A 27-year-old mother of three from the a-Daraj neighborhood in Gaza City, Riham described losing her husband and two brothers in the war and remaining alone with her young children in an IDP campUntil the war, I lived with my late husband, Majdi a-Rifi, 32, and our three children, Majdi, 7, Khulud, 5, and Maher, 7 months, along with my husband's family in the al-Daraj neighborhood in Gaza City.There was heavy bombing in our area, but we didn’t leave home. My husband was a vegetable vendor and once in a while he managed to sell some vegetables, and that's how we made a living. On 2 November 2023, my husband went out with his cousin Zaki a-Rifi and some others to try and sell vegetables so we could buy necessities, especially diapers for Maher. I tried to persuade him not to go because I was afraid, there were bombings around us all the time. But he insisted and said they were civilians that weren’t endangering anyone. Zaki came back after 20 minutes, badly injured in his hand, and said my husband was killed. My mother-in-law started screaming, and I went into shock. It took time before I started crying. I couldn't believe it happened. I couldn't speak at all. There was shooting at passersby outside, and I couldn't go out to look for Majdi's body.Zaki's family took him to a-Shifaa Hospital, where he had surgery and his hand was amputated. Later that day, an ambulance brought Majdi’s body home, and we parted with him in sorrow and grief. We cried a lot. My children cried over their father. It was a very painful farewell. One minute my husband was with us, and the next he popped out and never came back. A week later, my two brothers, Fakher Maher a-Rifi, 30, and Yasser a-Rifi, 23, were killed out on the street when a house was bombed in a-Shati Refugee Camp. I choke up whenever I try to talk about them. I loved them so much, and the news of their death struck me and my mother like lightning. We both started screaming and crying. My brothers were everything to me. When I saw them, I lost my mind. I felt shaken to the core when I saw them. My husband and my brothers within one week! I couldn't handle what happened to me – losing my loved ones, my husband and my brothers.After my husband and my two brothers were killed, I moved with the children and my family south to Khan Yunis and we settled in a school that was turned into an IDP camp. My husband's parents stayed home in Gaza.A month after my husband was killed, his sister Ramziyah a-Rifi, 27, and her children, ‘Udai, 7, and Sabah, 4, were killed when their house was bombed. Ramziyah's body was not extracted. She’s still under the rubble. The body of her daughter was found on the street with a hand missing. Then, two weeks later, my husband's cousin Mumtaz a-Rifi, 16, was killed riding a donkey cart to get water for his family from western Gaza. A tank shell was fired at them.When the Israeli army demolished the IDP camp in Khan Yunis, we had to move to Rafah. Now I'm here alone with my children, in Rafah, in a tent made of bits of wood and nylon. Sometimes my brother Da’ud comes to sleep with us, because I'm afraid to sleep alone.We’re living in very difficult conditions. We have no money and we can't buy food at all. Vegetables or meat are out of the question. I send the children every day to get food from the soup house in the IDP camp. They bring dishes like mujadara, beans and rice, and we also get tinned food. I’ve lost a lot of weight. Our tent isn’t even fit for animals to live in. I'm also very lonely. It’s hard dealing with the children alone, especially when they’re suffering so much. They became orphans at such a young age, and they’re lacking so much here.The food is very unhealthy and contaminated. The toilets are filthy, too, and Khulud got hepatitis from them. I don't have enough clothes for the children, either.Now it's Ramadan, and we're eating the meals to break the fast alone. They’re very meager meals that we get from the soup house. In the early morning, I can't find anything for the pre-dawn meal before the fast begins, so I just drink water and go back to sleep. Sometimes, if I get a little money, I buy two tomatoes, one eggplant and two potatoes, prepare something and eat with my children.I can't get formula for baby Maher and I had to wean him. I get diapers from the school.My husband was everything to me, and I lost him forever. Now I'm a widow. My children are orphans, and they were robbed of their father's love and compassion. They ask me about him every day and talk about him with longing, especially Khulud, who was his pampered girl. All I can do is show them pictures of him on the phone.Majdi has become very aggressive. He hasn’t got over his father's death. Now we're homeless, camping here, and I have no strength. I'm tired, mentally shattered and so sad. My life ended when I lost my husband. I cry over him and over my brothers all the time.* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 26 March 2024