The Electronic Intifada 3 October 2024
Muhammad al-Tannah, 37, is a lawyer in Gaza who now sells juice to support his family. He was badly injured in an Israeli attack on a school in Gaza and was forced to have his legs amputated.
My uncle’s name is Muhammad al-Tannah. He is 37 years old and is from Gaza City.
Before the genocide, he lived in Sheikh Radwan and worked as a civil lawyer.
After the genocide, his fate so drastically changed that I have come to think of his story as more than a single story of one man, but as representative of the disasters and miseries Israel has inflicted on our land and our people.
My uncle is very dear to my heart. I have always seen him as an elegant man, a professional who is skilled in his career.
This past August, he started to sell juice to support his family, making $3 a day. I never imagined that such a low wage existed, much less that such a wage might support an entire family.
Yet my uncle remained grateful that he could buy his family canned food and provide them with the basics.
He once told me how much he missed wearing his suit in court, so I jokingly told him to wear it while selling juice. He laughed at this, and the mood seemed lighter for a minute.
Unfortunately, the loss of a career was not the only hardship to befall my uncle.
Near the end of August 2024, Israeli airstrikes targeted the Mustafa Hafez school in central Gaza City, where hundreds of displaced people, if not more, had taken shelter.
Israel killed at least 12 people in its strikes, and injured so many more, including my uncle Muhammad.
He had been selling juice there that day. When I asked him about the attack, he said it felt like the end of the world. Explosions, screaming, people running for their lives. He said he wanted to run with them but that he couldn’t feel his legs. He tried many times to move them, but he couldn’t.
I only found out about this later, after he had been in the hospital, because my family had tried to protect me from this news. But when I finally saw him later, I was shocked that his legs had been amputated.
Seeing that look of defeat and vulnerability in his eyes was the hardest moment of my life. We tried to comfort him, although no words seemed to help the situation.
My uncle’s story is not just a story to me or a passing tale. It’s much bigger than that.
Nour Abu Dan is a writer in Gaza.
