The race in Tunisia was supposed to be my first outside Gaza and was a golden opportunity for us, cyclists from Gaza, to prove ourselves in the Arab world and get some professional guidance from cyclists who are used to covering long distances on dirt paths or mountain roads, in other countries.
In the Gaza Strip, I practiced daily. I would cycle from Rafah to northern Beit Lahiya, a distance of 43 kilometers, then return to Rafah. Sometimes I’d take a shorter route, 10 kilometers in every direction. I did that because my goal was to participate in international and local competitions.
A few days before 30 March 2018, I heard that nonviolent marches were being organized to mark Land Day and that tents had been erected in several areas, including in Rafah, demanding that we get our rights back. On the morning of 30 March, I heard calls from mosque loudspeakers to attend the marches and I decided to go to protest in the eastern part of Rafah. I rode my bike there with two friends, and we got there around 10:00 A.M. There were hordes of people there – young people, men, children, women, entire families. There were tents, vendors, journalists and medical teams. We stood there. There was no shooting and no one threw stones. After two hours, we prayed the midday prayers and then sat for a while.
Shortly afterwards, some young men began throwing stones at soldiers who were hiding behind dirt mounds about 200 meters from the demonstrators. We watched from a distance of about 150-200 meters from the border. A guy was hit by gunfire near us and we went over to try and help him. At the same time, I saw a drone that takes photos above us, and stood up to watch it circling in the sky. After about two minutes, I felt a sharp pang in my right leg. I looked down and saw it was bleeding and smoking.
The guys next to me picked me up immediately and carried me to an ambulance, and from there to a field hospital that had been set up. After that, I was taken to the European Hospital in Gaza, where they found a tear in my leg, bones and artery. They operated on me to put plates in my leg, and then I had another operation to try and connect the severed arteries. The attempts to heal the leg continued for two weeks, but in the end, I was told the surgery failed.
I tried to get a payment guarantee for surgery in a Ramallah hospital. After I got it, and the surgery was scheduled, I applied to the Israeli officials for transit permits for my mother and me. Both applications were denied. After that attempt failed, the doctors decided to amputate my leg at the knee.
When I heard about the decision, I cried a lot. I thought about my bike and my dream of becoming a cycling champion, which was suddenly cut short without any advance preparation. I felt that my life was over, my whole world turned upside down, and that I would never ride a bike again. I had been training for a race in Jakarta in August 2018, and I was hoping to take part and wave the Palestinian flag, but that will never happen at any race anywhere in the world. I realized I would never walk on two legs again and that from now on, my whole life would focus on the leg that’s about to get amputated because of a bullet fired by an Israeli soldier.
On 8 April 2018, my leg was amputated. When I saw the amputated leg, I went into shock. I cried and it was very painful. About a week ago, I was transferred to al-Quds Hospital in Gaza, and I’m still here. I’m supposed to be released today but when I get out of here, I won’t be the same person I was before 30 March 2018. I’ll leave with no leg, no dream, no future. My life will become difficult and lose meaning, because that’s what the Israeli military decided.
In Rafah in the Gaza Strip, on 30 March 2018
His testimony was given to Muhammad Sabah on 18 April 2018
I’ve been a member of the Palestinian bicycle team in Gaza since 2013. I’d only ridden my bike and raced inside Gaza. I couldn’t race anywhere outside Gaza. I tried to get to a race in Tunisia, but I didn’t make it because Rafah Crossing was closed and Israel wouldn’t give me a permit to travel through Erez Crossing. Two other cyclists who ride with me didn’t get a permit either. The Israelis also wouldn’t let us travel to the West Bank to participate in the Jericho Marathon, or any other competition.
After losing my leg, I was in a very dark place. I was in shock, especially because I was on the Palestinian bicycle team. I had thought I would always be able to ride, and I keep imagining myself getting back on the bike. Cycling always made me happy, I felt that the bicycle was part of my life and that I couldn’t give it up.
During physical therapy, I went to a prosthetic center in Gaza City that belongs to the municipality. I got physiotherapy there, too, for four months, and then had another operation on my leg. About a month and a half after the surgery, I was taught how to use a prosthesis.
To this day I have pain in the injured leg, and sometimes skin infections. I still take painkillers and use ointments to ease the friction between the prosthesis and the leg. Every six or eight months I will have to replace the prosthesis, which involves new treatments every time.
Some human rights organizations documented my case. I had hoped the military would investigate what happened and hold the soldiers who made me disabled accountable, and that I would get financial compensation so I could carry on with my life. Mostly, I hoped that I would be able to get treatment in developed countries that have more advanced and innovative treatments, and that I could buy a special car for people with disabilities. Sadly, it’s been more than a year since I was hit and none of those things have happened.
I’ve watched videos about prosthetics on YouTube and I know there are newer, more advanced ones that allow you to move almost freely. I have some hope of getting such a prosthesis and living an easier life. The one I have now isn’t adequate. It’s old and doesn’t allow me to go up or down stairs, walk fast, run or swim. I can only walk on flat surfaces.
Because I was injured, I couldn’t even apply for permission to travel to races that were held in Indonesia, Egypt and Algeria. That had a huge effect on my mental state. It’s very hard to go from living life as an athlete to living life as a disabled person.
‘Alaa a-Dali, now 21, spoke with B’Tselem field researcher Khaled al-‘Azayzeh about the year he has been through and his hopes for recovery:
After the injury, I was hospitalized for almost a month in Gaza hospitals. After they released me, I had physiotherapy for two months, sometimes at home and sometimes at Doctors Without Borders in Khan Yunis. At first, I had treatments every day, and later every two days.
In 2016, based on 25 years of experience and hundreds of cases, B’Tselem decided to stop cooperating with the whitewashing apparatus. Further to this decision, we have since stopped applying to the Israeli authorities with the demand that they investigate incidents in which Palestinian residents of the occupied territories were killed or injured.