Palestinians, including children, who were forced to flee to Deir al-Balah city in central Gaza for safety and protection from Israeli attacks on Gaza, queue with their pots as the aid organisations distribute hot meals on June 13, 2024 [Abed Rahim Khatib – Anadolu Agency]
At around 2:00 a.m., a quadcopter flew over the al-Maghazi camp, broadcasting terrifying audio of screaming women and barking dogs. It then began shooting indiscriminately. A bullet hit our neighbor’s house as we hurried to protect our two sons.
I placed the mattresses on the floor, and my husband, Abderlrhamn, built a sofa barrier around them. “If the quadcopter shoots, the bullet will hit the sofa, not the children,” he said.
My 4-year-old, Adam, woke up and asked, “Are you playing hide and seek?” I reassured him as best I could, “Hide under the blanket and we will find you.”
But our game was interrupted by the intensifying bombardment. Adam, trembling, said, “I am afraid. Hug me.”
Nowhere to Go
Hours later, at 8:46 a.m., the Israeli military issued new evacuation orders for Al-Maghazi camp, Al-Musaddar village, and parts of Al-Zawaida. Residents of Al-Maghazi, confused and exhausted, were in disbelief. They had nowhere to go.
My aunt called, asking, “Where will you go? Is there a safe place?” My grandmother urged us to flee immediately, “Find a shelter and flee. You don’t have enough time.”
Over three days, evacuation orders spread across Khan Yunis, east Deir al-Balah, and central Gaza. The military directed people to the “safe zones” of Al-Mawasi and west Deir Al-Balah, but these areas were already overcrowded.
By August 16, the UN reported that 84% of Gaza’s area was under evacuation orders. In Al-Maghazi, people packed their belongings onto carts and trucks, exhausted and fearful. Despite knowing there was no real safety, they fled to avoid losing loved ones.
My family searched for a refuge, but all spaces were occupied. We spent a cold night on the street before we decided to stay in the house. The ten of us decide to sleep in one room. My father warned us to stay silent to avoid detection by Israeli drones.
“If we die, we will die together,” my sister said. In Gaza, it’s common to hope that if a family is targeted, all members are lost together to avoid further suffering.
The Key
October 9, 2024
Three days into the Israeli assault on Gaza, bombings were everywhere. When an airstrike hit an empty field behind my house in Al-Tuffah, we decided to flee to Al-Maghazi refugee camp. I took nothing with me but the key to my house, hoping to return soon.
Now, over 300 days later, we still haven’t returned. “Our houses? Which houses? They have turned our vibrant lands into a wasteland,” I said at a family gathering.
Despite the destruction, my father emphasized, “These keys represent our cherished memories and aspirations, not just physical properties. They symbolize our determination to return and rebuild.”
To Our Land, We Belong
Abu Ahmed, our neighbor, believes the Israeli occupation aims to make Gazans hate their homeland and resistance. “Why issue an evacuation order for civilians? No missiles were even launched from the camp!” he asks, like so many people in Gaza.
He continues, “Since 1948, the occupation has tried to disconnect us from our land. But we, Palestinians, love our land more than anything.”
Many Gazans believe that the repeated evacuation orders are part of Israel’s psychological operation in Gaza, which is aimed at devastating Palestinian bodies and minds alike, and also part of a military pressure on the resistance to surrender.
Um Ahmed, Abu Ahmed’s wife, adds, “The Zionist occupation wants to kill us from the inside and outside, but we will continue to resist. This war is the most deadly since 1948, but we will not surrender. Our land is precious to us, and we will fight to keep it.”
Source: qudsnen
