid from the internal bleeding. This is a red light and I know from experience that we must take her to the hospital. I know the process; they give her Nexium mixed with saline water intravenously. She must go to the hospital!
What hospital!? The one whose rooms have been completely destroyed, or the one which is receiving hundreds of injuries all the time? Who is going to be free for an old lady with stomach problems while there are hundreds in need of life saving intervention!?
I decided to go to the market and to the UNRWA primary healthcare unit to look for the items I needed to do the procedure at home: powdered Nexium, saline solution, canular, syringe, alcohol, and cotton.
Walking home from the market I see traces of last night’s bombing on both sides of the street; houses and buildings damaged or completely destroyed on the heads of residents who had no prior warning. Absolute massacre.
Passing by an olive orchard, pour olives, it is the cultivating season, and no one will cultivate the olives. This year’s olives will fall on the ground and dry and rot. The olive trees will dry, and all branches will fall and be spread around by the autumn winds. Birds and doves will not find olive branches to build their nests for future generations.
Suddenly, bombing very nearby, behind the olive orchard! Felt the bombing, the sound is very loud, a wave of hot wind passed over my body, moved me from my place. I stop and move close to the fence of the orchard. A few minutes later, I heard screaming, people crying and shouting. I moved fast, past the orchard and go the right side up a narrow street! At the end of the street a house bombed, people pulling out bodies from under the rubble. A small car passed by me very fast! The driver was blowing his horn, passed by me, and I saw for a single moment, in the back seat a woman holding an injured child, a girl maybe 7 or 9 years old, it was very fast, and I could not tell what type of injury or the exact age of the girl, but I saw blood and dust all over her body…
It is too much! I have had enough! I can’t continue anymore, 55 years old, full of violence, blood, death, agony, displacement, poverty, sadness, helplessness, despair… I can’t take it anymore! I have no days left in me for such a situation! No more, I want to give up! I mean it, I am really ready to leave.
At times like these days in war, like those in 2009, 2012, 2014, 21, 22, when my daughter Salma said she can’t take it anymore, I told her to listen to Peter Gabriel’ song, “Don’t give up, don’t give up,” because you know you can. Peter Gabriel helped me a lot before, he doesn’t help me now. I’m sorry Peter, I can’t handle it anymore.
There is my mother, there is my daughter, there are my sisters and my brothers all of whom all believe I can, all of whom believe I should be there for them.
I continue walking toward the market, could not stop my tears. I wanted to shout, to scream, to curse! I wanted a hug, I really need a hug…
Arriving at the UNRWA primary healthcare unit where I volunteer with Humanity and Inclusion, I saw a doctor and approached him, explaining my mother’s situation and need. – Sorry, there is no Nexium in the pharmacy, no canula, all has been distributed to the shelters for caring for the injured, who were prematurely discharged from the hospitals to free places for fresh injuries. But I can get you the saline.
– Thank you doctor.
I took the saline and moved on to look for my needs in pharmacies, arriving at the heart of the market. Oh my God what a disturbing image! A huge building completely destroyed damaging at least twelve other buildings around, beside, behind, and in front of it! Very ugly, gloomy, frightening image! Since the start of the war on Gaza up to yesterday, about 150,000 housing units in the Gaza Strip (40+%) have been destroyed or damaged. Is there any more proof needed of this genocide!?
Walking from pharmacy to pharmacy, from street to street, from Nusairat to camp Burij on the other side of Salah Eldeen Rd., after walking for more than three hours and 13 kms (according to the walking app on my phone) and visiting 17 pharmacies I finally found all that I needed for my mother. Back home my mother is suffering this ugly pain. My parents- in-law know a neighbor who is a nurse and they called her. She did not hesitate to come and do what was necessary for my mother. It was 13h35 when she finished, and my mother has been sleeping since then.
I need sleep.
Hossam Al Madhoun 24 October 2023
Like any other day, I headed out toward the market. It is no longer that market I knew; more than half the stores and buildings on both sides of the street were destroyed and damaged. The street is very black, full of dust and rubble, broken glass, pieces of doors and windows. Electric and phone cables spread along the road, falling from the pillars. Dirty water mixed with sewage, as infrastructure was hit, damaging many underground pipes. Piles of garbage everywhere, no garbage collection. No municipal staff to repair the damaged water and sewage pipes.
