‘I want to fulfill my dead brother’s dream’ – rebuilding life in the ruins of Gaza

Since the war started, job had become his life. Many of the people who were bombed were his neighbors with whom he had grown up.

Hatem al-Attar, 25, was not married. His bravery was not reckless, or born of ignorance. He knew that he could die at any moment.

“All the days of war from 7th October It was difficult till now. Every second was difficult in this war. “You can lose your life, or the life of a loved one, at any moment,” says Hatem.

He is sitting with his colleagues in the Civil Protection office in Deir al-Balah. They chat and check their phones. Everyone is a survivor.

Ninety-four of his companions were killed. More than 300 were injured – almost half of the Civil Defense Organization in Gaza.

For Hatem, death was as close as his legs were blown off by an explosion in a house near Nasser Hospital.

“People around the house were injured and killed,” he remembers.

“I went inside to check if there was anyone alive or dead. As soon as I went inside, a reconnaissance missile hit the house.”

Footage taken by a colleague shows him entering the building. A fire is burning on the left side of the frame.

Then there is a loud bang, a cloud of smoke, a man stumbles out, but it is not Hatem.

His friends go back inside and pull him out. He is coughing and needs to be held. But he survives.

Others close to him were not so lucky.

On March 14 last year – the beginning of Ramzan – he got a call at four in the morning from one of his brothers.

During the war, no one called for good news in Gaza.

“He told me that our house in al-Burez was attacked and my father was killed.”

Hatem went to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah and met a family friend who took him to the mortuary.

“When I got there, my father was lying on the floor next to eight other bodies. They were my sister-in-law and her seven children! I was in shock.”

Still, Hatem continued to visit the sites of explosions, collapsing buildings, debris where the dead and sometimes the living were buried. He took out the dead bodies and some body parts.

Then the time came when the bombing and firing stopped.

First night without air raids. Time to start thinking about something that had no guarantees in the last 15 months – the future.

His thoughts turn to education and romance.

“With the deal, I need to think about what to do next. I will continue university studies when universities are back in business. I am single but I will think about marriage.”

To tell the story of how the people of Gaza experience this war, my BBC colleagues and I have relied on the tireless efforts of local journalists working on our behalf.

israel Foreign media banned from entering Gaza To report the war independently.

The BBC’s local journalists have been on the streets almost non-stop for the past 24 hours capturing the mood in Gaza as the ceasefire approaches: a gunman standing in the street in Nussirat, central Gaza, firing into the air; Hamas fighters and police are re-emerging; A few yards down the road another group of men are shooting skyward; Crowds are gathering at intersections and junctions; A man is kneeling and kissing the ground.

But all this is happening in the background of destruction. Trucks and cars are passing by loaded with people’s belongings. Some people use donkey carts to carry their possessions left after their many displacements.

Today hundreds of thousands of pilgrims are taking place in Gaza. Some are really moving. Others exist in imagination. Everyone has only one direction – home.

Professor Juma Abu Shiha arrived at the remains of his home in Nusirat.

First, he says the feeling of being alive is “indescribable.” He prays to himself: “God is the best disposer of our affairs.”

He repeats this as he moves from one ruined room to another. His wife and several children follow him.

The walls have been blown away. There are marks of machine guns and shrapnel on the interior.

Professor Abu Shiha tells how he built the house block by block, painted it and captured the moment he brought his family to live here.

“I can’t find a house, I can only see destruction, no home,” he says. “I didn’t expect this. I was expecting to come back to a house and me and my children. I will find a place to shelter.”

He points to his daughters’ rooms and his sons’ rooms, which were decorated with so much care and are now ruined. “The feeling is indescribable,” he says.

There is a huge task of reconstruction ahead. The United Nations and aid agencies have repeatedly said Israel accused of obstructing the flow of aidThe United States at one point threatened to freeze military aid to Israel unless more aid was allowed into Gaza. Israel denied restricting aid.

Aid trucks were crossing the strip throughout the afternoon. They also included a convoy from the Jordanian Hashemite charity organization, which we reported last weekOn the journey from Amman to Gaza.

Forklift trucks delivered tons of medicine and food to help the nearly 2 million displaced people in Gaza – about 90% of the population.

Such assistance is tangible assistance. It can be weighed, counted, loaded and ultimately distributed. People can be fed food, medicine can be given. But there is another challenge whose demands are even greater and which will have a profound impact on Gaza’s future.

The war has traumatized an unknown number of adults and children. We recorded some of their stories But we know about thousands more who remain untold.

The children have suffered severe hardships. According to a survey of 504 child-care providers, for UK charity War Child96% of the children felt that death was imminent.

The interviews also found that 49% had a desire to die. Often our reporters hear from young survivors saying they wish they could connect with a deceased mother, father or sibling.

Ten-year-old Amr al-Hindi was the only survivor of an Israeli attack on the building where he lived in Beit Lahiya last October. Our colleague in the field filmed Amar in the hospital immediately after the attack.

The floor around him was covered with wounded. A woman was sitting with blood flowing from her ear. A man had died nearby.

“Where’s the sheriff?” Amr asked again and again. A nurse tells him that the sheriff is okay. “I’ll take you up to see him.” But his brother the Sheriff did not survive. Neither did his other brother, Ali, or his sister Aseel, or his mother and father. The whole family had gone.

We went back to see what happened to Amr Al Hindi right after the ceasefire agreement was announced. He was living with his grandparents, and it was clear that they loved him with great care and tenderness. After the bombing, three of the child’s toes were amputated, but he was able to walk normally.

Amar sat on his grandfather’s lap and started looking straight at the camera. He was calm and cool, as if he was looking out from behind a thick protective screen. He began to tell about his brother Ali and how he wanted to go to Jordan to study to become a doctor.

He said, “I want to be like Ali. I want to fulfill his dream and go to Jordan to become a doctor.” But in the last few words, tears started falling and he started crying bitterly.

Amr’s grandfather kissed his cheeks; She said “Darling” and patted his chest.

At this moment it is understood that many wars are going to happen here.

Some who are staying. Others, the survivors, will live long into the future.

With additional reporting by Alice Doyard, Malak Hasona and Adam Campbell.