Gaza: The Scars of War (PHOTOS) | Karl Schembri
Posted By admin on July 18, 2015
Dr Nabeel Al Shawa (left) is a consultant orthopaedic surgeon at Gazas only prosthetic clinic in Gaza. He is here seeing Rajaa Mohammed Hamdan from Rafah, who lost his leg and fingers when a bomb landed just outside his house while he was in the door with his 15-year-old son Mohammed. It all happened in a question of seconds, Rajaa says. My son died on the spot. I was on the phone when the bomb fell, so my hand was protecting my head and thats how I lost my fingers but managed to stay alive. Rajaa spent months in Egypt where doctors tried to save his leg but his condition degenerated and they had to amputate it last February. Life has changed completely for me, Rajaa said. I dont go out anymore. I dont want anyone to see me like this. I couldnt move for some six months, and now that I can move a bit Im just ashamed. Dr Nabeel said: Over the years, in different wars, Ive seen all sorts of wounds and operated in some of the most chaotic situations, but when the physical pain and shock subsides, the psychological effects of amputations are just devastating. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Wafdi Suhail Baker, 25, from Shatee Refugee Camp and father of two, stands on his destroyed boat which used to provide his family with their livelihoods. Were a family of fishermen and this was my boat on which I used to work together with my father and brothers, Wafdi said. In the last war my boat together with seven others belonging to our relatives were bombed while they were berthed in Gaza Harbour. All the nets, engines, and equipment were gone; not even the fire fighters could reach the port as it was too dangerous. Were now working for other fishermen making only a fraction of the income we used to make when we had our boats. Its humiliating. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Mohammed Hamad, 75, a farmer from Beit Hanoun, had his land destroyed three times since 2006. In the last war however he suffered the worst blow ever when his house was hit and six from his family were killed, including his wife, three sons, daughter-in-law and granddaughter. A total of 13 of Mohammeds grandchildren lost one or both of their parents a year ago. Everything changed for us last year, Mohammed says. To be stolen of my wife is too hard. I now face my grandchildren on my own and I feel lost. My grandchildren wake up afraid at night and theres nobody to console them. It all happened on the 10th day of Ramadan, on 8 July. We were all gathered in the garden after prayers when I went inside to rest. All of a sudden there was this huge explosion that destroyed the walls. I looked out and couldnt see anyone with the smoke for a while, but then I could see everyone dead; six lifeless bodies, all killed at once. After that we fled with the rest of my family members. My grandson was hit in his stomach; he spent 50 days crying in pain. We lived 50 days of madness. Even when we were seeking shelter in a school, we were still under attack from everywhere: drones and planes in the sky; artillery and soldiers on the ground; the navy firing from the sea. How can we expect our children to be able to go back to school normally when even their classrooms were hit? The people who died are gone, but we are still here mourning them. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Riyad Abu Ouda, 56, had a house in Beit Hanoun with three apartments that was destroyed last year. Initially he moved to an UNRWA school and then to a rented house covered by aid funding, but they had to move out after four months as the funding stopped. They are now back on the site of their destroyed house, 10 people living in a metal shack Riyad just built. I never felt as depressed as when we returned after the war and saw our house destroyed, Riyad says. All my lifes savings went into our house and now its all gone. When will I ever see my house again? Ill probably die before my family gets its house back. Were not even the worst off, at least we now have somewhere to stay, there are people who are in a worse position. We didnt get any help in months now; we dont even have a state to look after us. When you dont have a state, you have nobody to protect you, and this rubble is the result. The international community cannot stay silent. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Bayan, 12, from Khan Younis, is the oldest of four siblings who lost their mother last year. She now feels responsible for her brothers and sisters, but she is still recovering from the trauma of the experience that changed their lives. On 24 July 2014, the Israeli forces were just metres away from Bayans family house, when her parents decided to leave. They walked to a friends house about 10 kilometres away at night, passing by tanks and troops. We were a lot of neighbours walking together out of our houses, Bayan recalls. It was very dark but I wasnt afraid of the tanks; I was afraid they would bomb us from the air. Once they reached their friends house they stayed overnight. In the morning, when all of them were gathered in one room except for Bayans mother who was in another part of the building, when she was suffered a direct hit from a drone. I miss my mother and now I feel responsible for my younger siblings, Bayan said. Were all victims of the war and we will never forget it. But Im no longer afraid. I know there will be other wars, weve had one every two years, and we have nothing left to lose. For months after her mother died, Bayan drew pictures of her being hit and set them aside to hand them to her mum. She was given psychosocial assistance and has been showing steady improvement. I just want Palestine to be free, thats all I want, Bayan said. