Rescued from the rubble – We Are Not Numbers


Rubble in Gaza.
Palestinian News & Information Agency (Wafa) in contract with APAimages.


We evacuated our home and moved south where they said it was safe. It wasn’t safe. They bombed where we were sheltering, and the building collapsed on our heads.

Scene where the author was trapped in rubble when the wall of house collapsed due to Israeli airstrike.
Images here and below from the writer’s Instagram account.


Miraculously my family escaped with minor injuries, but I was pulled from the rubble with multiple pelvic fractures. I was rushed to the European Gaza Hospital in Khan Younis in the south of the strip where I was left for three full days on an iron ambulance stretcher, unable to move.

On the first day a doctor told me not to eat or drink anything because I needed surgery. But when, how and where the surgery would take place no-one knew. Everyday more and more injured were arriving and their cases were more urgent than mine. I was without food, water and painkillers for 3 days on that iron stretcher, with the rocks and sand from the bombing still clinging to my wounds.

We were six casualties crammed into one small room. That soon became eight.  My family stayed with me, as did the families of the other injured. Day and night the room was crowded and noisy with visitors, doctors, nurses and those arriving with donations. We all shared one small bathroom that did not have a shower or even regular water.

"We don't have drinkable water or food even in the hospital."


"Every day, a soul dies here in the room. Every day, I witness this with my own eyes. 7-8 injured people are staying in one small rom. None of us gets the needed medical assistance. My heart is so heavy. I sleep like half an hour a night, during which I wake up on a terrifying nightmare. If I survive, would all of this ever leave me?"

"I'm not okay. Every single minute I spend on this bed while hearing horrible news all around is killing me. I'm sick of pain, sick of helplessness, sick of suffering along with my ppl."


"11th day in the hospital. 11th day being unable to walk. Alamdullilah."

I spent 40 days in that hospital. On my worst days it was beyond terrible! The rest of the place was full of displaced people who slept on stairs and in the corridors, or in tents outside. It was more like a mass shelter than a hospital. There could be no rest or sleep due to the endless din of noise.

"I'm tired of smelling blood every day I'm tired of witnessing this I'm tired of being here I'm tired of living all of this"


"It's been one month now since the last time I was able to walk naturally.. I miss walking and standing on my feet. I miss sleeping without having nightmares of being bombed again. I wanna go back to my home.. I miss my bed, my clothese, my bathroom, my food, and my life."


"Nightmares never leave me. It's the first time for the reality to be harsher than my nightmares. I'm not terrified of nightmares anymore. What is happening in Gaa and to my people is insanely much uglier"

This is not just a story about a place of healing becoming a place of death – and it is not only my story. My people all over Gaza have long suffered this almost indescribable situation.  The Israeli occupation is committing horrendous crimes against humanity in complete defiance of all international law. The world must see that their actions against the innocent are lawless – and rescue us all from the rubble.

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