For the second day intensive Israeli military operations continue to kill and injure not only members of Hamas but also the civilians of the Gaza Strip. Israeli air strikes persistently hit police buildings, mosques, tunnels, homes, cars, and even pharmacy stores. Israeli jets targeted the main medical warehouse in Al Shifa hospital at a time when there is a severe lack of medical supplies due to the huge number of casualties caught up in this attack.
I wake up at 10 am after a very tense and terrified night with my two young children. Initially, I thought that once asleep I may never wake again.
So I slept with one eye open, in constant fear for my family's safety. At least every hour the intensive explosions woke me up in a state of panic. I constantly checked on my wife and kids, thinking that my home could be the next target of the Israeli jets. At 4 am, I woke up suddenly to the sound of my 15-month-old baby walking around the living room while sobbing. I rushed over to hold him tightly in my arms in an attempt to give him a sense of security. Twenty minutes later he fell asleep, as did I.
My mother called us over for breakfast. All our family gathered around the table. My mother, who suffers from heart problems, began to recount how she was unable to sleep all night—the loud explosions brutally awaking her, her heart pounding every time the Israeli jets hit a target close to our home.
My older brother and his wife could not sleep for the same reasons. She spent the night petrified, clutching her husband for dear life. We all began to laugh nervously, thinking of the worst.
My mother asked me to call my three sisters, who live in three different areas of Gaza City. They all told me their accounts of fear and how their kids were in a constant state of terror.
A few minutes later, my father received phone calls from my two brothers, one in Dubai, the other in Algeria. They too cried down the phone while asking after us. All at once a set of calls came from friends and family almost as if we had just returned from many years of travel.
My sister in-law from Khan Younis called me at 2 pm. She was stuck in Gaza City, no taxis around to take her home. She asked to stay at our house. On arrival she described Gaza City as being like a ghost town with rubble covering the streets, evidence of the on-going destruction.
It is no secret that the Gaza Strip is heavily dependent on supplies coming from Egypt via tunnels, especially since the Israeli blockade imposed on the Gaza strip was stepped up in November 2008. So, after we heard that the Israeli attacks had targeted the tunnels, my father went off to the grocery store to buy reserve food supplies.
When he came back he announced that food prices had tripled because of the destruction of the tunnels. I wanted to buy nappies for my two children. My younger brother went out but struggled to find anything.
I thought to myself, it is only a matter of days now until food and fuel becomes unavailable to us all.
We heard an announcement from the Israeli government that the attacks on Gaza would continue for a long time in spite of calls from regional and international bodies and organizations for them to stop.
From my home, the sound of ambulance sirens is nonstop. Of late, this sound of alarm can be heard throughout the Gaza Strip.
Every time I hear the sound of sirens after an explosion, I think about these ambulances carrying dead bodies and the injured. I am increasingly fearful for my children, family, and friends. I think to myself, the next ambulance might be carrying one of my friends, or a member of my family, or even me.