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Wajeha Alshaer suffered the devastating loss of three of her children in different drone strikes in the last war. We were in our house when my 16-year-old son Ibrahim wanted to go outside. He was just a few metres outside the house when he was hit by a drone. People came rushing to our house to tell us Ibrahim was just hit. Another son of mine, Bader, 18, decided to go with his brother-in-law on his motorbike to the hospital when they were also hit by a drone and killed immediately. Ten days later they bombed our house and my 12-year-old daughter Aya was killed in her bedroom. What did she do to deserve this? What did my two grandsons do to have their father killed? Muayed, who is eight months old, was still unborn when his father was killed. His mother now lives with Wajeha and her other son, Ibrahim, 2. Weve seen too much, we have no security or stability in our life, Wajeha said. When will this ever end? What do I do the next time there is a drone flying above us? I just want all this to stop. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
Abeer, 40, is a Syrian national who fled from Yarmouk Camp in Damascus to the Gaza Strip with her Palestinian husband through the tunnels with the Egyptian border in December 2011. She holds a picture of her six daughters and one son from her first husband, who died of an illness in 2008. Since getting married again she has been facing a lot of problems to keep custody of her children and finally had to leave Syria without them. I fled the war in Syria and since then Ive had another two here in Gaza, Abeer said. The last war was very frightening. Unlike in Syria, there was nowhere safe to go to, its too small here and all borders are closed. I dont know how we survived. Since she arrived in Gaza, Abeer had another son and meanwhile she has learnt that her children in Syria have been separated: some are living with their relatives, some in a centre for orphans, and her 14-year-old daughter was forced into getting married. Another daughter aged 18 was also forced into marriage when she was 15. Im trapped here: I cant go back to Syria because the borders are closed. I receive little bits of news from my children and I miss them terribly; I feel Ive abandoned them and its killing me. I wish I could bring them here with me but still it would be like fleeing from death to return to death. We never know when the next war is ever going to happen. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
One year since the Al Awda biscuits factory in Deir Al Balah was struck repeatedly by Israeli artillery fire, workers are still clearing up the heavily damaged areas and destroyed warehouses. All of the factorys raw materials, months of stock, fuel reserves, cold stores and products were consumed in the fire, which spread all over the place and kept blazing for three days. The cost of the direct damages is estimated at US$ 18 million, not counting the days of work lost. It was impossible to reach the factory while it was on fire because of all bombing, the owner and director of the factory, Mohammed Al Tilbani, said. We lost brand new machines, all the stock and huge parts of the factory. We made our case for compensation to the Israeli authorities and we didnt even get a reply or a justification about why the factory was targeted. Despite the huge losses, Al Awda is back in business, with its current production at 70 per cent of what it was a year ago. The blockade means the factory will never achieve its full potential. Gaza gets only eight hours of electricity a day, with the cost of running generators for Al Awda more than double the price of normal energy. The factory was opened in 1977 and has expanded over the years, diversifying its products from biscuits to ice cream, potato chips, wafers and juice. Before the blockade imposed by Israel eight years ago, 60 per cent of Al Awda products were sold in the West Bank and Israel, with exports to Jordan and Egypt. The company was then employing 400 people on three shifts, but with the blockade the major market for Al Awda became off limits overnight, although Al Tilbani preferred scaling down production while keeping most of the workers. In the last war on Gaza, 206 factories and workshops were completely destroyed and another 332 were damaged. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
An entire neighbourhood in Shajaiya was wiped out in last years war, killing many and displacing thousands. One year on, none of the 12,580 destroyed houses have been rebuilt and over 100,000 Palestinians remain homeless. At the current rate of reconstruction materials being allowed into blockaded Gaza, it will take another 66 years to rebuild what was destroyed and meet the total housing needs. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
An entire neighbourhood in Shajaiya was wiped out in last years war, killing many and displacing thousands. One year on, none of the 12,580 destroyed houses have been rebuilt and over 100,000 Palestinians remain homeless. At the current rate of reconstruction materials being allowed into blockaded Gaza, it will take another 66 years to rebuild what was destroyed and meet the total housing needs. Photo: Karl Schembri/NRC
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Gaza: The Scars of War (PHOTOS) | Karl Schembri
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