A 23-year-old, recounted how his cousins and neighbor were run over and killed trying to get flour and canned food from an aid convoy to northern Gaza
Until the war I lived in Jabalya Refugee Camp with my parents and my siblings Bassem, 27, Fatimah, 18, and Mustafa, 15.
We stayed home despite the bombings and even though the army ordered the residents of northern Gaza to move south, because we have no family or friends in the south and nowhere else to go. In November, our house was hit by a bombing, and several family members were lightly injured. We were left with only one room in the house that we could use.
On 1 December 2023, the army ordered us to move to western Gaza, so we went to al-Yarmuk School in Gaza City. After two weeks, the army raided the school, and we were forced to leave again. This time we moved to a-Shifaa Hospital and stayed there for a few days, and then we moved to relatives in a-Shati Refugee Camp. But the situation there was also very bad, and there was nothing to eat or drink. In the end, we went back to our destroyed home in Jabalya R.C.
We’re still here, in the ruins of the house, under impossible conditions. We eat one meal a day, mostly khubeza plants that we gather ourselves. We barely manage to get flour, which costs 120 shekels a kilo. If aid somehow arrives, then the price drops to 50 shekels. There is almost no water, for drinking or for bathing. We bathe once a week.
When aid trucks arrive at al-Kuwait Square in eastern Gaza or at a-Nabulsi Square in western Gaza, I go there with my cousins and neighbors. I went there about 10 times and couldn't get anything, not even a little flour, because there are so many hungry people here. Every time I went home, 10 kilometers on foot, empty-handed.
The last time I went to al-Kuwait Square with my cousins, Fares al-Ghandur, 33, Muhammad al-Ghandur, 28, Bader al-Ghandur, 23, and my neighbor Yazid Hijazi, 29. We walked there, hoping to succeed this time. We got there at 9:00 P.M., and there were already a lot of hungry people waiting for aid.
We waited until 10:00 P.M., and then 15 trucks arrived carrying mainly bags of flour and also canned goods. The moment they arrived, before they even stopped, a lot of people rushed at them and grabbed the flour and canned goods. Then we heard gunshots. My cousins, my neighbor, and I ran away and lay down on the ground. Some people were injured. The trucks kept on driving fast and ran over people.
At that point, I lost my cousins and my neighbor, because of the darkness and the panic from the gunshots. I saw horrifying sights and ran away from there. But I knew I couldn't go back empty-handed. That I needed to get a bag of flour and some canned goods for myself and my family. I got up and jumped onto a truck. I took a 25-kilo bag of flour and ran. I couldn't find my cousins or my neighbor. I waited a bit on the side and then started looking for them, but couldn't find them. There were a lot of people there and the gunshots continued, and everyone was panicking.
After a few minutes, I spoke on the phone with the wife of my cousin Fares, and she told me she tried to call his phone, and someone answered and said he was dead. When I heard that, I started looking for them again, and when I couldn't find them, I went to a-Shifaa Hospital and al-Ma’madani. I searched for them until 1:00 A.M. and didn't find them. I went home without my cousins and without my neighbor.
The next morning, I went back to al-Kuwait Square to continue looking for them, and then I found Fares and Bader and Muhammad lying dead on the ground. They were run over to death under the wheels of the trucks.
I was shocked to the depths of my soul. The sight was horrifying. I recognized them only by their clothes. I cried so much and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My cousins died chasing after a bag of flour and some canned goods!
I took them and another body I found lying on the ground in a horse-drawn cart to a-Shifaa Hospital. They were buried in the hospital compound. I found out that my neighbor, Yazid Hijazi, went to a-Shifaa Hospital injured at night, but he also died the next morning.
It was a horrific tragedy for me. I lost my cousins and my neighbor, all of them my friends, just to get some flour and canned goods after months of starving. The hunger here is real and extreme, and we have no other way to get food. We go there and risk our lives because it's the only option, but when you go, you don't know if you'll come back.
Now I don't know if I'm capable of going there again. On the other hand, when the flour runs out at home, I won't have any choice, despite the danger. The other option is to die of hunger. The flour we have will last for at least two weeks, and then I won't have any other choice. I'll have to risk it again and try to get flour.
My cousins and my neighbor paid with their lives for trying to get flour, but hunger forces people to do unbelievable things. Maybe I'll be the next victim. That’s our situation here in the northern Gaza Strip. My family is dying of hunger, and I can't bear to see them without any food at all. It drives me to go there and try to bring back some flour, to slightly ease our hunger.
* Testimony given over the phone to B’Tselem field researcher Muhammad Sabah on 12 March 2024