Btselem / 15 March 2024

On 7 October 2023, Israel started heavily bombing our neighborhood, al-Mukhabarat, in Gaza City. The next day, I left home with the children: Adam, 5, Menatallah, 13, Ahmad, 16, Maram, 19 and Muhammad, 20. My husband Mahmoud, 47, stayed home. We moved to my 36-year-old sister Ikram’s house in a-Naser neighborhood, in the western part of the city. Two days later, the bombings in our neighborhood grew even heavier and things got scary, so my husband joined us at my sister’s house. By that time, there was no electricity or running water there.

They made me stand on the side and then a female soldier told me to strip down to my underwear and bra

A week later, the Israeli military dropped flyers in my sister’s neighborhood, telling everyone to leave the northern part of the city and go to the southern Gaza Strip.

We couldn’t leave town because we didn’t have any money. We also don’t have relatives in the south, so we went to an UNRWA clinic in that neighborhood. We all slept huddled together on one mattress in the hallway, with one blanket that wasn’t big enough to cover all of us, and we were very cold. My sister and her family slept next to us. There were incessant bombings near the clinic too, and it was terrifying. There was a shortage of food and water. We stayed there for about three weeks and that whole time we got only two food packages.

When we found out the military was getting close to the area, we ran away from there to my parents’ house in the a-Sheikh Radwan neighborhood. The next day, we heard tanks were in the area of the clinic, so we were lucky we ran away in time. We had no water or supplies for cooking at my parents’ house, either. Even flour was impossible to get.

We lived at my parents’ for about three weeks. On the night of 2 December, we heard military tanks getting close and shelling. One shell landed on the neighbors’ house, across from my parents’. My children were screaming in fear and I really felt death was coming for us all. Early in the morning, we called the Civil Defense and asked them to come get us out. They arrived around 6:00 A.M. and took all of us to the government school in the neighborhood. We managed to take just one bag each, and when we got there, we settled in one of the classrooms. My sister Ikram and her family were with us, and some of my brothers also came with their families. About two hours after we got to the school, my brother Ihab, 47, went back to his house to pick up a few things along with one of his sons, Muhammad, 24, and two of our nephews, Muhannad, 27 and Khalil Zaher, 24. They were killed passing by on the street. When I was told, I burst into tears. The four bodies were brought to the school. We said our goodbyes and then we buried them in the soccer field by the school.

On 20 December, my brother Hani, 44, was killed by military fire when he left his mother-in-law’s house, where he was living with his wife and their five children, to get them food and drink. I couldn’t take the pain anymore and I started screaming. He was buried before I could say goodbye to him. My mental state has been getting worse and worse ever since.

They put us in a cage that had just a small mattress and a thin blanket that wasn’t enough for all of us

There was a shortage of water and food at the school, too, and the conditions there were very difficult. We couldn’t even get mattresses, so we slept on some blankets people gave us.

On 24 December, four days after Hani was killed, Israeli military tanks and bulldozers arrived at the school. The bulldozers tore down the fences and then soldiers came in and ordered us on loudspeakers to come out of the building. Everyone went outside. The soldiers made all the men stand separately from the women and children, and then they ordered them to strip down to their underwear. They were split into groups of four and led towards a-Taqawa Mosque, which is near the school. There were a few large pits by the mosque and a lot of soldiers hanging around, and I was afraid they were going to bury us all there.

I held Adam, my 5-year-old, by the hand. He was crying all the time, because he had an upset stomach and was in pain. Suddenly, one of the soldiers told me to let go of Adam’s hand and hand him over to my sister. Another soldier told me to move aside and give him my ID card. The soldiers started reading out the women’s names, and then a few female soldiers led the women to a house nearby. They made me stand on the side and then a female soldier told me to strip down to my underwear and bra. I did, and then she scanned my whole body with a device. Then she told me to get dressed, and then an interrogator came and started asking me what I was doing on 7 October and whether I was eating candy that day. He asked me if there were any Hamas people at the school. When I said I didn’t know, he said that if I didn’t help him get information, the army would take me and I’d never see my little boy again.

