A 21-year-old from Jabalya Refugee Camp, described how two of her brothers and six other relatives were killed in a bombing in which she was injured along with her younger brother and parents, being displaced, and another bombing that killed her fiancé and 10 of his relatives
I lived on Block 5 of Jabalya Refugee Camp with my parents, Shu'eib Salem, 50, and Muna Yassin, 39, and my three brothers: Mu'az, 19, and Ahmad, 16, who were killed, and ‘Abd al-Rahman, 12 – the only brother I have left.
At the start of the war, we stayed in the camp with my grandfather's family, who lived nearby. We didn’t leave, even with the shooting and bombings. On 6 December 2023, we moved to the house of some neighbors who had gone to the south of the Gaza Strip because it was sturdier than our house, which was very old. The next morning, around 4:00 A.M., we heard a huge explosion in the block next to ours. All the young people in the house went out to help rescue people. After they came back, they left again for dawn prayers. About five minutes later, our block was bombed. I found myself under the rubble. My mother’s sister Nidaa, who was next to me, died right before my eyes. I stayed trapped under the rubble for nearly an hour before they got me out and took me to a neighbor’s house. My father, who was hit by shrapnel all over his body and mostly in the pelvis, came with me. My brother Ahmad was removed from under the rubble before me, half an hour after the bombing. My mother, who got burns on her hand and had shrapnel wounds and bruises all over her body, went with him to the hospital, but she returned after half an hour and told me he had passed away. My little brother, ‘Abd a-Rahman, was injured in his leg, and my uncle had broken ribs and vertebrae in his spine, as well as head wounds that needed stitches. Another aunt and her son were also injured in different parts of their bodies.
That same day, they pulled the bodies of my maternal uncle, his wife, and my maternal aunts from under the rubble. They were buried shortly after, and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to them. In the evening, they also got my grandfather’s body out. When I saw him, tears came out of in his eyes and for a moment I thought he was still alive. But he was already gone.
Then they took me and the other wounded people to the UNRWA clinic in the center of Jabalya Refugee Camp, which was closer than the hospitals. I was injured in my back and pelvis, and I had burns on my hands and legs. The doctors said I probably wouldn’t be able to walk again, but I got treatment that helped me and I can walk now.
The next morning, they found the body of my brother Mu'az. He was almost my age and we were very close. His death was the biggest shock for me.
Then the military invaded Jabalya Refugee Camp and I was moved with the other injured people from the UNRWA clinic to a-Shifaa Hospital. My brother had minor surgery there. For ten days, we lay on the floor in a cooling room, which felt like a grave, without mattresses. There was no one to take care of us. We drank salty water, which wasn’t fit for drinking, because it was the only water available. Those were the worst days of my life.
After we were released from the hospital, we went back to Jabalya Refugee Camp and stayed there for almost two months in a school that had turned into a displacement camp. When my father got stronger and felt his condition improving, he set up a tent for us on the ruins of our home. The tent wasn’t really fit for living, and mice and pests got in. Only God knows what kind of suffering we went through there. Later, my father borrowed money and brought workers to build us a small room. I felt like I was living in a palace. I was so happy, thinking that our suffering was finally over.
But on 6 October 2024, at five in the morning, the Israeli military invaded the camp again. The young people started calling the residents of the neighborhood to flee because the tanks were getting closer. We ran out of the room and went with the rest of the people to the UNRWA clinic. We stayed there for two hours, and then we decided to move to a school that had been turned into a displacement camp in a-Shati Refugee Camp in the west of Gaza City.
On 20 December 2024, a man named Ibrahim Zahd asked for my hand in marriage. Thank God, I liked him, and I agreed. On Monday, 30 December 2024, we held an engagement party because we wanted to have some joy after all the suffering we had been through – the loss of my mother’s family, my injuries, and those of the rest of my family.
But at the end of that week, on Saturday, 4 January 2025, the house where my fiancé Ibrahim was staying was bombed, and he was killed along with his brother Tamer, his wife and three children, his brother ‘Imad, his father, his sister, his cousin from his father’s side, and his uncle. I think their bodies are still buried under the rubble. I would really like to say goodbye to my fiancé Ibrahim, or at least know whether he received a proper burial. His mother and one of his brothers were injured and survived the bombing, and had surgery to insert metal plates in their legs.
I don’t know the names or ages of the rest of Ibrahim’s family because I didn’t get a chance to meet or know them. I was in shock from the loss. I never expected to lose even more people dear to me.
The day before he died, Ibrahim told me he was planning to move with his family to a-Shati Refugee Camp because the situation where they were was very dangerous. But they didn’t manage to move in time to save themselves from the bombings.
After the ceasefire, we went back to Jabalya Refugee Camp. But the destruction in the camp was massive. Our house’s ruins and the room built on top of them were bulldozed, and all the nearby houses were bombed. It was impossible to even set up a tent on the ruins. We had to return to the displacement camp in a-Shati Refugee Camp.
I couldn’t be happy about the ceasefire agreement. I don’t know what to do with myself or how to continue my life. For me, life has stopped.
The last words Ibrahim said to me were: “Don’t worry. The days ahead will all be days of joy. I’m optimistic.” But Ibrahim is gone and with him, all joy left.
* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat a-Kurd on 22 January 2025
The people killed in the bombing of Shahd Salem's family home:
- Her brother Ahmad, 16
- Her brother Mu'az, 19
- Her grandfather, 'Abd al-Basset 'Abd al-Hamid Yassin, 63
- Her grandmother, Ra’isah 'Abd al-Majid Yassin, 63
- Her uncle (mother’s side), Jibril 'Abd al-Basset Yassin, 30
- His wife, Randa Samir Siam, 30, nine months pregnant
- Her aunt (mother’s side), Nidaa 'Abd al-Basset Yassin, 39
- Her aunt (mother’s side), Amal 'Abd al-Basset Yassin, 34
* Shahd’s fiancé, Ibrahim Jamal Zahd, 23, was killed on 4 January 2025 along with 10 members of his family.