Tuesday’s Child Blog

Following Yonder Star to Gaza – Day 7
Monday 11th January 2010

“As Jesus was walking along the shore of Lake Galilee, He saw Simon and his brother Andrew, casting a net in the lake, for they were fishermen….Jesus went a little farther on and saw James and John, the sons of Zebedee; they were in their boat mending their nets”. Mark 1:16-19

It is 6.30 a.m. and we are down at the port in Gaza city to meet the fishermen coming in on their boats with their catch after a 12 hr trip. It is a mellow scene, the early morning sunlight casting a pale glow along long-faded blue and yellow fishing boats. Mohammed, the fishing co-operative representative we met on Friday, is there to greet us on the pier. There was shooting again last night, the boats coming under fire while working even within the 2.5 mile curfew imposed on the livelihood of these men. Life as a fisherman is dangerous enough. Yet, every night, these men go out in their boats, they stare death in the face from a much more sinister source than the power of the sea.

It is 6 months since we last visited the port and little has changed, nothing has improved (last visit July 2009 blog day 14). Boats still lie ashore in need of paint and maintenance. The men continue to work under arduous conditions for whatever they can catch. Tragically, another fisherman has been shot dead since and others wounded.

Sunrise in Gaza

Fishing port, Gaza city

Fishing port, Gaza city

Fishing port, Gaza city

One by one the boats come in and the fishermen go about their business unloading their catches and cleaning down the boats. They seem expert in what they do and work with great efficiency.

The first boat has a crew of 7 men, they estimate a catch of about 100 kilos last night, so just over 14 kilos of fish each, less a shared cost of 300 USD for fuel for the trip. Mohammed, explains, that while there is a fishing co-operative, the boats to not share the money from their daily catches, but each boat makes and shares its own yield. Boats will also work in shifts, so 20 fishermen may work a boat in 2 shifts.

Fishing boat and crew dock in the port canisters

Sitting on fishing nets on the pier, sons wait for their fathers, ready to help with sorting the fish. Others are already on the boats, sorting and cleaning. It’s all hands on deck.

Brothers, Hasem 8 yrs and Amjed 7 yrs, waiting for their father’s boat

Friends Mohammed 10 yrs and Ahf 14 yrs helping out on their pier

Empty fuel canisters from one boat

The fish are sorted and packed into trays, some wooden, some plastic. Pony drawn carts pull up on the pier and the fish is loaded to take to the market.

Sorting through this fish

Tiddlers

Fish loaded up for market

Waiting on the catch

I chat with 4 fishermen from one boat. Mohammed, Ahmed, Mohammed and Josef. The older men, Ahmed and Mohammed, have 14 sons between then. I ask how the catch went and Ahmed says, “We cannot even catch enough fish to feed our families. Each night we face shooting out on the water, even within the limit. It is hard work in the face of such danger”. Mohammed, wrapped in red Palestinian scarf, got married one week ago. Despite the difficulties, he hopes to have sons that will be fishermen like him and looks forward to a time where the fishermen of Gaza can enjoy the same rights as other fishermen working in the Mediterranean.

Mohammed, Ahmed, Mohammed and Josef

I move along to another boat and speak to their skipper. I ask how last night went for him and if he breached the limit imposed by Israel. “We caught about 100 kilos last night. There was more shooting last night, even within the limit we are shot at, or the boat is shot at. They will often aim for the motors to destroy the boat. Thirty families eat out of this boat. In May, the boat was boarded and 6 fishermen were arrested and taken to an Israeli jail. There was no reason for their arrest, we were just fishing. They just didn’t want the boat to work. Fishing is a challenging industry in Gaza, but we continue regardless, for this is our livelihood and we have our families to provide for as best we can”. I ask Hasan about his family, “I have 9 children”, he says with a smile. He seems to young! On the subject of the future and a solution, he says, “We see no solution, things are getting worse instead of better. I try not to look ahead for it is bleak, so just take one day at time”. I ask Hasan what their immediate needs are “We need equipment and parts to repair the boats, money to support our families and most of all, we need the blockade to end to be able to fish in the deep sea”.

