Without warning, we were all asked to try to leave the place from which I had fled with some neighbors and relatives. I quickly checked that my hijab was in place and grabbed my small bag with important personal documents. I hastily walked through the streets, taking different routes, hoping to be safer and further away from the occupation tanks.

Along the way, I tried as much as possible to recite some Quran, especially “Ayatul Kursi,” to feel safe, fearing that the occupation planes might surprise me with their missiles, making my last breaths in remembrance of Allah.

After walking a long distance, I reached a place where I thought I would be safe. As soon as I caught my breath, my cousin Samah came to check on her family, as she hadn't seen them in a long time.

I warmly greeted her, and she quickly wanted to leave to return to her home, where her daughters were. The situation is dangerous, and it is advisable not to prolong the visit.

House and Family Martyred!

It was only a matter of minutes until I heard a fierce bombing nearby. Shortly after, I heard screams that made me realize something serious had happened. My cousin Samah was screaming and crying in the street, repeating, “I saw the missile bomb my house!”

I ran to her, and the first thing she said was to ask about her daughters, Jumana and Balsam. I tried to calm her down and told her that the bombing might not have been at her house, but she insisted, “I saw it with my own eyes; the missile hit my house; my daughters Balsam and Jumana are inside.”

Indeed, it was only a matter of a few minutes until we knew for sure. I saw the men from my relatives weeping in despair on the ground, their feet could no longer carry them!

The bodies lying behind them confirmed the merciless brutality of the occupation's targeting. My cousin Samah lost her two daughters. As for my cousin Ameed, his wife Salam and three daughters, Sham, Shahad, and Sandy, were martyred. My cousin Fadyah, along with her two daughters, were martyred, and my cousin Ataf lost her son, Alam.

At that moment, I cried bitterly and felt the pain deeply ingrained in my heart for this tragedy that shook the entire area. Their house was bombed on top of them with no warning or mercy. The occupation's missiles did not even spare the children's bodies.

Balsam had been longing to eat strawberry jelly candy, and she was waiting for her father to bring it for her. Despite the difficulty, her father searched for it for hours until he found a box that brought joy to his heart, especially since his little daughter Balsam loved it so much.

Her father carried the candy box, rushing to offer it to his little girl. But just moments before he arrived, the house was bombed! He wept bitterly, calling for his daughter's dead body. “Sweety, Daddy brought you a box of strawberry candy, Balsam. Sweety, please answer me!”

They killed Alam twice!

Even Alam was not spared by the missiles of the occupation, despite being confined to his medical bed, unable to move anything but his head. He was injured as a child by the occupation's bullets that struck his spinal cord, resulting in his complete paralysis for over 30 years.

During this war, his house was bombed, with missiles showing no mercy to his paralyzed body. Everything is a target in their eyes, always justifying their actions with the infamous lie: “We bombed it because it posed a threat to us!”

For the occupation, everything in Gaza represents a threat; even the innocent infant Sandy, who was martyred alongside her mother and siblings, was seen as a dangerous threat! 

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 Read the Article in Arabic