Rami Qassem, farmer

I live with my parents, brothers, and sisters in al-Fartah, a neighborhood situated east of Beit Hanun, about one kilometer from the Israeli border. There are thirteen people in my family.

In December 2007, Raid Zakaria Hamed, 20, and Hazem Yasser Hamed, 23, and I leased a 2.5-dunam plot of farmland that lies about 1.2 kilometers from the Israeli border. The plot has a few orange trees and a small one-room structure, a bathroom, and a yard of about sixty square meters.

I leased it to farm the land and make a living from it. I bought scallion seedlings and set up a watering system. The three of us work there every day. We also spend our leisure time there and many times we invite friends to join us. It is considered a quiet, pleasant place, with clean air.

Almost every week, we spend time there with friends. We usually do this on Saturday because that is the only day off for our friend Muhammad Hasnein, who works at the Jordanian Bank in Gaza City.

We make a barbecue, smoke a hookah, drink tea and coffee, joke around and have a good time. We make sure to leave before sundown because there aren’t lights there, and at night the Israelis might suspect something and fire at us.

On Saturday, 23 February, around 2:30 P.M., my friends Muhammad Hasnein, Ibrahim Abu Jarad, and Muhammad Talal a-Z’anin arrived at the plot and waited for me to get there, so we can hang out together. They brought a hookah and snacks. Tareq a-Z’anin and Riad Hamed were supposed to join us later. Around 3:30, my friend Ahmad ‘Ali Hamed and I were on our way there on foot. I brought cards, coffee, tea, and charcoal. On the way, we listened to music on the cell phone and were laughing. When we got to about 150 meters from the plot, we heard an enormous explosion. I saw a thick cloud of dust ascend from the one-room structure on our land. At that moment I told Ahmad that our friends were dead. I couldn’t continue walking, and sat down. I was so frightened that it felt as if my legs were bound. I was helpless.

Ahmad continued on toward the plot. Two minutes later, after I recovered a bit, I got up and followed him. He arrived before me and told me that our friends had been killed. When I get there, I saw body parts all over the ground and blood on the walls of the room. There were missile fragments lying around. It was one of the worst scenes I ever witnessed. I never thought I would see something so hard, so painful and sad.

Ahmad and I cried over the friends we had lost. I called Riad Hamed and told him what happened and asked them to call for assistance. In the meantime, Tareq a-Z’anin arrived by car. We put the body of Muhammad a-Z’anin in the car and Tareq drove him to the hospital in Beit Hanun. An ambulance came and took the body parts of Muhammad Hasnein and Ibrahim Abu Jarad.

All we wanted to do was get out, laugh and have fun. I don’t understand why the Israelis killed my friends.

Rami Khamis Khalil Qassem, 20, lives in Beit Hanun, in the northern Gaza Strip. The testimony was given to Muhammad Sabah at the home of Muhammad a-Z’anin on 26 February 2008.