Passing by the bakery, there is no orderly line, everybody is in one big crowd shouting at each other., fighting over the line order. Some men and women are fighting by hand, beating each other! Some other people try to calm down the crowd with no success. The bakery owner has closed the bakery door. It’s mad! People are angry.
Passing by a school, another fight and shouting. People lose their tempers, get angry for any small reason, or even for no reason. Who can blame them? No water, no food. No bathrooms. No privacy. No dignity. No hope. Just despair and fear.
Continuing to walk down towards Sala Eldeen Street with no purpose. A new line, some men were carrying bread flour bags of 35 kilograms each. I asked one of them where he brought it from.
– There is a flower mill at St. 20
– Can I find some there? Or maybe it is finished? – I believe you can find some.
Here I am now walking with a purpose.
For the last three days, we have no cooking gas. We started to cook our food and bread on a fire. I remembered a colleague living at St. 20. I called him saying that I am nearby. He asked me to continue to his place and he will catch up with me in 15 minutes, as he is in the supermarket now. I arrived at the mill and bought the flour. I carried it the other approximately 70 meters to his house. His father, who knows me, was very gentle. He welcomed me in a very friendly manner and provided me with coffee and biscuits. He brought some plastic chairs, and we sat in front of his home. We chat mainly about the war and the struggle of people in securing the minimum basic needs. We talked about the people we both know, who was killed, or injured, or lost a sibling or a home.
15 minutes later when my colleague arrives, he looks terrified, full of dust and sand. He has just left the supermarket when it was bombed by in Israeli air strike. He survived, but he saw many people around him, some dead, some injured. He could not stop, fearing another bombing would take place. It happened many times; people running toward injured people to provide help and another strike hits the same spot, killing and injuring more people.
After 15 minutes, he was calm again and able to speak and breathe normally. I felt I must leave. I asked them if I could leave the flour at their place until I find a way to bring it to my father-in-law’s home. The distance is more than three kilometers, and I don’t believe I can do it carrying a 35kg bag.
Abeer, with her sister was waiting for me at their cousin’s home, who was living in the middle of the camp nearby the main market. She had just finished her work at the school shelter, changing dirty bandages, helping a mother to give birth, and distributing assistive devices. Her cousin is hosting 2 displaced families of friends and work colleagues from the Gaza power plant. As I arrive at his home, there is shouting and screaming. The two families inside were fighting over a clash between their children.
Abeer and her sister came out and we walked home.
When we arrived home, my mother was calling for me over and over. She wanted to go to the bathroom, but no one there can carry her from bedroom to the bathroom. She could not hold it and did it in bed. I was very frustrated. I took her to the bathroom, cleaned her with cold water. She cursed me. She shouted at me! She did not know that warm water is a luxury we can’t provide now. I was really angry, but I controlled myself and did not react. I finished cleaning her, put on clean clothes, brought her to the bed, brought her some food, and gave her the medicine.
Back to the bathroom to wash her clothes. No electricity, no washing machine, so washing by hand in plastic Jerry cans. Filling water from the barrel on the first floor, bringing it up to the second floor several times. While sitting on the ground, washing her clothes, trying to control my anger and frustration, I remembered my childhood. There was no electricity in town when I was a child. Surely there would be no washing machines. We were five brothers and four sisters and my father and my mother. At the time my mother was did all the washing for all the family. Not only the washing, but the cooking, the cleaning, the hugging, and much more. I felt so bad, but no longer angry, no longer frustrated, just exhausted.
I washed my body and my clothes, hung them up. Lunch was ready, we all ate downstairs, and I went up to my room.
By the way, today in the market I bought a headphone set to use with my mobile so that I could open the radio application. The radio doesn’t work in mobiles without the headphones attached, which I did not know. Lying on my mattress, I attached the headphone and opened the radio, moving from channel to channel. It is all news about the war, counting the dead and injured, political analysts speaking with the deep voices of well- informed people, reporters shouting to make sure that they are heard. I don’t need this! Moving to other channels and suddenly… music! I know this channel, it’s a radio channel broadcasting classical music and only music and only classical. It was a Symphony #15 of Mozart, followed by another Symphony from Tchaikovsky. I laid down, closed my eyes, and fell asleep. It was a well-deserved shut eye.
