Translated Content:
A 21-year-old university student studying public relations and marketing, a resident of the Mukhabarat Towers in Gaza City, spoke about the bombing of her uncle's house, in which her sisters were killed, and about her life in the displaced persons' camp:
Nihal al-Najjar in the family tent in the displaced persons' camp in Khan Yunis. Photo: Olfat al-Kurd, December 24, 2023
Since the beginning of the war, intense shelling began everywhere in Gaza City. On October 12, 2023, we received instructions from the Israeli military via phone calls and messages to evacuate the building we were living in, Tower 3 in the Mukhabarat Towers, because they intended to bomb it. The tower was 11 stories high, and I was living in one of the four apartments on the third floor with my family—my parents, myself, my two sisters, and my two brothers. We have another married sister who does not live with us. I'm engaged and I was supposed to get married in November. Some of the residents of the building had already left when the war began because of the bombing. My mother, two sisters, and I left on October 12, 2023, and went to the home of my aunt, Samira al-Najjar (55 years old), who lives in the Jabalia refugee camp. My father and two brothers stayed at home, but on the same day, Tower 1 was bombed, so they moved to the al-Mashtal Hotel in northwest Gaza City. Then, because of the bombing in the hotel area, they told us they would be moving to the Khan Yunis area, where a displaced persons camp had been improvised and set up in the UNRWA industrial training complex. We stayed at my aunt's house for about two weeks, surrounded by constant bombing and glass shards flying at us. On October 24, 2023, my aunt received a written message from the army by phone ordering her to evacuate the house because it was about to be bombed. We left and moved to the home of my uncle, Mohammed al-Najjar (40 years old), who also lives in Jabalia refugee camp, in a ground-floor apartment. The next day, October 25, 2023, at around 7:00 PM, I was sitting in the living room with my mother, my sisters, Mays and Kholoud, my uncle's wife, with her two-month-old baby Mahmoud, and three of her daughters – Shahd (15 years old), Waad (13 years old), and Jana (10 years old). My sisters, Mona and Nour, were in another room, while my uncle Mohammed was outside the house and his daughter, Ghazal (11 years old), had gone to a neighbor's house to charge her phone. Suddenly, we found ourselves under the rubble. There were ten of us, and we didn't know who was alive and who was dead. We didn't hear an explosion. Suddenly, we found ourselves under the rubble. People flocked to help us. I don't know exactly what happened next. I couldn't see anyone because of the smoke and rubble. I lost consciousness and when I woke up, I found myself in the Indonesian Hospital, north of Gaza City. I was with my mother, and it turned out she had third-degree burns on her face, hands, back, and legs. I had injuries to my hands, and they had put platelets in my fingers and left leg. Mais also had burns, in addition to wounds that had been stitched. They told me that my sisters, Mona and Nour, had been martyred, as well as Kholoud, her infant son, and her three daughters who were with her. When I learned what had happened, I couldn't stop crying and screaming. I couldn't control myself. I still cry for them uncontrollably. The next morning, our family's martyrs were buried in the Beit Lahia cemetery, north of Gaza City. My mother, my sister Mais, and I remained in the hospital but were unable to attend their funeral. Later, my fiancé, Yasser Muhanna (30 years old), took me from the Indonesian hospital to Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City, while my mother and sister Mais remained at the Indonesian hospital. But then the shelling intensified around Al-Shifa Hospital, and we decided to leave south, to Khan Yunis. We walked until we reached the Netzarim checkpoint. I was in a wheelchair. After the checkpoint, we got into a donkey cart, and then a truck took us to Khan Yunis, where we arrived around 5:00 PM. My mother and sister Mais arrived there the next day after they had also been forced to flee due to the heavy shelling around the Indonesian hospital. We have been in the displacement camp for about a month, and here we met my father and brothers. The conditions here are very difficult. We are living in a tent made of nylon and tarpaulin. We came with nothing but the clothes we were wearing, and we were wounded. We go daily to the Japanese hospital near the displaced persons camp to have our bandages changed. People donated blankets and clothes to us. There are no toilets nearby, and when we need to, we walk about 100 meters to reach one. Every time, our brothers accompany us and help us because it is difficult for us to walk. All my dreams have been shattered. My two sisters were martyred and my house was bombed. My wedding clothes and my gold jewelry are all left under the rubble. The Israeli army left me nothing. It stole everything beautiful in my life. We are all living in terrible misery now. I cry for my sisters all the time and I cry because of the situation and the lack of hope. The names of those killed in the bombing of Muhammad al-Najjar's house: Mona Nidal Hussein al-Najjar (20 years old), Nour Nidal Hussein al-Najjar (18 years old), Khulud Mas'ud (31 years old) and her children: Shahd Muhammad Hussein al-Najjar (15 years old), Waad Muhammad Hussein al-Najjar (13 years old), Jana Muhammad Hussein al-Najjar (10 years old), Mahmoud Muhammad Hussein al-Najjar (2 months old). *This testimony was recorded by B'Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 24 December 2023.