Source: Amnesty International –
For over 21 months, the world has been bearing witness to unfathomable levels of death and destruction in the occupied Gaza Strip. Israel’s brutal onslaught against Palestinians in Gaza has killed tens of thousands of people, wiped out entire families, flattened residential neighbourhoods, destroyed critical infrastructure and forcibly displaced nearly the entirety of Gaza’s residents., causing an unprecedented humanitarian catastrophe.
Amnesty International has been working with trusted, exceptionally professional and dedicated fieldworkers in Gaza. Despite all odds, they have continued to document violations, visit sites of strikes, collect evidence and share stories, all while attempting to protect their families and hang on to what remains of their life under Israel’s ongoing genocide.
In this moving account, our fieldworker bravely shares how his hopes of a ceasefire have been torn apart. The reality of his life is now truly unbearable. His home has been destroyed, he and his family are facing displacement once again and the little food that is available just isn’t enough. He is hungry, worried and afraid of what’s next...
When the ceasefire in Gaza was announced, we were overjoyed that we would finally be able to return to our home in the north. We returned on 8 February, but we were more afraid than happy — afraid that our home might have been completely destroyed. Thankfully, it was still standing, though there were some shells that had hit the front of the house and burn marks on the walls.
But inside, there was no furniture, none of the clothes we had left behind when we were displaced in October 2023, not even kitchen tools remained. The house had been looted. Still, we stayed. We cleaned and repaired it, bought some basic furniture, adapted to the situation, and lived in it for three months. We struggled to secure drinking water, but at least during the ceasefire we were not waiting for death. The truce was broken, and war came back again to claim what remained of our souls. By then the crossings had been closed, prices soared and goods began to disappear, bit by bit.
I planted some vegetables behind the house, like mint, pumpkin, chili peppers, eggplants, and basil, so they would be readily available. But we returned to the bigger struggle — hunger. There was no flour, no food. Overnight, our life turned into hell.
Israeli military stormed our neighborhood
On 15 May, the Israeli military stormed our neighborhood and began indiscriminately shelling the area. We fled our home under gunfire and shelling, taking nothing with us. We ran into the street and wandered aimlessly down an unknown path. We realized we had returned to the worst suffering — displacement.
We took refuge in my daughter’s home in Gaza City. It’s a small home — two rooms, a small living room, and a kitchen. She, her husband, and their two children took one room, and we stayed in the other.
After three months of closed crossings, even if flour could be found, its price was unimaginable. To withdraw cash, you have to pay up to 45% commission. For a large family like mine, expenses are extremely high, and many types of food were missing from the markets. We craved many foods, and we hadn’t tasted meat, chicken, or sweets in months. We live through intense famine.
We are torn apart watching our children suffer from hunger. There is nothing to sustain life. Life in Gaza has become unlivable. We live in humiliation and degradation.
We are being starved
Yes, limited aid enters the Strip, but it doesn’t meet the huge needs, and even the drops that get in reach very few people.
I am not ashamed to say this publicly: I, like my family and my children, am hungry.
I speak the truth as it is. We cannot stand from the pain of hunger.
We are not weak — but the war has broken our bones, and the siege has hollowed out our stomachs.
We are not beggars. We are people entitled to our human rights. We are people of this land.
We are being besieged. We are being starved.
I said what I feel — what every home in Gaza feels. Our children are hungry, and we are fighting to survive. Fighting for a single bite of food. Fighting for life.
I am a human being. I am a father, a brother, a neighbor.
I know people’s pain because I live it every moment.
After we were displaced from our home in the north during the latest incursion, the Israeli forces advanced into our neighborhood for a short period and destroyed every house. Our home was among them. It was destroyed savagely. They destroyed our memories in that home, every moment we had lived there for nine years.
Nothing remains now
We had a beautiful, warm house, full of peace. In front of it was a small piece of land where we planted vegetables, olives, and thyme. We had a room for raising poultry and a spot to sit in at the end of the day. Nothing remains now. No house, no land to plant.
We are not only dying from bombings. We are dying from hunger too.
Hunger has destroyed homes, made the elderly weep like children, and made bread a dream.
We used to criticize the airdropped aid. It was dangerous and ineffective., On some occasions, the airdropped cans caused fatalities. But it turns out that it was more merciful than this current method of distribution, which takes dozens of lives every day.
Humiliation. Disgrace. Killing. Thuggery. Blood. Sorrow. Grief.
We are walking dead, wrapped in our shrouds.
We are not okay.
The author’s name has been withheld for security reasons.
CALL TO ACTION: Call for an end to Israel’s genocide against Palestinians in Gaza. Take action here.