Skipper Hasan, father of 9 children

Sitting on the pier, I meet Ibrahim, the most senior of the fishermen around and I ask if he will tell me his story and Ahmed, our driver again translates. “I have been a fisherman for 50 years, I started with my father and grandfather when I was 10 yrs old. I have 6 children and my sons are fishermen too. I am also a grandfather. Fishing is my life and I have enjoyed many good times. We used to do well on the sea and in those days it was safe. What is happening over the last years, is crazy, I never thought things could be like this. Israelis shoot at us all the time, they either aim for the fishermen or aim for the boat, usually the motors, and sometimes they just shoot all around in the water to scare us. We are a hunted group. A fisherman’s life is hard, now here in Gaza, it is almost impossible. The men work very hard under bad circumstances; they are very tired and unhappy. It is a dangerous life. My own son-in-law Hanni, was killed 3 yrs ago, shot dead on his boat, he was 27 yrs old. He took a chance and went out over the limit, the Israeli boat came close, chased him and shot him. My daughter and their 4 children, 3 boys and one girl now live with me. They miss their father and they don’t understand this world we live in where a father can be killed for working hard as a fisherman”. I ask Ibrahim if he still fishes himself. “My legs are gone now so I just drive the boat”. I ask him if he drives over the limit, he doesn’t answer, just gives me a smile. I ask about the future and the solution. “Things are very bad, at the moment, the only good thing is that the fuel costs have come down a bit now. However, I hope in God that things will get better. The blockade has to end, it is the only solution. Only God can change things for us now and we put our hope and trust in Him”.

Ibrahim, Gazan fisherman for 50 years

The men work quickly cleaning their boats, and the carts leave for market. Their work done for now the men congregate for a cup of tea (che), black tea, flavoured with mint. It was here in the boathouse I sat with some of the fishermen on my last visit and first heard of their plight. I don’t see these men today, it mustn’t be their shift. I hope they are safe and well. May God bless all of these men, keep them well and increase their catch within the ludicrous 2.5 mile fishing limit imposed on their already difficult lives. As we found before, there is a warmth and camaraderie among these men that is very heartening and their courage in the face of such adversity is inspiring.

Finished for today

Off to market

Fishermen enjoy a cup of tea after their night at sea

As we leave the port, we pass many boats lined up, one after one, in disrepair. Along the pier, smaller crews are still working, sorting their catch.

Boat 10407

Smaller boats come into dock

Smaller boats return to the port, the town of Ashquelon in the distance

In the distance, smaller boats return to port and on the horizon, the two smoking towers from the bordering Israeli town of Asquelon where Israeli boats are free to fish in the deep sea and enjoy the usual rights of any fisherman. I reflect on Mohammed’s observation that the Gazan fishermen have as much water to fish in as the tourists swimming of the coast of Israel!

Our next stop is the market where people are already gathered close to a food distribution centre.

Fish to market

Men gather at the market

Fish for sale

From the market we drive onto Rafah. The beach along the coast is marred with sewage spilling into the sea from a sewage works where lack of chemicals to treat sewage results in untreated sewage pouring into the sea, posing a major health risk here. Along the route are scattered many reminders of the conflict, ruins of houses, schools, mosques ; nothing has changed since our last visit in July. In any other country in the world, aid agencies could move to clear rubble and rebuild. However, Gaza remains pinned by a cruel blockade with little change, only further deterioration. We pass the derelict airport a monument to the breach of people’s right to travel and free access to the outside world. How would people at home in Ireland manage without airports and travel?

Rafah city is bustling, as before there seem to be more goods here for sale, in part because of the close proximity to Egypt and the active tunnel supply. We drive onto the tunnels, but don’t stop long on this trip as they are bombed daily. Inside, men are still working frantically to bring supplies into Gaza, regardless of the developments on the Egyptian side of the border. We visited Rafah and three of the 1400 active tunnels in this area on our last visit going down into one of the tunnels to see how they operate (July 2009 visit, blog day 11 »).

The people of Gaza are in disbelief at the news last month that Egypt will work to seal the tunnels. It is a huge psychological blow to these people who perceive the tunnels as their lifeline for survival. While they operate on system far removed from fair trade, they do nonetheless provide many of the supplies available for purchase in Gaza. The tunnels continue to come under air attack with between 3 and 6 workers being killed here daily in tunnel collapses. On the other side of the border, large cranes and boring machines are working to seal and collapse the tunnels. The borers bore random holes deep into the ground, then follow with water to flood the tunnels and all working in them. Life has become even riskier for tunnel workers, yet they still continue to burrow at a 12 hr day pace. As for the Egyptian boring equipment, the people of Gaza feel deeply betrayed by their Egyptian neighbours.

