Gaza Strip

No honeymoons in Gaza

Wael Selmi displayed a surprising kindness and welcome — you are welcome any time — given that his life’s work had just been leveled by the invading Israeli army. Even more surprising, given that the brothers’ furniture factory in northern Gaza was destroyed by the Israeli army four years ago, causing $300,000 in damage and losses. They’d had it just two years at the time. Along with that ruined factory, the family owns agricultural land which they cannot access near the Erez crossing. Eva Bartlett writes from the Gaza Strip. 

Still breathing in Gaza

Blood is everywhere. Hospital orderlies hose down the floors of operating rooms, bloodied bandages lie discarded in corners, and the injured continue to pour in: bodies lacerated by shrapnel, burns, bullet wounds. Medical workers, exhausted and under siege, work day and night and each life saved is seen as a victory over the predominance of death. Caoimhe Butterly writes from the occupied Gaza Strip. 

"Twenty years of a life erased"

When I’d met the extended Abed Rabu family, before the ground invasion began, they had just had their house bombed by an F-16. Their area has been occupied by Israeli tanks and soldiers since the ground invasion began. Medical workers cannot reach the injured there, and those who have managed to escape testify to imprisonment in their houses, abuse, point-blank shooting (to death), and a number of dead not yet known. Eva Bartlett writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

Gaza's medics: "They know they are going to die"

“If this thing doesn’t stop in another week, some of them will die. And they know it,” Alberto said about the war on Gaza, as we looked at a photo I’d taken today of Saber, one of the emergency medics in Gaza who risks his life each day. I’d thought the same thing earlier, when I said “yatiek al-afia” (have strength) to each medic climbing into their ambulances. Eva Bartlett writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

Every second there is a bomb

So far, my own family is okay but I feel shy to speak about my family. I don’t think like that. Everyone in Gaza is my family. We are suffering collectively as we are being punished and forgotten collectively, and we are dying. It is very dangerous here and everywhere in Gaza. By 5pm the streets are empty. Not even one person goes out of their homes in my area. But even in our homes, we are not safe. I swear sometimes I can smell death around us. Adham Khalil writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

How does one prepare for a war crime?

Since the start of the Israeli offensive on Gaza, Israeli warplanes have been bombing and shelling several locations in the area near our house, very near our house. With each bombardment, we feel our house shake like an earthquake and windows break, not to mention our utter fear and horror. Maha Mehanna writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

Targeting a cup of tea in Gaza

Only a tea cup, a broken chair and some spots of blood were left where a short time before five members of the the Abu Jbarah family had been sitting in al-Bureij refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip. The Electronic Intifada correspondent Rami Almeghari writes from besieged Gaza. 

Israel is targeting medics

On 7 January, as Spanish human rights advocate and documentary filmmaker, Alberto Arce, and I accompanied Palestinian medics to retrieve the body of a man shot earlier by invading Israeli forces, we were also shot at as the medics carried the body towards the ambulance. It was in Dawwar Zimmo, eastern Jabaliya, near the area which has been occupied by Israeli soldiers since the land invasion began. Eva Bartlett writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

Gaza is sinking in a river of blood

There is no safe place we can go. We cannot communicate with our relatives and friends — networks are down as missiles rain on our homes, mosques and even hospitals. Our life is centered around the burials of those who have died, our martyrs. At night our camp, Jabaliya refugee camp, is a ghost town, with no sounds other than those of Israeli military aircraft. Mohammed Fares Al Majdalawi writes from the besieged Gaza Strip. 

All signs point to systematic targeting of civilians

Last night was a quiet one in Jabaliya. “Only” six homes bombed into the ground, the market, again, maybe four lightly injured people — shrapnel to the face injuries — and no martyrs. Beit Hanoun saw a young woman, Nariman Ahmad Abu Owder, just 17, shot dead as she made tea in her family’s kitchen. Ewa Jasiewicz reports from the besieged Gaza Strip.