My first thoughts were with Mohammed Noufal’s sister Janat when I learned about his murder and the murder of his coworkers on Al Jazeera. She is a kind, kind girl with a beautiful smile who ran an online store selling girls’ accessories while she was still in college. She is a nice girl with a beautiful smile.
When she learned of her brother’s martyrdom, she already had lost several members of her family. I had a moment of compassion for her and the agonizing suffering she must endure. I was struck by how her story reflects the fate of so many Palestinian families who have endured slow death, member by member, for the past almost two years.
A missile struck Janat’s family home in Jabalia on October 30, 2023, just three weeks after the start of the conflict. Mohammed suffered serious injuries, but she and her sisters and brothers managed to survive. Their aunt and uncle were murdered.
Omar, Janat’s eldest brother, was killed on October 7, 2024 when the Israeli army hit the same location again, killing him.
Then, on June 22, her mother, Muneera, passed away. When the Israeli army launched an Israeli missile over the area, she was visiting relatives. When Uneera was struck by shrapnel, she was taken to a hospital where she was still alive, but she passed away 39 hours later.
Mohammed and six other journalists were killed when Israel bombed a media tent close to al-Shifa Hospital on August 10th.
Janat now only has her sisters Ola, Hadeel, and Hanan with her father Riyad, her brother Ibrahim, and her sisters.
When my older brother, Omar, passed away, our father groaned and said, “You’ve broken my back, oh God,” Janat told me when I reached out to her.
My father said in a hoarse voice, “We have been struck down,” when we lost my mother Muneera.
When my journalist brother Mohammed was killed, he said nothing. He uttered no words, he didn’t cry, or scream. I was heartbroken when I realized that his silence might forever break him. I was more worried about his stillness than I was about his grief.
Janat tried to persuade Mohammed’s brother Ibrahim to quit his job as a journalist after he was martyred because she was afraid for him. The last person to provide for her, their father, and her sisters was her husband. He rebuffed, saying that God only would provide for them what they had written. He informed her that he wanted to follow their martyred brother and his coworkers.
The suffering experienced by Janat after losing her loved ones has become intolerable. The next loss would bring us back to the same darkness when we first thought we could breathe a little. Fear has become a constant companion, watching us from every angle of our lives, not just a passing sensation. She said, “Loss has become a part of our existence, and grief has settled into the details of daily life, in every prolonged silence and paused smile.”
Her words echoe the suffering of many Gaza-based families.
As of March this year, 2,200 Palestinian families had been completely expelled from the civil registry, with all of their members dead, according to the Government Media Office. There was only one family member left of 120 more than 5 families.
With each bombing wave, Palestinian families are constantly at risk of extinction.
My own family members have also been removed from the civil registry. A sizable portion of our extended family was made up of my father, Ghassan, who had eight cousins: Mohammed, Omar, Ismail, Firas, Khaled, Abdullah, Ali, and Marah. We started losing them one after the other as war broke out. Each loss creates a new gap, as if we were being compelled to go through a downward spiral of grief.
Only Omar and Ismail’s wives and their two children are still alive today. My father quietly endures this great loss, deeply ensnaring his sorrow.
We have yet another Israeli offensive in northern Gaza right now. Zehor tens of thousands of people died as a result of the Israeli atrocity last year. The south’s residents who defied forced displacement paid a price.
Many of us who have lost loved ones don’t want to go through the horror once more. My family and I moved north last year, but we are now exhausted. We’ve experienced a lot of bombing, death, and terror. This time, we’ll leave. Janat’s family, who fervently remained in Jabalia after their half-destroyed home, will also leave.
No human being can endure atrocities that we have witnessed. We can’t allow another death to occur.
Source: Aljazeera
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