Hanan Abu Rabi’

A 30-year-old from Gaza City, Hanan described her family’s journey to southern Gaza, repeated displacement, hunger and harsh living conditions

Before the war I lived in Gaza City with my husband, Yusef, 33, and our four children: Yihya, 7, Amal, 5, Maryam, 2, and Muhammad, 4 months old.

The war broke out nine days after Muhammad was born. It was very stressful with the bombings all around us. All I could do was hug him and the other kids as they trembled with fear, and keep them close to me.

The airstrikes kept getting closer from every direction. The intensity was too horrible for words. One time, we spent the entire night under the stairs with shrapnel falling all around us. On the first day of the ceasefire, in November, Yusef and I decided to move to southern Gaza. We took some clothes and blankets and strapped them to Yusef’s bicycle.

We crossed the Netzarim checkpoint and followed all the orders the Israeli army gave us. I was holding the baby, Maryam was on the bike, and the older kids were walking between us. We all had our hands up in the air.

While we were crossing the checkpoint, we heard gunfire and found ourselves walking over a body we hadn’t noticed earlier. It was terrifying. I will never forget those moments as long as I live. One of the soldiers behind the dirt mounds called out to me in Arabic over a loudspeaker: “You, with the black scarf and the black robe. Take the cover off the baby’s head and show us his face.” I did as he said. We continued walking, and I prayed we’d get through safely.

We walked until we got to the entrance to Nuseirat Refugee Camp, where we sat down on the ground. We were exhausted, hungry and thirsty. I breastfed Muhammad and we gave the other kids a biscuit and a date each.

Later, we took a service taxi to the city of Khan Yunis. We got off near Nasser Hospital, and Yusef went to the government school nearby and set up a tent for us in the yard. We stayed in that tent for about a month and a half. Our time there was difficult and frightening. Because we don’t have a lot of money, we only had one meal a day, made up for canned food that Yusef bought. We could barely get any formula and diapers for Muhammad.

When the bombings near the school grew worse, we decided to move to the western part of Khan Yunis, near the UNRWA building. We set up a tent outside the fence around the building. At least there were fewer bombings there, and we could relax a bit after a terrifying and exhausting period. But it was still a struggle to get food and we were hungry. It was also hard to find drinking water. All I could make for the kids was small portions of canned food: fava beans, hummus and cheese, with pita bread we baked over a bonfire. Diapers were also hard to get because they’re so expensive, 100 shekels (~27 USD) a package. Sometimes Muhammad had to stay in one diaper all day, which gave him rashes and made his skin peel. He needed medical attention, but I was too scared to take him to the hospital and leave the other kids behind, and going there all together was too complicated.

In January, after another month of suffering, the army invaded Khan Yunis. We were trapped in our tent for three days without food and water, with gunfire and explosions all day long. The children were shaking with fear. We saw death before us. Finally, we went out of the tent and left the few pieces of clothing and food we had behind us. We left the tent under fire and walked about two kilometers, with tanks next to us and death hovering above. It was a miracle we made it out alive. Eventually, we found a car that took us to Rafah.

In Rafah, we stayed two nights in the home of friends of ours. Then Yusef found a new place to set up a tent. It’s small and flimsy and doesn’t protect us from the rain. That’s where we are now. All we have is a few light blankets.

Our situation is very difficult. We now rely entirely on charity, but there isn’t enough food. The only things you can buy here are canned food and grains that cost a lot. There’s nothing healthy to eat. We haven’t had vegetables and fruit in months. They’re very rare and expensive. Meat is out of the question. I can barely remember what it looks like. When meat arrives at the stores, it costs 120 shekels a kilo. Eggs are also rare and cost 100 shekels a package.

The children asked for apples, so Yusef went and bought three apples for five shekels each, and a small packet of biscuits for five shekels. Now we eat about two meals a day. In the morning, we have biscuits or pita bread with za’atar or a can of tuna, whatever is available. At midday, we go to the soup kitchen in the camp. My son Yihya takes a pot, waits in line and brings us whatever they prepare that day: lentils with rice, beans with rice, peas with rice, pasta.

We look forward so much to the meal. I feel humiliated. We’ve become beggars. I’m very sad about what happened to us, and cry a lot and worry about our future.

Yesterday, there was heavy shooting here and a bomb exploded near our tent. People were killed here. I tried to create a barrier out of bags and blankets to protect my children.

Now, the threat of evacuation is looming over us again because the Israeli army is going to enter Rafah. I have no strength left. I can’t go on. Where will we go? We’ve been displaced again and again, and there is nowhere safe in the Gaza Strip. Where will we go? All I want is to find a place where our lives are not in danger. I pray to God that we survive this. That this nightmare will end and we’ll go back to Gaza.

* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 13 February 24