|  | | The number of Palestinians injured in Israel's war on Gaza continues to rise [GALLO/GETTY] |
As the death toll from Israel's war on Gaza continues to climb, Mohammed Ali, an advocacy and media researcher for Oxfam who lives in Gaza City, will be keeping a diary of his experiences.
| Day 4 - Immeasurable psychological damage | At midnight last night, I was sitting by my wife and two children who were fast asleep: there was an hour of quiet; no drones, no attacks. I thought to myself "could this be the calm before the storm?" All of a sudden, I heard 10 missiles in a row and my house began to shake once more. My wife awoke in a panic and my small son looked at me with terror in his eyes, he did not say a word. At 2am there was a total black out in the Gaza Strip, except for the light caused by Israeli attacks. At some point we must have fallen asleep. | "What have [the children] done to deserve having their precious innocence destroyed? How will this affect them in the future?" Mohammed, Gaza City | As soon as we awoke, we went for breakfast at my parents. My sister told us how her youngest daughter, Nada, who is three-and-a-half had that morning begun to draw. Interested by what her child was creating, my sister asked to look at it and motioned to take the picture for a moment "No!" cried Nada pointing at a drawing of an airplane, "stop, this could kill you!" This caused me to pause for thought at all the immeasurable psychological damage that this conflict has caused children; what have they done to deserve having their precious innocence destroyed? How will this affect them in the future? Thankfully, my children do not understand what is happening. Although they often cry from fear, my son, seeing everyone gathered around, staying up late at night, thinks that we are having a party, he jumps around us and laughs, asking himself, "Why are you all together here?" Every time my phone rings, he dances around to the ring tone. Usually, my wife and I leave him with my mother when we go to work but for a few days straight now we have spent every moment with him. It started raining, I comforted myself for just one moment with the thought that maybe, just maybe, the rain would stop the attacks but of course it didn't, and many more lives were soon lost. As I saw on the news the death toll rise, I thought once again, could we all be next? We live in a constant state of fear that is slowly beginning to kill us. Every time the phone rings, my heart skips a beat, what news will it bring? Will it be a friend's, a colleague's a relative's death, injury?  | Some Gazans are too scared to attend funerals for fear of becoming a casualty [AFP]
| Sadly, even those who have been killed cannot be mourned properly. I felt immense guilt that I was not able to attend my neighbour's funeral, but few did, fearing that they might be the next victims while grieving for another. Even during the three days of mourning at his family home, the house was almost empty. A few hours ago, I was asked abruptly for my phone by my sister-in-law, she wanted to talk to her family immediately, they had just received a call by the Israeli military announcing that their home might be hit during the next attack. She told her family to come over to the home of ours. They might come, they might not.
My wife and her brother started arguing earlier today about where they would be most safe in the event of an attack, upstairs with family or downstairs in their own home. I did not want to tell them that their argument was futile; if a missile hit us there would no longer be an upstairs or downstairs. For a moment today, I stepped outside, I saw people sitting outside their homes, running for cover at every sound of an attack. Overhead were helicopters, I soon went back inside fearing the worst. Our lives have been paralysed. | Day 3 - Memories destroyed | It is the third consecutive night of the Israeli offensive.
My two young children, my wife, my sister-in-law, who is staying with us, and I all slept in our living room, which is in the centre of our flat.
During the night, there was an average of two air strikes every ten minutes in Gaza City alone.
On the television we heard that the Israeli military had hit a mosque in Jabaliya refugee camp in the north of the Gaza Strip. We were shocked to hear that the shelling caused a house to collapse, killing five sisters inside and injuring all 11 family members. We cried together in the knowledge that no one was safe from the air strikes.
We barely slept. Just 500 metres from our home the strikes hit the Islamic University building. I graduated from the Islamic University of Gaza. When I heard that the Israeli F16 missiles had destroyed it, I felt as though my good memories had also been obliterated.
