In December 2023, while I documented injuries and destruction at Kamal Adwan Hospital, the Israeli army surrounded me. After arresting, beating, and insulting me, they discarded my press card without any regard. They took me, along with a group of Palestinians, to a nearby field and detained me for 24 hours without interrogation or explanation. In detention, they destroyed all my photography equipment—cameras, phone, and laptop.
GAZA — On October 7, 2023 disaster struck [when Hamas attacked Israel]. Soon after, Israel declared war on Gaza. Our city, Beit Lahia, quickly turned into a heavily targeted border zone as Israeli warplanes launched relentless bombings. Amidst the bombardment and fire, we fled, abandoning our home. Fear gripped us as we ran, with no choice but to escape the escalating violence.
As we fled, I turned back and saw my home collapse before my eyes. Helplessness overwhelmed me as I struggled to accept how quickly our home vanished. We experienced every joy and sorrow of our lives in that home, now in ruins. As a result, displacement became a cruel pattern for my family. Each time we sought refuge farther away, the bombardment chased us, denying us peace.
I live in the northern part of the Gaza Strip, in Beit Lahia, a city once known for its tranquility. Soon, airstrikes and shelling violently ravaged our lives, plunging us into an unending hell. A suffocating siege trapped us, leaving us without water, food, or a way to escape the nightmare. Explosions define our daily existence, filling children’s eyes with terror, gripping mothers with fear, and leaving lifeless bodies in the streets. Eventually, these harrowing sights became disturbingly familiar to us.
As a freelance photojournalist, I strived to capture reality as it unfolded without embellishment or distortion. I soon realized photography and storytelling allowed me to amplify the cries of those who suffer in silence. Once, I dreamed of sharing the stories of our people with the world. However, now I stand at the epicenter of suffering I never imagined experiencing. Despite my desperate attempts to protect my family, everything crumbles around us, including our dreams of living safely.
Before the war, I lived much like anyone else, seeking peace and security with my family. Dedicated, I nurtured ambitious goals to advance my career in photojournalism, eager to share the human stories and struggles unfolding in Gaza. Through my work with international organizations, I documented the poignant experiences of people living through the ongoing challenges.
It felt like we constantly lived under siege, struggling to overcome the harshness of each day, striving for a decent life. Despite these hardships, we held onto moments of joy, clinging to hope and the will to persevere. Nevertheless, when war broke out, it wiped out even those brief glimpses of peace.
Notably, displacement did not end our suffering in Gaza. In December 2023, while I documented injuries and destruction at Kamal Adwan Hospital, the Israeli army surrounded me. After arresting, beating, and insulting me, they discarded my press card without any regard. They took me, along with a group of Palestinians, to a nearby field and detained me for 24 hours without interrogation or explanation.
In detention, they destroyed all my photography equipment—cameras, phone, and laptop. Helplessness and anger overwhelmed me as they silenced my voice, destroying the tools I used to share my people’s suffering. After my release, I felt mentally and physically shattered. Disrupted internet and communication networks prevented me from contacting my family.
For five days, I searched desperately, until I finally found my family in a shelter in Jabalia. Reuniting with them, I felt overwhelmed with joy, but it soon vanished. The war struck hardest when I lost my eldest son, Sajid, leaving me in deep sorrow. On December 20, 2023, an Israeli sniper shot Sajid as he attempted to get water in Beit Lahia. Tragically, a single bullet stole what was most precious to me.
As I watched Sajid die in front of my eyes, silence consumed me, as I carried an unbearable weight. Sadly, for 100 days, the closed roads and constant bombings prevented me from giving him a proper burial. Constantly, Sajid’s innocent face, laughter, and voice filled my thoughts, all destroyed by a single sniper’s bullet. Often, I wonder if I could have done more to protect him, but this war leaves no room for regret. Death surrounds us in every moment we live.
Today, I live in displacement, homeless, and without security, continuously moving with my family to find safety. Fear consumes me as death becomes a routine sight. Unfortunately, I see it everywhere—in the streets, in hospitals, and in children’s eyes. Devastatingly, Gaza holds no safe place. I send this message to the world: despite the harsh circumstances I endured, I will not stop conveying the truth.
I write these words to amplify the voices of those who cannot speak and share their unembellished reality. We lost our homes and loved ones. Yet, we continue to face the siege and relentless bombing, remaining resilient through it all. With unwavering resolve, I will capture people’s stories, speak for our community, and push to ensure our voices are heard.
Undoubtedly, this war goes beyond statistics; it reveals the real suffering every Palestinian endures. We are not just news headlines; we live as human beings with dreams and hopes. I share this testimony to reach those with the power to end this injustice. We seek to live with dignity and security, to protect our children and their future. Hopefully, my story reaches people around the world and ensures my people do not suffer in silence.