Razan Abu Salem
The Electronic Intifada / July 16, 2024
We had pitched our tents in Al-Mawasi during May as Israel had told us to go there. It would be a “safe zone,” we were promised.
Al-Mawasi – an area of southern Gaza – became overcrowded with displaced people. Many people even set up tents on the beach.
The claim that Al-Mawasi would be “safe” turned out to be a brazen lie.
Last Saturday – 13 July – Israel carried out a massacre here. At least 90 Palestinians were killed.
Israel attacked us with the American-made warplanes in its arsenal. There was no warning.
An area full of tents was transformed into a mass grave.
I was with my family in our tent when the attack began. The noise was terrifying.
The bombing seemed so close that we thought the tent next to us had been targeted.
We checked on each other and found that my brother Abd al-Rahman was missing.
My mother and I rushed out searching for him. We tried to phone him repeatedly but there was no signal.
“Your brother went out to buy us food,” my mother kept saying.
“I wish I hadn’t sent him. I hope he is safe.”
The road was full of corpses. As we searched hurriedly, we passed numerous bodies.
I could recognize most of them. They had been living in tents near ours.
We kept running until we arrived at the place where most of the people had been killed.
My mother began asking everyone she encountered, “Have you seen my son Abd? He is wearing a blue shirt and black pants.”
Someone reassured her that he was okay. Abd al-Rahman had been seen helping to transport an injured person to Nasser Medical Complex in the city of Khan Younis.
We were relieved. Yet we were shocked by the horrific scene and the massive destruction.
Approximately half of the people killed were women and children.
Many had been queuing for water when the attack occurred.
And the Israelis killed three civil defense workers when they arrived at the scene.
I could see blood everywhere.
Tents were covered with blood.
Food was covered with blood.
Goods being sold in the street were covered with blood.
Our neighbor Um Hamada was searching for her three children: Hamada, Hamed and Lana.
My mother and I began to help her look for them.
The sun was burning. The sand was very hot.
We found many corpses. They weren’t Um Hamada’s children.
Um Hamada wept and said to us, “Please search under the rubble and in the sand. My kids might have been buried.”
We searched in the sand.
We had to wipe the dust and sand from the faces of the bodies that we found. That was the only way we could see the faces clearly.
After more than an hour, we found all of Um Hamada’s three children buried under the hot sand. Their bodies were torn to pieces.
My mother and I were very shocked and saddened.
Um Hamada was in pain. She gathered the pieces of her children and placed them in a bag.
There were many other parents in the same situation as Um Hamada.
Israel had inflicted massive suffering on families sheltering in a “safe zone” that proved anything but safe.
Razan Abu Salem is a writer and translator based in Gaza
