40 days of war, I endured harrowing days in northern Gaza as Israeli warplanes bombed the homes of my whole neighborhood, Tragically, my own home was later targeted, leveling it to the ground and claiming the lives of my mother, sister, and brother, while leaving my youngest brother and father injured.
Amidst the genocide, internet connections were cut off due to the relentless bombings, rendering it impossible for me to continue my journalism work documenting the atrocities of Israeli forces. The unbearable psychological toll of enduring constant nightmares and sleeplessness, coupled with the threat of imminent death, compelled us to flee northern Gaza.
Gathering our remaining family members into a single room became our refuge, so if one of us must die, we all die. it was a desperate attempt to shield each other from the horrors unfolding outside. As the bombings intensified, the unbearable weight of our circumstances became too much to bear, forcing me and my wife to make the agonizing decision to leave.
Yet, the journey of anguish did not end there. Upon reaching the checkpoint, we were met with a new form of torment. Humiliation and fear gripped us as soldiers brandished their weapons, firing warning shots overhead. My heart raced as I clutched my crying baby, praying for his silence lest it draw the soldiers' attention and bring about our demise.
I witnessed a fellow mother confronted by the soldiers, ordered to hand over her baby to a stranger or face dire consequences. The cruelty of the ultimatum weighed heavily on my soul, a stark reminder of the unfathomable choices forced upon us by the genocidal war.
In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for embarking on this treacherous journey. The agony of the checkpoint ordeal seemed almost unbearable, prompting thoughts that perhaps it would have been easier to face death than to endure such indignity and suffering.
Leave a Reply