Translated Content:
Gaza - In the city of war and on its besieged shore, there is a love without restrictions. The story's protagonists are Naseem and his fiancée, Ola, survivors of the genocide up until that moment. They fled the circle of fire to two simple, adjacent seats in a popular café on the Gaza beachfront, searching for air devoid of the smell of gunpowder and for a voice of life that would rise above the roar of the cannons. They gazed far into the horizon, dreaming of traveling after the war to a distant land beyond borders and siege.
As Naseem whispers to Ola, holding her hand, "There is no war here... nothing but love," she reveals her fear of a new loss that her heart cannot bear. Death has taken her sister and mother, whose dream of seeing her as a bride was never fulfilled. However, the war insisted on intensifying Ola's feelings and fear, as the airstrike interrupted her conversation about the obsession with death that had pounced on the last thing her heart held dear. "The explosion happened, and Naseem was only one step away from me," she says.
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She continued her story to Al Jazeera Net, "I looked at his head first and made sure he was fine. I was reassured, as I know that head injuries are fatal. I thought he was fine and asked the paramedic to take him first. As soon as they lifted him, blood gushed from his shattered back. I told him, 'Naseem, please stay safe, my love.'"
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Massacres Pursue Them
Ola had no idea that this would be the last time she would see her life partner, and that she would look at him for the last time. She turned to her bleeding foot and severed tendons, as paramedics carried her to the hospital. There, she kept asking about her fiancé, Naseem, who had been martyred. But her family kept the news from her, which she read through the eyes of those who surrounded her with tears and compassion. She concluded her speech. Wondering: "What's between me and death that it would attack every entity with which I find happiness?"
While the Israeli missile destroyed the love story between Ola and her fiancé, young Mona Joudeh never imagined that she would be able to climb the beach she loved and fled to, fleeing the harm and noise of war. Less than two days passed since Mona, 21, spoke with her mother about the feeling she found at the sea, having missed it since the beginning of the war. She told her, "I found a strange comfort at the sea. I will always go there to relieve the pressure of work."
Mona Joudeh was martyred while she was with her friend in the Al-Baqa cafeteria, which was bombed by the occupation (Al Jazeera). Unusually, Mona, who had been involved in humanitarian work and helping orphans since the beginning of the war, was late arriving for lunch. She had asked her mother to wait for her. During the lunch, her mother heard the news that the Al-Baqa cafeteria had been targeted, and her heartache led her to leave the house in search of her.
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Hala, Mona's sister, told Al Jazeera Net, "She insisted... My mother went to Al-Shifa Hospital to check on the injured, hoping Mona might be among them. But she didn't find her. She then entered the morgue and stumbled upon the body of Raghad, Mona's close friend who was with her. She began calling out, "Where are you, Mama?" After two hours of exhaustive searching among the wounded and bodies, she received a call informing her that Mona was lying on the floor of the Baptist Hospital and that she was a martyr.
"It was as if she was saying goodbye to us," Hala added, choking back tears. She continued to recount the moments leading up to her martyrdom, where "Mona insisted on wearing white and hugging everyone for no reason. Even at work, she was like a bird, flying among her colleagues, as if she were getting ready for a big party."
Mona refused to travel, Hala continued, despite the opportunity to do so. She insisted on staying with her parents in Gaza. By her own choice, she refused to leave them alone, but the war forcibly separated her from them forever.
The Baqa and Thai massacres were preceded by other massacres that directly targeted popular cafes, claiming the lives of many. Dozens (Al Jazeera)
For work and recreation
While Mona rushed to the sea in search of relief from the fatigue of work, a large number of remote workers and freelance journalists are finding an alternative workspace, especially after their outlets dried up due to the interruption of communication, internet, and electricity, and the repeated displacement. These outlets provided the incentives for them to resort to them: internet, electricity for charging, and a cup of coffee that, despite its high price, brings back memories of pre-war times.
In the Al-Baqa cafeteria, where the occupation committed a massacre a few days ago, journalist Wadih Abu Saud, a correspondent for Yemen Satellite Channel in northern Gaza, sat not to escape his mission, but to perform it. He told Al Jazeera Net that they frequent these places to access the internet to transmit their journalistic material via electronic chips, which require them to be westward toward the port, or to climb high places. He added, "But every height now faces a missile, so we have resorted to cafes to work."
These cafes have not only provided journalists with a point of contact, but also a temporary escape from the bloody coverage of the scenes of bloodshed. And the daily massacres.
Abu Saud was injured in that massacre. He says, "I found the ground covered with the remains of martyrs, including children and women, colleagues and friends I knew by name and face." He concludes, "Among the many massacres I witnessed during the war, this was different, because I was there not to cover, but to breathe. But that also seems forbidden to us."
The "Al-Baqa Cafeteria" massacre was not a random attack; it was a mass extermination crime in which 33 people were killed, each with a story, a destination, and a purpose. None of them expected that a beach chair would be the site of their fate and end.
This is a recurring pattern of deliberate targeting of any spot where Gazans breathe air other than smoke and gunpowder, hear something different from the sounds of war, and enjoy temporary respite from its hell.
This massacre was not the first of its kind; it was preceded by several similar attacks on cafes and popular rest areas in the north and south of the Gaza Strip.