Btselem / 26 June 2024

My family and I live in my grandfather’s house in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood of Gaza City. 

On Saturday morning, 7 October 2023, my brother Ahmad (10) and I were getting ready for school when we started hearing bombings. When they continued, we thought the situation might get worse and my father asked us to take off our school uniforms. He said we’d stay home that day and that a war was about to break out in Gaza. We stayed home and followed the news. We heard about bombings and Israeli airplanes in the northern Gaza Strip.

The next day, they started bombing Gaza City and other areas. I heard explosions everywhere, even close to our home. I heard about people injured and killed, and about houses, government institutions and other buildings destroyed. It was very scary. It felt like a war. We were all scared because of the bombings and the sound of airplanes all the time.

I felt pain and fell down. Suddenly, I saw an Israeli army jeep and realized they’d shot at me from the jeep

After a week, the Israeli army scattered leaflets that said people from Gaza City and the north had to evacuate their homes and move to the south. My dad tried to think of a place in southern Gaza where we could go, but he couldn’t find any.

He decided we’d go to the ‘Abd a-Rahman bin-Awf School near our home. We took a few things and left immediately. When we got there, we saw other people, some from our area and some displaced from the eastern part of the city. We stayed there for a long time.

We heard bombings, F-16 jets, surveillance drones and quadcopters all the time. We heard about people killed and injured, and because of the danger, my dad wouldn’t let us leave the school grounds. We were only allowed to go as far as the school yard. We lived off food and water supplies that came to the school sometimes. But when things got worse, and the food deliveries stopped, we started to go out sometimes and go to organizations that handed out food products. We took them and brought them back to the school.

On Saturday, 3 December 2023, I was playing soccer in the school yard with my brother Ahmad, a friend and some kids from other displaced families, when I was injured by shrapnel from live fire along with my brother and two other kids. We started bleeding and my father bandaged our wounds.

After that, my father decided the school was no longer safe and we had to find somewhere else to go, even though nowhere was safe in Gaza. He started looking for another place. He called his friends, but couldn’t find a safe place where we could all be together. All the houses and apartments were already full of families and displaced people. So he decided we would stay at the school, even though we were afraid it would be bombed again.

When I woke up, I found myself tied to a bed. They told me I’d had surgery that included grafts and stitches, and that the bullets were still lodged in my stomach, leg and thigh

We stayed at the school. We kept hearing bombings, planes and shells falling near us all the time. We were constantly afraid. You can’t stay like that, but we couldn’t leave, either.

On Tuesday, 25 March 2024, in the middle of Ramadan, when we had nothing to eat, I walked to some farmland in the town of Beit Lahia, about four or five kilometers from the school. I was hoping to find some vegetables we could eat. That was after several days without any food at all, except completely stale bread. My father couldn’t get anything else.

When I reached the farmland, before I had a chance to see if there was any food there, I heard shooting nearby. I felt pain and fell down. Suddenly, I saw an Israeli army jeep and realized they’d shot at me from the jeep. My stomach and left leg and thigh hurt, and I saw a lot of blood coming out. I thought I was going to die.

A soldier came up to me and stepped on my face with his boot. He ordered me to get up. I told him I couldn’t stand on my legs. He said, “We’ll kill you.” I told him again that I couldn’t get up, and he left me alone. I lay there, bleeding, and started reciting the Shahada [a verse from the Quran recited before death] because I was sure I was going to die. 

But soon after, some soldiers came, lifted me up, put me in the jeep and took me to a hospital. On the way, I wasn’t really conscious any more and didn’t know what was happening. When I woke up, I found myself tied to a bed. They told me I’d had surgery that included grafts and stitches, and that the bullets were still lodged in my stomach, leg and thigh.

I asked the doctors, who were in regular civilian clothes, to give me something for the pain, but they refused. I pleaded with them because I couldn’t bear the pain. But I had to handle it

It hurt so much that I started screaming. I asked the doctors, who were in regular civilian clothes, to give me something for the pain, but they refused. I pleaded with them because I couldn’t bear the pain. But I had to handle it, because they didn’t give me anything.

A week after I got to the hospital, they took me to a detention facility. There were sheds with small cells inside. They put me in one that already had 13 inmates — older men I didn’t know. They were pale and skinny, and you could see they’d been badly tortured and beaten a lot. They looked like they’d been there a long time. They could barely stand or walk. Still, they took care of me, because I couldn’t stand up at all and needed their help to get to the toilet. I never got to the shower.

We got very little food and water. At night, they didn’t let us sleep. The guards would swear at us for hours, and bring dogs that barked at us and tried to attack us. They told us again and again that they would bomb our families and that we’d see our relatives dead, that they’d show us pictures of them dead. Sometimes, they tased us. They humiliated and tortured us every day. 

They took away our most basic rights, including the right to food. They brought us very little food and water. We all suffered from malnutrition and were weak and very tired all the time. We were allowed to go to the toilet only once or twice a day, and to shower once every 10 days.

They told us again and again that they would bomb our families and that we’d see our relatives dead

Two days before I was released, they took me to a hospital. I had surgery on my thigh and got stitches. They told me, “We took care of you and treated you. Don’t say ‘they didn’t take care of me, they left me bleeding, didn’t do surgeries and never gave me painkillers.’"

Two days later, on 15 April 2024, I left the hospital in an ambulance. On the way, the ambulance stopped and soldiers opened the door. One of them asked me who shot me. I said, “the Jews.” The officer said that if I was accusing them of shooting me, they’d kill me now and throw me on the road for dogs to eat my corpse. I started crying. I was afraid they really would do it, throw me to the dogs.

After that, the ambulance continued driving and took me to the Kerem Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom) army checkpoint. There were a lot of soldiers there. They handed me over to UNRWA workers, who took me to the European Hospital in Khan Yunis. I was in a terrible state because of the medical neglect, malnutrition, beatings and torture. They ran tests, and the doctors told me that the bullet that hit my thigh caused paralysis and that I had to get treatment abroad, so I could walk again and one day go back to normal life.

My family is still in the north, and I’m living in a tent with my grandmother and uncle on my mother’s side, east of Khan Yunis. I’m bedridden and can’t walk on my own. I depend on others for help and need constant care, because of the excruciating pain. To get better, I need healthy food, but there’s no chicken or fish here. Even if there were, we wouldn’t have the money to buy it.

All we have to eat is a little bread and canned food. We eat only once a day and drink very little water, because everything is scarce. To get water, you have to walk a long way and stand in a very long line for a container of eight liters. We need to drink a lot in this heat, but we can’t.

The lack of food and drinking water is also making me badly constipated. My wounds hurt all the time and I’m dizzy and weak. The only medication I get is painkillers.

* Testimony given to B'Tselem field researcher Muhammad Sabah on 26 June 2024