27 October 2023
Early warning, hallucinations, and insomnia
At half past midnight, a neighbor 20 meters from my father-in-law’s home received a call from the Israeli army to evacuate his home, as they intend to bomb and destroy it. He has until 4 pm to leave. All neighbors around him start to leave, carrying whatever they can of minimum basic needs. Abeer was cooking bread, and I was washing my mom when we learned of the news. We became confused, what to do? Abeer asked me to hurry up and prepare my mother, she continues baking, giving orders at the same time to her sisters to prepare for leaving, I put the evacuation bags which we previously prepared inside the car and drove it 2 streets away from our home.
Everyone is moving hysterically in all directions, afraid, silent. I put my mom in her wheelchair, and my brother-in-law put our mother-in-law at her wheelchair. Abeer finished baking, she wrapped the bread, and we went out of the house. Abeer’s father told us to follow him to his friend’s home, 80 meters away. It is a big house with a front yard, a poor garden with some trees and plants. The friend with his family welcomed us openly, the women and girls sat at the left side of the garden, the men sat at the right side. It is 2:22 now, the landlord offered the men coffee and to the women some coffee and biscuits.
“Waiting,” one of the worst words for me! I hate waiting! Now it is like sitting on fire.
I must find a safer place, going back home to Gaza City is impossible, absolute suicide. Going south, to Khan Younis or Rafah, I know no one. Also, the schools are already overcrowded, we won’t find any place at all. I remembered that 2 weeks ago (on the 12th of October when we left home), a friend in Rafah had called me to offer an apartment, which was empty after the death of his older brother. But that was 13 days ago, and things will not be the same now. I expect that he has received family members, and I did not want to embarrass him, so I sent him a message instead of a phone call. As I expected, his home is more than filled with displaced relatives, aunts, uncles, nieces.
Calling another friend, and another, no place, all home units, all schools are overwhelmed with displaced people. After the Israeli army has destroyed 50% or more of the home units of Gaza Strip in the last 2 weeks, squeezing 2,1 million into a space for 1 million, What I can expect?
It is 4 pm, nothing has happened, 4:30, nothing has happened! We sit in the garden, I smoke and smoke, my thinking ability is paralyzed. What to do, dark will fall soon, no movement is possible after dark. The voice of my mother coming from the other side telling stories about everything and nothing. She is unable to realize the reality of our situation.
There is no indication from the neighbor that we can stay. We understand, we can see how many people he hosts, so many women came out to greet and receive our ladies, many men came to receive us, many children around us, his sons and their wives and children, his daughters and their husbands and children.
I talked to my father-in-law and my wife. We must decide what to do now, we can’t wait until dark as it will be too late to act. It is not certain that they will bomb tonight. The supermarket which was bombed 3 days ago received the same warning call 4 days before the strike happened. We decide we will go back to our house, we will all sleep at the far east side room, away from windows, and tomorrow we will look for another solution, if we survive the night.
The night, it is the nightmare here under attack, the bombing escalating during night.
Back at our house, we brought my mother’s bed from the second floor, we put her in the corner of the room. It is dark, since last night, my mother began seeing images and people, hallucinations. She tells people to go out, she asks dancers to stop dancing, she calls children to stop splashing water on her, she keeps telling a lady to go away from her. This lady is putting her face too close to my mother’s face, making my mother terrified and she screams. Looking at my mother’s face at these moments, her eyes are opened wide, staring into a vacuum. Her face is full of panic. I try to calm her down, nothing works, especially if I say that there is no one here! She shouts, “how come you don’t see them, why don’t you help me, why don’t you ask them to leave, are you taking sides with them!” I can do nothing but cry.
At 2:00 am it was too much for everyone, I carried her up to the second floor. Maybe her shouts and screams will not reach the others, and they can sleep. The hallucinations
continue, it is 6:30, dawn, day light is not full yet, and my mom is still with wide open eyes, and I am falling apart. I forget about the risk I put her and myself in by being in the vulnerable second floor which would be mostly damaged if the strike of the neighbor takes place.
7:45. Finally, my mother is calmer and more silent, she asks for breakfast. Abeer came to serve her, and I fall asleep on the second floor.
mirjamdanse 