I phoned one of my sisters who lives close to the university. She told me: "We are so scared. I don't know where to go, what to do. The explosion shook our entire building."
I listened to her but could not find the words to reassure her. How could I? It was obvious that no one was safe. | Day 2 - Sleeping with one eye open | When I fell asleep on the second night of the Israeli offensive, I was afraid that I may never wake again. So I slept with one eye open, in constant fear for my family's safety.
At least once an hour, I was woken by the sound of explosions. I constantly checked on my wife and children, thinking that our home could be the next target of the Israeli jets.
In the early hours of the morning, I woke to find my 15-month-old baby walking around the living room sobbing. I rushed over to him and held him in my arms until he fell asleep.
My mother called us over for breakfast. All of our family gathered around the table. My mother, who suffers from heart problems, told us all how, whenever a target close to our home was hit during the night, she would wake with her heart pounding.
Supplies running out
It is no secret that the Gaza Strip is heavily dependent on supplies coming from Egypt via tunnels, especially since the Israeli blockade was stepped up in November. So after we heard that the Israeli attacks had targeted the tunnels, my father went off to the grocery store to buy reserve food supplies.
| "[My father] told us that food prices had tripled because of the destruction of the tunnels" Mohammed, Gaza City | When he came back he told us that food prices had tripled because of the destruction of the tunnels. I wanted to buy nappies for my two children. My younger brother went out but struggled to find anything. I thought to myself that it is only a matter of days now until food and fuel becomes unavailable to us all.
We heard an announcement from the Israeli government that the attacks on Gaza would continue for a long time in spite of the calls from regional and international bodies and organisations for them to stop.
From my home the sound of ambulance sirens is non-stop.
Every time I hear an explosion followed by sirens, I think of those ambulances carrying the dead and injured.
I am increasingly fearful for my children, family and friends. I think to myself that the next ambulance might be carrying one of my friends, a member of my family, or even me. | Day 1 - Black Saturday in Gaza |
I was at home, lying down on my bed. It was 11.30am; a time when students fill the streets on their way home from school.
All of a sudden I heard massive explosions, one after the other. The windows in my bedroom began to shake violently.
I jumped out of bed and tried to turn the TV on, but there was no electricity. I ran around frantically, not knowing what to do.
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Your Views | The explosions grew stronger and sounded closer. I went to my front door and looked up at the sky. It was filled with black smoke.
While I was searching for people to find out what was going on, someone told me: "The Israeli jets are targeting all police buildings and the homes of Hamas leaders." I later realised that the explosions I had heard was the Al Abbas police station, 300 metres from my home, being targeted.
The first thing that came to my mind was to call my wife and to check that my two young children were okay. They had spent the night in Khan Younis, in the south of Gaza, with my wife's family. But the mobile network was down. After 20 minutes of desperate attempts to reach them, I finally talked to my wife who told me that they were very scared but okay.
She was crying down the phone to me while watching TV. She said she could see images of dead bodies and that more than 50 people had already been killed.
At least now I knew that my wife and children were alive. But what about my three sisters and their children? I eventually reached one of my sisters who started to cry - she still did not know where her children were. An hour later they made it home - scared but unhurt.
State of shock
As I stood outside my home in a state of shock, I heard women screaming next door. People were running around, crying "Mohammed has been killed".
Mohammed Habboush was my 26-year-old neighbour. I felt sad because I knew the guy well.
An hour later, I got a message on my mobile telling me that another friend had been killed.
My family returned from Khan Younis in the evening. I felt so relieved to see them. We all sat together in front of the television just crying and feeling afraid after every explosion. I tried to pretend that I was fine in order to make my family feel some sort of security, but deep inside I was afraid.
At 11pm my wife's mobile rang. It was a recorded voice message from the Israeli army which said: "If you have any kind of weapon in your home, you should evacuate your home immediately as we will target it."
At first I told my wife that we should not worry because we don't own any weapons. However, ten minutes later, my father who lives above us, called to say that he had received the same message. At that moment I started to panic. |
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