“Even though we had endured nearly 600 days of this war of extermination, I didn’t believe we would survive this day. It was a living nightmare.”
Donya Abu Sitta
On May 19, a wave of sorrow swept through the city of Khan Younis. Residents were awakened at 6:30 a.m. to the sounds of low-flying warplanes and explosions nearby. My younger brothers—Kareem, 18, and Salman, 14—had gone out a few minutes earlier to gather firewood to boil water for our unsweetened tea.
My older brother, Hassan, went out to look for Kareem and Salman and found them standing frozen in the street. They were paralyzed with fear. Hassan brought them home, and I went out on the balcony of our fifth-floor apartment to try and see what was happening around us.
I saw F-16 fighter jets and Apache helicopters flying very close by—so close, I felt like I could reach out and touch them. It was the first time I ever witnessed a missile fired from a warplane. I saw the massive orange fireball unleashed as the bomb exploded not far away.
My older brother, Hassan, went out to look for Kareem and Salman and found them standing frozen in the street. They were paralyzed with fear. Hassan brought them home, and I went out on the balcony of our fifth-floor apartment to try and see what was happening around us.
I saw F-16 fighter jets and Apache helicopters flying very close by—so close, I felt like I could reach out and touch them. It was the first time I ever witnessed a missile fired from a warplane. I saw the massive orange fireball unleashed as the bomb exploded not far away.
The buzzing of the drones overhead was deafening, but the sound of people's screams and wails were even louder. Everyone in the street was scattering hysterically, running for their lives. We live on a block with apartment complexes around a central courtyard, and I saw my neighbors standing by the windows trying to comprehend what was happening. Thick black smoke filled the air. Even though we had endured nearly 600 days of this war of extermination, I didn’t believe we would survive this day. It was a living nightmare.
It eventually became clear what had happened. News reports and eyewitness accounts described how an Israeli special forces unit had infiltrated Khan Younis to raid the home of Ahmed Sarhan, a commander in the Al-Nasser Salah al-Din Brigades, the military wing of the Popular Resistance Committees. The soldiers posed as displaced people—some disguised as women in civilian clothing—pulling a cart with mattresses piled high, but inside was a crate storing the weapons they would use for their operation. They stormed Sarhan’s home, but he reportedly resisted and fought back. According to witnesses, they killed him in front of his family and kidnapped his wife and children and shot dead another child in the street on their way out.
“The Israelis kidnapped a 10-year old child, kidnapped his mother, and executed his father in the middle of the house,” said a man standing outside the home after the raid in a video posted on social media. “It was like Armageddon in the neighborhood. Imagine the entire neighborhood being destroyed on top of its residents.” A quadcopter hovered nearby and witnesses described gunfire directed at anyone who moved.
To cover their withdrawal, the Israeli military had carpet bombed the area, launching over 40 airstrikes in 40 minutes, on some accounts. They targeted al-Hourani School, al-Thara intersection, Nasser Hospital, and the Jaser building not far from where my brothers had been.
Three hours later, the Israeli military issued new displacement orders for most of Khan Younis, stretching from the eastern border and encompassing much of the city. The military warned it would launch an “unprecedented attack” on the area. The bombing has not yet ended as I write these words.
Three hours later, the Israeli military issued new displacement orders for most of Khan Younis, stretching from the eastern border and encompassing much of the city. The military warned it would launch an “unprecedented attack” on the area. The bombing has not yet ended as I write these words.
According to a map published by the Israeli army online, the areas targeted for displacement comprise no less than 80 percent of Khan Younis, which includes shelters for hundreds of thousands of displaced Palestinians. Thousands of families in those areas began fleeing their shelters in a state of panic and chaos. The evacuation orders came just hours after Israel committed another horrific massacre by bombing several homes in Khan Younis, resulting in the deaths of more than 60 Palestinians, most of whom were children and women. The bombing of Khan Younis, including targeting Nasser hospital, is not stopping.
“Even though we had endured nearly 600 days of this war of extermination, I didn’t believe we would survive this day. It was a living nightmare.”
Donya Abu Sitta
Donya Abu Sitta
The scenes of mass displacement on Monday resembled a flock of birds moving together without any distance between them and with a persistent hunger gnawing at their insides. The roar of warplanes blended with the buzzing of drones. Families carried whatever belongings they could: torn mattresses, dusty blankets, ripped bags, and children. So many children. Some walked barefoot, while others dragged their school bags filled with clothes. Some carried empty water bottles. People filled the streets.
This is not the first time they have been displaced. There are families that have been displaced dozens of times. Each displacement leaves a deep scar on the soul and burdens families with painful memories. And we are all aware that Israel has repeatedly attacked the very sites it orders Palestinians to flee, at times directly striking the makeshift tents in places like Al-Mawasi, burning the displaced alive.
My family has not been displaced yet because there is nowhere to go. They have completely taken over Rafah; access to Gaza City in the north or the central area in Deir al-Balah has been all but cut off.
So where do we go? Let's stay in our house, we tell one another. If death is our fate, let us die in our home.
My family has not been displaced yet because there is nowhere to go. They have completely taken over Rafah; access to Gaza City in the north or the central area in Deir al-Balah has been all but cut off.
So where do we go? Let's stay in our house, we tell one another. If death is our fate, let us die in our home.
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