Active tunnel, covered in tarpaulin

Row of tunnels

Egyptian crane

Egyptian borers

We drive further along and pass an Egyptian outlook post where an Egyptian was shot dead last week. Another fatal statistic of this cruel blockade! He was shot for stopping the Galloway convoy bringing in expensive cars for their friends in the Hamas. Our thoughts and prayers are with this man’s family, a man only doing the job he was paid to do, to facilitate entry of humanitarian aid into the strip. It is a pity the convoy didn’t consider transport for the needy, the schoolchildren who need buses, the special learning schools desperately in need of transport, the centres of disability with no adequate transport or poor struggling farmers who lost their donkeys and carts in Operation Cast Lead. Since when do fancy cars constitute humanitarian aid? Thankfully, the Galloway circus has now left town and many people here are very glad to see the back of it and the danger it brought with it. Also, they know too well that most of the aid will not go to the people who need it, but, as per the last convoy, resurface in certain shops for sale.

Egyptian security post

It is 3 p.m and we are arriving in the Zaytoun area, south east of Gaza city. Zaytoun came under heavy assault in the war and the Red Cross were refused access to the area for some days.  The children here witnessed many war crimes, the civilian death toll here huge and the killing fields barbaric.

Children come to meet the car anticipating the sweets and treats we have. Other children stand back more cautious of the new arrivals. I notice a little boy, watching us from a distance, like many children in Gaza he is dressed for winter but has no shoes or coat. One of the children in the group lifts his shirt and shows us his scars from the war.

The neighbourhood is very poor and the former roads still remain as dirt tracks. We visited the area in July, but the families were not at home. Today we will meet some of the Al-Sammouni family, who lost 29 people from their extended family including women and many children. As we walk towards one of their homes, I am overwhelmed by the sheer need in this area. Many journalists and human rights groups have visited this area, to tell the story of these farming families in Zaytoun, yet they remain in poverty, with little or no support. Former plots of land lie in ruin, one year on, there is no new growth here. Tents are pitched on the sites of former homes and here people also gather to pray for their deceased loved ones. The whole area cries of pain and suffering. Overhead, a paling sun, gives little light or warmth to this grey place.

Zaytoun, South East Gaza City

Zaytoun, South East Gaza City

Children of Zaytoun, come out to meet us

Little boy from Zaytoun

Where I was shot

Tent pitched on site of former home

We walk to one of the houses where one of the Sammouni family are gathered. We enter the living area and sit with the family who offer us tea. They welcome us and show us pictures of their dead. One woman shows me a picture of her 2 year old daughter who died in the attacks here and another picture of the body of her husband being pulled from the rubble2 weeks after he was murdered. Harrowing scenes. Horrific. She introduces me to two of her nieces, both of whom were orphaned in the massacre that happened on 5^th January 2009, just over a year ago.

My husband and little girl who were killed last year

Two little girls, orphaned in the Zaytoun massacre

All the time, we converse with Sabah translating as my Arabic, while getting better, is very limited. A little girl approaches and asks me my name and is fascinated with my hair! She tells me I am beautiful, like an angel and asks if we are going to help her family. I ask what help they need and she tells me they need help with everything. While many come to visit and hear their stories, there is very little food and life is very difficult. I promise we will help her and her family. She goes to the table and brings back two photos of her dead parents. “This is my mother and father, they were killed here last year and they are martyrs now”. I ask her their names. “Rashid and Raba”, she says softly. No one has thought even, to give this family photo-frames for their loved ones. I make a note to find some frames. I ask her if I can take her photo and she says yes and she stares at the digital picture for a long time. I ask her if she would like to tell me her story, and she says yes. I tell her to take her time and just tell us in her own words and if it is too upsetting for her, that’s ok, she can tell me another time.

Mona with pictures of her parents

Mona starts into her story, she tells it in time order and I am struck by the detail with which she recalls the sequence of events that killed her father and mother and so many of her extended family. She speaks with no emotion in her voice, but  her little hands  at her sides, running her fingers across her cupped palms in a constant repetitive motion. Her story is heartbreaking. This is what Mona says..

“My name is Mona Al Sammouni, I am 12 years old and have 6 brothers and 2 sisters.  We all lived together with my mother and father and we had a good life. We were a poor family, but we were happy together.  One night early last January, when I was 11, I wakened to the sound of bombs dropping all around us. They were very loud we were all very frightened. My father asked all of us to come downstairs into the living room as it was safer there. We sat close together , my parents holding us all to them, until  5 a.m. in the morning. I was very afraid and crying a lot as the bombing continued all around us. It was impossible to sleep, all of us so we just sat here in this room like this. My father asked us all to start praying, but we could not find any water, as the soldiers had shot all the water tanks and we had no water to wash before praying. My father said, it was ok, we could pray anyway, even without water, for God would understand.