Then the soldiers led me to a jeep. They tied a piece of cloth over my eyes and ties my hands in front with zip ties. They put me in a jeep with a few other women and started driving. I managed to lift the blindfold a bit and saw we were near the sea. I saw a sign that said Zikim (a kibbutz in southern Israel). We were taken out of the jeep, and they made us on the ground with our hands tied for an hour. Then some soldiers led us to a cell. Sometime after that, we were taken outside, put in the jeep again, and it took off.

During the drive, every time we raised our head or moved because the zip ties hurt, they hit us on the head.

We were taken out of the jeep and a female soldier pushed me and I fell on the ground. I felt blood dripping under my left eye, but some soldiers picked me up and led me to a room in a detention facility. In the room, the zip ties and blindfold were taken off and then I was told to fully undress. Some female soldiers scanned me with an electronic device and gave me a gray sweatsuit to wear. Then a doctor came into the cell and examined me. When I told him I’d fallen and was in pain, he only gave me Acamol (paracetamol).

Then the soldiers took me and a few other women outside to the yard and left us like that, handcuffed and blindfolded. It was very cold outside, and they yelled at us and laughed when they saw us suffering. They put us in a cage that had just a small mattress and a thin blanket that wasn’t enough for all of us. We asked the soldiers for more blankets, but they refused. We stayed there like that for eight days, with barely any food. At night we got a piece of dry bread with a little labneh cheese and an apple. We had to eat with our hands tied, and that’s how we went to the bathroom, too. It was awful. One time, one of the soldiers poured the labneh on the ground and swore at us. At night, the soldiers barely let us sleep. They played loud music, banged on the iron doors, shouted and swore at us.

On 31 December, we were taken out of the cage and dragged to a bus, like animals. The bus started driving and the whole way, the female soldiers guarding us wouldn’t let us lift our heads. They swore at us, hit us on our hands and took pictures of us. After some time, the bus stopped. We were taken off it and each asked our name and photographed. A female soldier grabbed us by the head and ordered us to kiss the Israeli flag. Another female soldier bashed my head against the side of the bus.

We were taken to Damun Prison, where I was put in an interrogation room. There was an interrogator there who introduced himself as a Shin Bet officer and asked me all kinds of questions about my husband, our children and my brothers. He asked me if I knew where the Hamas tunnels were, and when I said I didn’t, he asked why I was arrested. I told him I didn’t know and that he should ask the army. Then they took me out of there and brought me to an infirmary for a checkup. Then they put me and four other women in a small cell that was meant for maybe one or two people.

I couldn’t sleep at night and kept thinking the whole time about my husband and children. I didn’t even know if they were alive

It was very stuffy in that cell and we could barely move. We slept on very thin mattresses and were given a bit of food. We were all in very bad shape mentally. I couldn’t sleep at night and kept thinking the whole time about my husband and children. I didn’t even know if they were alive.

After about 20 days, on 7 February 2024, the head of the prison told us we were being released. I was taken in a bus, with about 22 other women and 50 men, to another prison. From there, we were driven to Kerem Shalom Crossing. I wasn’t given back the personal effects I had with me at the time of the arrest, which included a cell phone, a wedding ring and about 500 shekels (~ USD 140) in cash. We walked to Rafah Crossing (about three km), where UNRWA staff were waiting for us. They escorted us back into Gaza.

Since then, I’ve been at a school in the a-Su’oudi neighborhood in Rafah with a few other women who were with me in detention. It took a few days until I managed to get in touch with my husband and children. I found out they’re at an UNRWA IDP camp in a-Shati R.C. in the northern Gaza Strip. My husband said life was hard there, that they couldn’t get hold of anything to eat or drink and could barely get flour. He said they couldn’t get clean water and that they were bathing only once every two weeks.

There’s not enough to eat or drink here either. There are canned mushrooms, but we have no gas or dishes to cook. I still feel like I’m in prison. That feeling haunts me at night, too. I cry all the time, especially during the Iftar meal. It’s the first time I’ve been far from my husband and children and we haven’t gathered with the whole family, which is the custom during Ramadan. I also found out our home was bombed and destroyed.

* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researchers Olfat al-Kurd and Muhammad Sabah on 15 March 2024