'Amer a-Sultan

A 31-year-old journalist from Jabalya Refugee Camp, ‘Amer described how he was displaced, lost close family in bombings and returned to death and destruction in northern Gaza

I have worked as a journalist since 2015, covering events in the Gaza Strip such as the March of Return protests and the wars.

Before the war, I lived with my family in our house in Jabalya Refugee Camp: my mother, 'Aishah, 67; my sister Yara, 25; my brother Muhammad, 26; my brother Tariq, 37, his wife ‘Ula, 35, and their five children; 'Aishah, 14, Rimas, 10, Muhammad, 8; Rital, 7, Ahmad, 1.7; my brother Sadiq, 33, his wife 'Amneh, 36, and their three children: Tulin, 3, Ahmad, 1, and Fares, 2 months. I was engaged and was planning to marry soon. When the war started, a media center for journalists was set up in the courtyard of a-Shifaa Hospital in Gaza City. I moved there and used it as a base to go out and cover the bombings. I spent about a month covering the killing of civilians in airstrikes, and then the military ordered the evacuation of the hospital. Everyone in the journalists’ tent had to move south. That day, the military bombed the area around the hospital and dozens of people were killed around it. While I was covering the bloodbath, I met a little girl who was looking for her parents among the dismembered bodies. It broke my heart. When I went south, I carried with me the story of that little girl who was looking for her family, and how sad she was.

When I got to the Nuseirat checkpoint, there were tanks and soldiers calling for young men and women to go over. It was terrifying, and I was afraid they would call me. I also feared for my family back in the north.

I managed to pass through safely and arrived in the city of Khan Yunis. I stayed there for about a month until the military ordered everyone to evacuate again, this time to the city of Rafah. I was really sad when we left, because I knew they’d destroy the city. When we finally reached Rafah, communications between the north and south of Gaza were cut off and I was really worried about my mother and the rest of my family. I had been in constant contact with them by phone up until then. Every time we spoke, my mother would tell me to stay safe, to avoid dangerous places, and to move around as little as possible. I told them to stay safe too and try and not leave the house.

On 22 December 2023, the military bombed our neighbors’ house in Jabalya RC while they were inside. Seventeen people were killed, and many more were injured. Our house was hit, too, and some of my family members were killed or injured. My brother Tariq’s daughter Rimas and my brother Sadiq’s son Fares were both killed. Sadiq himself was injured in his right leg, his daughter Tulin was injured in both legs, and his son Ahmad was injured in his right leg. They were taken to al-Awda Hospital, and the doctors had to amputate Ahmad’s leg. Later, Sadiq’s wife took the children south for more treatment, and then she managed to go abroad with them to get medical care. Tariq’s daughter 'Aishah was also injured, and her mother, ‘Ula, was lightly wounded in the leg. 'Aishah was taken to a-Shifaa Hospital, and then transferred to an American field hospital in Rafah. My mother was injured in the leg and taken to a clinic at a school in the town of Jabalya. A lot of our neighbors and friends were also killed and injured in the bombing.

Afterward, the members of my family who weren’t hospitalized went to an IDP camp at the school in Jabalya with the clinic my mother was taken to. But the next day, the military stormed the school and ordered everyone to leave. So my mother and the rest of the family went back to our house, which was damaged but still standing. I was really worried about them and afraid for their lives.

My sister Yara went with 'Aishah to Rafah and I visited them there a few times, bringing them food. Then arrangements were made for 'Aishah to get treated in Egypt, and Yara stayed behind in Rafah.

It was only eight months after I moved south that I managed to have a video call with my mother and the rest of my family who stayed in Jabalya. I saw my mother for the first time in a long while. I was so happy to see her, and I posted a picture of her on Facebook. I wrote that it was the first photo of her since the war started and that I hoped the next time I saw her in person, it would be in the north. That day I was so happy, it felt like a festive occasion.

On 25 August 2024, the husband of my sister Shirin was killed in a bombing when he went back to their house in Jabalya to check on it. He was inside when the house was bombed and he died on the spot. After he was killed, my mother asked my sister, who was staying with his family, to go stay at our house with her children.

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I stayed in Rafah, and on 15 January 2025, when the news said a ceasefire was close, I cried with joy thinking I’d finally be able to see my mother and the rest of my family again, after more than a year. I called them right away and told them that God willing, I’d be back in the north soon. My mother said that the war was over and that she wanted me and my fiancée to get married already. She said she would hold the most beautiful wedding for me.

The next day, the occupation shattered all of my dreams, and from happy wishes I went into deep mourning. On Sunday, 16 January 2025, the Israeli military bombed our house directly, and everyone inside was killed: my mother, my brother Tariq, his wife ‘Ula, their three children who survived the previous bombing – Muhammad, Rital and little Ahmad, my sister Shirin, 43, and her two children – ‘Alaa, 10, and Diaa, 8. I had been looking forward so much to going back to Jabalya and reuniting with them after a year apart, to celebrating with them. But the occupation killed that dream, too. It hit me so hard, and all I wanted was to die to escape the pain.

When the ceasefire started on 19 January 2025, neighbors got some of my family’s bodies out from under the rubble of our house, but they couldn’t get them all because they didn’t have heavy equipment. I waited for a week until we displaced people were allowed to go back north. It was so painful to go back not to see my mother but to get her body out from under the rubble, take a last look at her, say goodbye and bury her. But I wasn’t even allowed that small grace. Without heavy equipment, we couldn’t get her body out. She’s still under the rubble, and I’m waiting for the day when we can get her out.

Our house was destroyed in the bombing, and now I’m homeless. I’m moving around between my fiancée’s house, friends’ places and my uncle’s. It’s very hard. In general, the situation here in Gaza is too awful to describe. The sight of the ruins is horrifying. Everyone is in terrible physical and mental condition, suffering badly, and they don’t know where to go. There’s no life, no homes, not even a place to set up a tent. People are putting up their tents on the ruins of their homes, and many tents are being blown away by the winter winds. There’s a shortage of water, food, electricity, and tents or mobile homes. People don’t have the basics they need to survive.

* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat a-Kurd on 10 February 2025

'Amer a-Sultan's family members who were killed in the bombing of his neighbor’s house on 22 December 2023:

His niece Rimas Tariq a-Sultan, 10 
His nephew Fares Sadiq a-Sultan, 2 months

‘Amer a-Sultan’s family members who were killed in the bombing of his family’s home on 16 January 2025:

His mother, 'Aishah Khalil Muhammad 'Amer a-Sultan, 67 

His sister, Shirin Ramadan 'Abd al-Mu'ti a-Sultan, 43 

Her children: 
‘Alaa ‘Issam a-Mutawak, 10
Diaa ‘Issam a-Mutawak, 8 

His brother, Tariq Ramadan 'Abd al-Mu'ti a-Sultan, 37 

His brother’s wife, ‘Ula Muhammad a-Sultan, 35 

Their children: 
Muhammad Tariq a-Sultan, 8
Rital Tariq a-Sultan, 7
Ahmad Tariq a-Sultan, 1.7