At 6 a.m. we were still praying when some neighbours came to our home.  They asked if they could stay with us as there house was bombed and they had nowhere to go. They were crying and afraid. Over the next hours, more than  100 neighbours came here to our home and stayed together. All of us lay down flat on the land (floor)  as there was shooting everywhere. Another house close to us went on fire and my father and some of his brothers and neighbours went to try and put it out, but there was not enough water anywhere and the fire became too much and the house burned down. There was bombing now on every side of us and it was very loud. We all stayed down flat on the land, but it was impossible to sleep.

Then there was a very loud knock on the front door of our house. My father answered the door and there were soldiers outside. Their faces were coloured black and green and they were wearing very large hats. There were many soldiers and all around the house, tanks, bombs, fire, smoke and guns. It was very strange.

One of the soldiers asked all of the men to come outside. My father can speak in Hebrew and so he started to talk to them. He said, this is my family, please do not harm any of them. We are just farmers, our wives and our children, we live in peace, we mean you no harm, so please do not harm us. The soldiers ignored my father and asked the men for their jawalls (mobiles) and phone-cards. They collected the phones and phone cards together. There were soldiers all around us and we were very afraid.

Then a big soldier told us we all had to leave our home and walk down to the house of Wael. They took all of us and we were put into the one house, it was very packed. We stayed here for some time, many of the children were crying and they were hungry and thirsty, for there was no food and the water in the water tanks had all gone through the bullet holes.

My aunt found a little water and started to bake bread for all the children, for there was no food, only flour. All of us were very tired as well as hungry, I wanted to sleep but I cannot, I was very frightened. We stayed like this all of us together, and tried to sleep on the land (floor) again, but I was too hungry and afraid to sleep. There was no food. We stayed like this together until 6 a.m. in the morning.  Then my father, his cousin and his son went out of the house to collect some firewood to bake the bread my aunt was making.

When they went out of the house to collect the wood, there as a bomb beside them and my cousin, uncle and another neighbour were killed and my brother Sala was injured.

Then there was a second bomb, this time on the roof of the house where we were, people around me blew apart and bits of their body went into the air. I could not count how many people were injured, so many hurt and it was all red with blood, all over the house.

Then there was a third bomb into the side of the house. This third bomb was the loudest and this was the bomb that killed my father and mother. My father was very badly injured and his brain came outside his head. I looked then for my mother and she had lost half of her beautiful face. My brother’s wife was also in a very bad situation, her back ripped open in front of me and then her head blew off her shoulders and it landed in my lap and there was a lot of blood. I could not look at them for everyone was in pieces .  All over the house my parents, my aunts and uncles and my cousins were cut to pieces. I looked for the rest of my mother’s pieces but I could not find them. Then one of my older sisters took me by the hand and outside of what was left of the house. My brother Sala, who is 2 years older than me, shouted for anyone still alive inside to come outside.

We came outside and my uncle put up a white flag and we walked under this to the road towards Gaza city. But the soldiers were shooting at us from the sky and the ground. I had no shoes and as I was running, the glass on the ground cut my feet. My feet were bleeding a lot but I kept running. Around us soldiers were laughing at us and shouting “back to death, back to death”, but I kept running with my brothers and sisters. The tanks were chasing us hard so we had to run very quickly. We got to the roadside and stopped a car and we climbed in and they took us to the hospital.  Then we saw ambulances and the rest of the people running got into the ambulances and we all went to Shifa hospital.

I was in Shifa hospital and the doctors made me treatments for my cuts and then I went to stay in my aunt’s house with her in Gaza city. The ambulances could still not get into the area where my dead parents were. The whole area was closed by the Israelis and no-one was allowed to go there. I returned with my family 14 days later and the house was now all rubble  and covered over the bodies. People helped us to lift the rubble and we found the bodies of my parents. My father was burnt black to ash and my mother was in tiny pieces. We collected their bodies and pieces for the burial.

I am one of 60 children in our group of families, 13 of us have lost both of our parents, 17 lost their mother and 30 lost their father. Many of the women who died were also carrying babies.

This is my story, I am telling it to you without any tears for I cannot cry. I am unable to cry. But inside I am crying. Inside my heart is breaking”.

