We see death everywhere and every minute.
The Israeli occupation has wiped out whole neighborhoods in Gaza.
I had to leave with my family from the Bureij camp to the Deir El-Balah camp.
There was a huge bombing near my family’s home at 2 o’clock in the morning. Most of our windows were destroyed.
We had to flee our home in the middle of the night. I just had to hold on to my children and run.
There are 26 martyrs that we know of so far. Many more are still under the rubble. Five whole families were removed from the civil registry in that bombing.
Hospitals in Gaza are running out of medical supplies and beds. Dead bodies are lying on the ground. Most of them are kids and women.
Israeli warplanes have bombed residential homes, mosques, and agricultural land across the Gaza Strip.
We have no water or electricity. We have to charge our phones in the market using solar panels.
There is sometimes internet if I use a mobile phone, but it’s only connected for two minutes and then disconnected for hours again. I connect to the internet for two hours in every 24.
I heard the Israelis have told us to evacuate to safe areas. But no place is safe in Gaza. They tell the people to leave to the south, and then they are still bombing in the south.
Now, while I write this, there is a bombing, and at the same time an attack on a civilian car moving to the south.
I use Twitter to share information about what is happening. If I don’t tweet for a while, know that I’m dead.
We don’t fear this situation. This is not the first aggression we have faced and will not be the last one. We have seen death many times before. And, in the end, there is Jannah.
The occupier’s crimes violate all our civil and legal rights, and violate the laws of freedom in all its forms.
We have been living in an open prison for seventy years, under the crimes of the occupation, which controls us as it pleases, kills whenever it pleases, and cuts off our supplies, electricity, and water.
We are a people who only demand our freedom and our rights; this is the least that any human beings on the face of the Earth can demand.
I just heard of another bombing in the south; two martyrs and eight injuries.
My children are crying and screaming. They are young; just five and two years old.
If I die, remember that I—we—were individuals, humans. We had names, dreams, and achievements, and our only fault was to be classified as inferior.
My battery is about to die again.
Pray for us.
Said Shoaib is a Palestinian who lives with his family in Gaza.
All views expressed are the author’s own.
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