By Basel Q
1 - (One day before the invasion)
In 2014, during the Israeli offensive, we were at home when the army began advancing its forces into northern and southern areas of the Gaza Strip, including Rafah, Beit Hanoun, Beit Lahia, and especially the eastern part of Khan Younis—specifically, my hometown: a small border town called (Khuza’a)
Back then, Khuza’a was just a beautiful little village with no more than 7,000 Palestinian refugees from Jaffa and from occupated areas of the village (1948). The army dropped countless leaflets warning us to evacuate immediately, as a ground incursion was imminent. So, we decided to leave.
But the very next day, we heard that power and water had returned to the town, and that the army had canceled its invasion. Thinking the danger had passed, we returned to our homes.
No sooner had we stepped through our doors than it all began—the nightmare.
2 - ( night in the hell )
I remember... I was seven years old. We were all packed into our small house—me, my parents, my brother and sister, both my grandparents from my mom’s and dad’s sides, all my uncles and aunts, and even my dad’s cousin who was sleeping in the guest room.
We were huddled in the middle of the house, somewhere between the living room and the kitchen, listening to the sounds of shelling, tanks, random gunfire—everything.
There were flames everywhere, smoke rising high above the buildings, and we kept wishing that this nightmare would just end somehow—any way, any time.
But then, out of nowhere, something happened that none of us could’ve ever imagined.
3 - A window overlooking hell
And suddenly with unexpected warnings ,a warplane bombed our house—I didn’t realize it at first. But when I turned my eyes toward the kitchen window, it looked like it was glowing with an unnaturally intense light, as if our house had been transported from Earth to Mercury. It felt like the gates of hell had burst open. That sudden brightness vanished in a flash, just as quickly as it had appeared. Later, we found out that the missile had landed between my grandfather’s car and our metal cooking gas cylinder. The car was full of fuel, and the cylinder was packed with gas. But by the grace of God, the missile didn’t explode.
Moments later, the smell of gunpowder started leaking from the bomb and filled the entire place at an insane speed. We only had two medical masks, and we gave them to my grandmother because she was sick at the time. As for us, we soaked white towels in water and pressed them against our mouths and noses to avoid inhaling the gunpowder.
4 - (Nobody cares, you're on your own)
During all of this, my mother kept desperately calling the Red Cross (ICRC) and the United Nations (UN), pleading with them to pressure the army to lift the siege on our town and establish a humanitarian corridor to get us out. Her efforts were in vain. But after several attempts, someone from the Red Cross finally answered and told her, “Ma’am, you should save your phone credit for real emergencies.”
My mother shouted back, “Do you think there’s any situation more critical than the one we’re in right now?” He hung up on her. I’ll never forget that moment. No one cared about the siege on Khuza’a — not the United Nations, not the Red Cross.
To be continued...
This story is true and happened to the writer. Any party that wants to publish it should consult the owner of the intellectual property rights (the writer)
May God belss you
And may God bless & protect Gaza
Basel Q