I thank Mona for telling us her story. She climbs on my knee and puts her head on my shoulder. I hold her for a long time, yet still she does not cry. She asks what is in the bag and I say, just some toys and medicines. We open the bag and the children choose different toys to great excitement. Mona chooses just two things and quietly takes me over and introduces me to her older sisters, who have been listening to Mona’s testimony, hanging onto every word. I give both of them my condolences. All of the children received trauma counseling, but for 2 months, now there is no pscyological support, indeed very it seems very little support. We give cash assistance to the individual families here and make arrangements to support each family with monthly food and provide for their other needs.

A little boy comes to say hello, he has chosen a bunny rabbit. He has a fierce scar on his face and he tells me, they killed his father and his mother. Mona tells me this is her younger brother Ahmed. What must be going through these children’s minds? He points to his scar and says “F16”. A little girl comes up and says hello and shows me her hearing aid. She lost her hearing in the war, post-traumatic hearing loss.

An older girl asks for the grip bag, once full of toys and medicines, now almost empty. She explains she has no wardrobe for her clothes and it would be handy. I give it to her gladly and tell her she can use it until we get a proper wardrobe for her and I add it to our list of small, yet essential items.

One by one others talk of what happened here in the days before the feast of the Epiphany last year. One woman points to the memorial of the dead, who once lived and shared this sitting room.

Mona with two of her older sisters

Ahmed 6 yrs

Little girl who lost her mother and also her hearing in the shelling of her home

Mona and her brother Shifa, still having surgery one year on

Woman points to memorial of the dead

Father who lost his wife, with 2 of his sons and his daughter

It is getting dark now and our driver is keen to leave.  Just as we are saying good-bye, Salah Al Sammouni  joins us. I recognise him from the Amnesty International Report published in the summer. He has a copy on the table and I ask for a photo. I ask if he was pleased with the report and he says it was a good report into what happened. Salah lost his father and mother, daughter Azra, 2 sister-in-laws and a nephew in the attack. He himself was injured.

Salah Al Samouni with a copy of the Amnesty International Report

Mona introduces me to her 16 year old cousin Zaineb her was also orphaned in the Zaytoun massacre. I ask her how she is doing, she says, ok but life is very tough and she needs help with food and medicines for her family. Without our asking she says, “My father was dragged outside and shot first in both legs. Then they dug a pit and put him into it and filled it with sand. They left his head above the sand. He pleaded for mercy for our family and they laughed at him. They asked him where the store of weapons was. He told, them, we have no weapons, we are not terrorists, we are farmers. The gathered us around him, all the children and then they shot my father many times through the head in front of us. Then they told my mother to take the children around to the other side of the house and come back inside the house into the living room. We were very scared. We asked our mother not to go with them. We found her later dead in the living room”. Each experience here seems more horrific than the next. What happened here is barbaric, too cruel for words. I ask Zaineb, if she will give us her testimony, like Mona when we come back to visit her in her own home, she says she would like someone to hear her story.

One of Zaineb’s cousin’s stand close. I ask him if he thinks the family will ever be able to forgive what happened here. “Impossible”, he says “we will never be able to forget or forgive the murder of so many of our family. It never leaves us. They never leave us. We think of what happened here every minute of the day. We live their murder every day. We are haunted by what happened here”.

In the meantime, the children are enjoying the toys and the animal masks we brought are a big hit. I ask all the children for a group photo. Toys will do little for these children, but at least the bring a bit of fun, if even for a short time. The needs here in this family are huge, food support, some investment to help them start farming again, more trauma counseling and support and more housing.

Zaineb 13 yrs

Children have fun making animal noises and shapes

Children of the Al Sammoni family

Mona chooses a white bunny rabbit face, puts it on and asks for a photo. She giggles when she sees herself on camera. Yet to me it seems almost eerie, given the horror that torments the little mind behind it, for she has seen things, none of us could imagine, even in our worst nightmares.

We say good bye for this family for now. We will be back later in the week for we have other families to visit here. We promise Mona and her family that we will be back to seem them again soon.

Mona again

It is 8 p.m. now, we have been in Zaytoun for 5 hrs. Yet there are many more people here to visit and who will need help on an ongoing basis. We will return.

Back at base, I struggle to write this blog, and do the depth of their suffering justice. The children’s voices tell it better than I ever can. I think of Mona’s last words…This is my story, I am telling it to you without any tears for I cannot cry. I am unable to cry. But inside I am crying. Inside my heart is breaking. May God hold each one of them close to Him and comfort them in their sorrows.

If you are in a position to help any of the families we met during our time in Gaza, please contact us at info@tuesdayschild.co.uk or donate online here »