A 34-year-old resident of al-Bureij R.C., Hanaa recounted losing her sister, Amani, and her brother-in-law, who were killed in bombings, and about her orphaned nephew who’s been left in her care.
At the start of the war, my sister Amani, 36, was seven months pregnant. She had been trying to get pregnant for 16 years with no success, and went through many treatments, including four rounds of IVF that failed. The fifth time worked—she got pregnant.
On the morning of 7 October 2023, Amani panicked because of the rockets and went into labor. She went with our sister Siham to Shuhada al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir al-Balah, but the conditions there were bad, so they transferred her to al-Awda Hospital in Nuseirat R.C. Al-Awda couldn’t admit her either because they don’t have a neonatal unit, so she was transferred again, this time to a-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City. Since the baby was at risk, they admitted her to the maternity ward and gave her injections to delay the labor. The conditions at a-Shifa were terrible, and because so many injured people were coming in, they ended up clearing out the maternity ward at the end of October and moved all the women to the private al-Hilu International Hospital in the a-Nasser neighborhood of western Gaza, which also specializes in fertility treatments.
Amani only stayed at al-Hilu for two or three days. She heard from one of the doctors that the army was threatening to bomb the hospital, so she decided to leave—and on 1 November 2023, the hospital was indeed bombed. Amani wanted to come back to us in al-Bureij, but things were really bad here and I thought it was too dangerous for her. Instead, she went to relatives in Nuseirat R.C. and stayed there for about a month-and-a-half. During that time, the family home of her husband, Muhammad al-Qreinawi (38, who was also our cousin) – which was next to ours – and our home were bombed. In that bombing, his father Ali al-Qreinawi, 65, his brother Ibrahim al-Qreinawi, 38, and my brother Hazem Mousa al-Qreinawi, 39, were killed. After the bombing, we moved into a relative’s house, which is also in al-Bureij. But Muhammad and his mother stayed in their house, which hadn’t been completely destroyed.
On 11 December 2023, Amani’s son was born via C-Section at the al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir al-Balah. She and her husband named him Ousamah. She was released from the hospital that same day and moved to the house of relatives in a-Nuseirat R.C. Over the next ten days, her husband Muhammad came to visit her everyday to see how she was doing, and then would return to al-Bureij R.C. to take care of his elderly mother.
On 26 December 2023, at around midnight, his family’s building was again bombed and this time completely destroyed. It was a five-story building where many women and children lived. Muhammad was killed together with his mother, Maryam al-Qreinawi, 60, and his brother Salam al-Qreinawi, 34. The people that survived the bombing were rescued from the ruins, but they weren’t able to extract the dead bodies because the heavy bombing continued. The next day, the army invaded al-Bureij R.C., and it was only when they left about five days later that relatives were able to come and pull out the dead bodies with help from the civil defense and the municipality.
Right after the bombing, we went to see Amani. We didn’t want to tell her that her husband and his family had been killed, but we did tell her that there had been a bombing and that it wasn’t yet clear what had happened to them. She was in complete shock and said she would be patient and keep hoping that they’d find her husband alive, for baby Ousamah’s sake. At that point, the rest of my family and I relocated to al-Salah School in Deir al-Balah, but it was very crowded there. At first, we were afraid that if Amani and little Ousamah joined us, he might be exposed to illnesses, so we preferred that they stay with our relatives in Nuseirat. But then the army threatened to bomb the Nuseirat R.C., and Amani decided to come join us anyway.
After Amani joined us at the school, she decided she wanted to go back to work at an NGO that supports orphaned children, and we agreed that I would take care of Ousamah while she was working. The NGO sent her to work at Khadija School in Deir al-Balah, across from the school we had moved to. Khadija School was also being used as a shelter for displaced people, and part of it was designated for the wounded and elderly. Amani’s job involved running activities for children, distributing money to families and packages of food to the kids.
On the morning of 27 July 2024, Amani went to work and left Ousamah with me. She said it was going to be a very busy day and that she might stay at work until the evening. At 11:00 A.M., I suddenly heard heavy bombing nearby. I saw that Israeli fighter jets were bombing over and over, one building next to the other, creating a belt of fire. People started saying that the bombings had targeted Khadija School. I left Ousamah with my sisters-in-law and ran as fast as I could to the school. When I got there, I saw people who were severely wounded, dead bodies and body parts everywhere. Most of the casualties were women and children. The place was completely destroyed. Suddenly I saw my sister Amani among the bodies. She was injured in the head and back—it was a sight I can’t even begin to describe. The young men who had pulled her out of the rubble said she was badly wounded, but I knew she was gone. She was taken to Shuhada al-Aqsa Hospital and I went with her. When we arrived, the doctors pronounced her dead. In that moment, all I could think about was Ousamah. How will he live and grow up without parents? I started crying and screaming—I was in shock. I sat next to her body for about two hours, crying. I didn’t have a phone, so I borrowed one from a friend to tell our parents and siblings that Amani had died. They came to the hospital and said their goodbyes to her with deep sadness and pain.
Even after she was buried, I couldn’t process that Amani was gone. After the funeral, I went back to the school to check on Ousamah, and on the way, people in the street told me the army was threatening to bomb the school and that everyone had left. I found Ousamah with my sisters-in-law in a tent set up by my relatives in Deir al-Balah. I took him into my arms, held him tight, and cried.
Three days later, Ousamah and I went back to the school—which in the end hadn’t been bombed—and we’re still living in one of its classrooms.
Losing my sister is unbearable, but I accept this fate from God. Ousamah is now nine months old. Amani always asked me to look after him and care for him, as if she knew in advance she was going to die. She always told me, “You’ll be the one to take care of him, because you’re like me.” He was everything to Amani, and after his father was killed, she tried to make it up to him. Everyone at the displaced persons’ school knows how much Amani took care of him and spoiled him. Now I’m trying to give him everything he needs. I change his clothes and feed him, and try to make up for his mother’s absence, for the softness and love he won’t get to receive from her. In the displaced person’s camp where we live there are five other kids who lost their fathers, but Ousamah is the only one who lost both his father and his mother. Some of those kids are our relatives, and their mothers also help me take care of him to try and make up for his mother’s death. Before she was killed, my sister used to show Ousamah a picture of his father on her phone and tell him, “Look, this is your dad,” so he’d recognize him. Now I show him pictures of his mother and father on the phone so he’ll know who they were, and in the morning, I say to him, “Look, here are your parents. Say good morning to them.” I don’t know what Ousamah did to deserve growing up without a mother and father. There’s no explanation for it. They were murdered in cold blood, and their son was orphaned. I’m heartbroken for him, and for my sister and her husband, who waited 16 years for a child, and when they finally had Ousamah – they were killed and left him forever.
* Testimony given to Olfat al-Kurd on 29 September 2024