A 38-year-old mother of six from a-Rimal neighborhood in Gaza City, Rabab recounted the repeated displacement of her family, and the bombing in which her daughter was killed and she was injured with three of her children
I am married to Khalil al-Hito, 38, and a mother of six. Our daughter Malak, 11, was killed in this war; our remaining children are Fathiyeh, 19, Dunia, 17, Hashem, 13, Ibrahim, 9, and Muhammad, 7.
Up until the war, we lived in Gaza City’s al-Rimal neighborhood, in the same building as my mother-in-law, Latifa al-Hito, 63, her daughter Shaimaa, 21, and my brothers-in-law.
On 7 October 2023, when the bombings started, I was just getting the children ready for school. We stayed at home for three days, and then things in our area got worse and all the neighbors started to leave.
At first, we went down to the basement of the building. At that time, there was literally a ring of fire around the city. They bombed everything: institutions, organizations, universities, mosques and homes. After two hours, we realized that even the basement wasn’t safe, and went back up to the apartment. My husband said we had to leave, too. We were afraid they would bomb our building.
We got into two cars and planned to drive to my brother Muhammad, 35, who lives in the ‘Asqulah area of central Gaza City. My husband got into the first vehicle with his mother, his sister, my aunt Muna Rabah al-Hito, 69, and our children Muhammad, Ibrahim, Hashem, Dunia and Malak. I got in the other car with my sister-in-law Aya al-Katnani, 22, and her children—Hamzah, 5, ‘Issa, 4, and Ibrahim, who was 2 months old. But before we even started the engine, a plane dropped a bomb right in front of us. We quickly got out and ran to our building’s stairwell.
When things calmed down, we got back in the car, and my brothers-in-law and their families joined us. There were almost 20 people in the vehicle. The journey was difficult because the road was full of rubble, stones and potholes. We barely made it to my brother’s house.
The next day, we learned that our building had been bombed and completely destroyed. I thanked God that we got out safely; possessions can be replaced. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my mother-in-law that her house was bombed.
My brother’s house was full of displaced people, so my husband decided we would move to my aunt Muna’s house, because she lives alone on Jaffa Street in central Gaza City. Her daughter Asmaa is married to my husband’s brother. We moved there along with Asmaa and her family. The area was being heavily bombed, and there was no water. After ten days, the army ordered everyone on the street to leave.
We went back to my brother Muhammad’s house, but the next day the army called us and ordered us to evacuate again. My husband rented a large truck, which took all 30 members of the al-Hito family to the entrance of al-Maghazi Refugee Camp in central Gaza City. There was a gas station there belonging to my cousin, with a small apartment on the premises. We moved into that apartment, and later my husband’s sister, Aya al-Hito, her husband, Hassan Abu Ghalyun, and their four children joined us, along with the children of my aunt Muna: Rabah Sami al-Hito, 29, and ‘Abed al-Rahman al-Hito, 22; and other relatives from the ‘Ajur family: Ramadan Talal ‘Ajur, 45, and his sons Muhammad, 20, and Yusef, 16.
There were about 40 of us, and it was really crowded. There wasn’t enough space for everyone in the apartment, so some slept in cars outside and on a piece of land across from the gas station.
On 16 November 2023, at around 2:00 A.M., I woke up to the sound of my husband shouting and calling for me. I heard him say that the station had been bombed. I was shocked because I hadn’t heard the explosion. All I could see around me was fire and dust. I could hear voices but couldn’t see anyone.
My body was almost entirely buried under the rubble. I called out my children’s names. My husband started pulling our son Muhammad out to rescue him. I called for Malak. Then ambulances arrived.
I couldn’t walk, so they carried me to an ambulance. While I was in the ambulance, the paramedics told me that my children were fine except for Malak. They told me she had been killed. I cried and screamed. They took us to Shuhada al-Aqsa Hospital. On the way, I tried to find out who survived and who died. Thirteen people were killed, and many more were injured.
My husband said his mother and his brother Rabah were killed. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe what had happened to us. In the morning, my husband told me that civil defense workers had recovered their bodies from under the rubble but hadn’t found the body of his nephew ‘Ali.
Most of the injured people had severe or moderate injuries. I had fractures in my right shoulder and pelvis. Our son Ibrahim was badly injured in the leg, with tissues and muscles torn. Our son Hashem got shrapnel in the jaw. Our daughter Fathiyeh was admitted to the intensive care unit and put on a ventilator.
The people with minor injuries were released the same day. I stayed in the hospital with my children Fathiyeh, Hashem and Ibrahim. Fathiyeh was released after a few days, but Hashem, Ibrahim and I stayed. I didn’t have surgery and my condition improved day by day. Ibrahim had several operations on his leg to clean the wound and get a steel implant. The doctors said he needed to be transferred for treatment outside the Gaza Strip. Hashem had surgery on his jaw, and his condition was severe.
Arrangements were made for Ibrahim to receive treatment in Egypt, and I traveled with him. Hashem stayed in the hospital and my husband watched over him there. In Egypt, Ibrahim’s leg was cleaned, and three days later we traveled to Ankara, in Turkey, for further treatment. We’ve been in Ankara for five months, and he’s getting better. A month after the bombing, Hashem also went to Egypt for treatment, alone. He stayed there for 20 days before being transferred to Qatar for further treatment, again traveling alone. He’s still there, and his condition is improving, but he still has to have several operations. I speak with him every day. It’s very hard for him to be alone, and I hope I can join him soon. I’m making arrangements to travel to him with Ibrahim.
My husband and my other children are now in central Gaza. Since Ibrahim and I left the Gaza Strip, they’ve been displaced about five more times: to al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, Rafah and Deir al-Balah. It’s very hard to stay in touch with them. I think and worry about them all the time. I live in terrible fear, because the Israelis are bombing IDP camps everywhere.
In this war, I lost my daughter and two of my children were injured. We have no home left. This is my fate and my destiny. I miss my daughter Malak, my husband, and my other children. I pray for the recovery of Ibrahim and Hashem.
* Testimony given over the phone to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 19 May 2024
Update: On 27 May 2024, Rabab and Ibrahim traveled to Qatar, where they are staying with Hashem.