![]() No words can describe the things they are going through there. And if the zionist think that this will scare us into submission, they need to think again, we only submit to Allah, we will never give up, we live and die with dignity and honour.” This isn’t a fictional story, this is how we spent last night. We decided to go back to the lower level apartments, we were tired, we huddled and slept close to the door when deep down we knew that just like there is no where safe in Gaza, no place in our house is safer than any other.Įvery house was hit, every building, every mosque, they have no targets, they do not know what they are doing. We knew the zionist don’t hit as hard in day light as they do at night, where the cameras can’t capture the full scale of the destruction. Was it over? The sun is now up, and we were happy to see it. Time has passed, it was quiet for an hour. Moments later, a funny smell, we ran for any wet cloth, water on shirt and over the face will do. All we could see are huge fire balls in the sky, light almost turning around corners. 4 hours passed, non-stop shelling, then we can hear them coming, by their sound, the F16 fighter jets have arrived.īy the time we made that realization, an explosion so powerful dropped us to the ground, rubble and smoke flew in, then quickly another closer one, then a third one a little further. The bombing was intense, everywhere, north, south, east, west, it was random, every minute non-stop, we were just waiting our turn, like cattle for slaughter. We took our shahada, we were convinced this is our last night, that we wouldn’t make it. Then an even bigger bomb, louder than the first, the whole building shook, rubble flying onto our building, windows and glass smashing everywhere. The children were crying, so were their mothers, it was chaotic. ![]() We decided that the 23 families should stay on the ground floor near the stairs. And if we make a run for it they will target us, they always target moving groups. Do we leave? Where do we go? There is no place to go. ![]() With the cloths on our backs we all ran downstairs to the ground floor. Was this a roof knock? Was her apartment really hit? Myself and 2 more ran upstairs to see, all we can see is smoke in her apartment, the bedrooms where her children sleep have smashed walls, a missile has hit her home. We rush to the door, there is a woman carrying her 3 children running downstairs, “they hit our apartment” she screamed repeatedly. We hear screaming from the floor above us. Then a huge blast, so powerful it felt like the building was going to collapse. Around 1 am the bombing was so intense that we decided to huddle together as a family in the living room away from the windows. How can you comfort a heart of a mother who longs for her child? How can you comfort a heart of a father who wanted to see how his baby would grow up? How can you comfort a heart of a brother or a sister who misses his or her best companion?ĭo you have any idea, how these kids go on with their daily lives? Let me quote the wordings of Khalid Elmezaini: Look closely to their smiles for these are smiles that will never be seen again, for you have made their names nothing but just names on a list. Look at the pictures of these children, how can a baby who barely walks who just learned how to walk be a terrorist? My heart asks, who are you to interfere? Who are you to take his life? What has my baby done to you? How could you kill an innocent child who just wants to live his life, to finish his studies, to help his family, and one day become a doctor or an engineer and have his own family? How can the death of someone bring such joy to someone’s heart? My cries do not affect your heart, my whining doesn’t reach the ears, my pain doesn’t mean anything to you, but to Allah we complain, our hearts are shattered with the endless killing of our brethren. He is a little boy that wants to play, he is so good at football and when he kicks the ball it goes for a win, is this the reason why you killed my boy? because he is a good player? Is it her crying that bothers you? Is it her smile that envies you? She is a child, she could barely utter the word Mama, she smiles when you touch her face, she cries at night but she stops when I carry her. What has my baby done to you for you to come with missiles hovering my home just to kill my baby? Did my child hurt you? Did my baby take your candy? Did my child ate your food?
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