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The devastated remains of Reema's home.
Reema Ibraheem from Gaza, a colleague of Trócaire, reflects on the past year of horrific violence in her homeland which she had to flee some months ago with her elderly parents who had medical needs that could not be treated with the situation there…
Life in Gaza had started to show signs of improvement. The economic situation had improved slightly, and although the blockade was still in place, we had found ways to navigate some of the hardships. The health sector was still struggling, but the social conditions were showing signs of progress. One could say that life was beginning to emerge in Gaza after many harsh years that had nearly destroyed us.
Then, after October 7 2024, it was as if we were in a completely different world. Fear and panic spread throughout Gaza – it was war again. From the very first moment, we anticipated this war would be harsher and more brutal than the previous ones, but we never imagined it would be an annihilating war, as if we were witnessing the apocalypse. What was unfolding this time was entirely different – more violent, more cruel and more horrifying, deteriorating faster than we could respond. We were all confused, unsure of how to proceed.
Reema with her two sons and elderly parents in the front of the building where they used to live in what she described as 'the golden age of Gaza'.
On the evening of October 7, as the Israeli attack commenced, the first official evacuation order was issued for residents in seven neighborhoods.
The neighborhood where I lived with my children and elderly parents was at the top of that list. I quickly packed a few belongings and ensured the bag with official documents was ready. I might have been luckier than others – I work for an international organisation. I moved with my children and parents the next morning to the organisation’s guesthouse along with some colleagues. The journey was terrifying, with death surrounding us at every corner, but we arrived safely.
In the middle of that night, the neighborhood where the guesthouse was located received an immediate evacuation order because a nearby building was about to be targeted. There was terror and panic, but we managed – despite our large group – to reach a nearby hotel for shelter. The hotel was overcrowded with people seeking refuge. An airstrike occurred, and the first three journalists in Gaza were killed during this attack when a different building than the one initially reported was hit.
We spent the first week of the war moving daily from one place to another, following evacuation orders. Then came the largest evacuation order, shocking us all: all residents of Gaza and North Gaza were ordered to move to the southern governorates, as Gaza and the North were declared combat zones.
To this day, a year later, I am still in shock. I remember the evacuation day in vivid detail – the panic in the streets, the screaming, the chaos, the women crying for help, the children weeping, and the elderly who couldn’t move. It felt like the end of the world. None of us knew where to go or what to do.
As humanitarian workers, we bear the responsibility of helping others. We agreed on gathering points to move in convoys, believing this might offer more safety or at least reduce the risk. Since that day, we have moved in convoys, but without coordination. The Israeli occupation forces have not ceased issuing evacuation orders and moving people from one area to another.
From the very first day, civilians have been relentlessly targeted. Buildings are destroyed on top of their inhabitants without warning. Entire families remain buried under the rubble, unreachable by ambulances or civil defense teams because anything moving is a target for the Israeli war machine. I can’t imagine the horror of those still alive under the rubble, crying out for help. Nor can I fathom the agony of those hearing the cries but unable to reach them.
Israeli crimes have spared no one. Hospitals have been targeted, as well as schools converted into shelters for the displaced, tents housing most refugees, even areas declared humanitarian zones, markets, homes, streets, farmlands, ambulances, civil defense vehicles, healthcare workers, emergency humanitarian workers, UN staff, and UN vehicles.
Reema's home before and after it was bombed
The humanitarian situation is catastrophic, and Israel continues to tighten its blockade on the entry of emergency humanitarian aid, including food, medicine, medical supplies, shelter materials, and hygiene items. Women, children, the elderly and the sick are dying every day as a result of this humanitarian deterioration.
Despite global demands for Israel to comply with human rights treaties and UN resolutions, Israel has not responded and invaded Rafah without giving residents or refugees a chance to evacuate. This led to further humanitarian collapse.
There are no clear statistics on the extent of the destruction caused by the war so far, but more than 41,500 people have been killed and thousands remain missing, with no one knowing their fate. Estimates suggest that at least 80% of the infrastructure and buildings have been destroyed.
As for life on the ground, the suffering is unimaginable. Young children stand in long lines for hours to get food for their families from aid kitchens or to fetch water for drinking and sanitation, often returning with nothing.
As a child protection expert, I estimate that we will need at least 20 years of intensive work to help children recover from what they have experienced during this war. The situation is far beyond the capacity of both children and adults to cope. The psychological trauma is immense, and the grief and loss are beyond what anyone can manage.
There is a severe shortage of medications for chronic diseases, putting patients’ lives at great risk, and infectious diseases are spreading due to severe pollution and a lack of hygiene measures.
What’s worse than all of this is the lack of any foreseeable end. Are we to expect worse? But what could be worse than this ongoing genocide against Gazans for an entire year?
What keeps us, as Palestinians from Gaza, clinging to hope is our trust in the humanitarian efforts of individuals and some governments pressing Israel to stop this genocide and comply with international human rights treaties. This collective killing must stop – Gazans do not want to be dead underground or waiting to be killed at any moment.
