I was woken up today by a text message from my uncle Mohammad. Israeli F-16 warplanes had just destroyed the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Education, and the Palestinian Legislative Council, all potent symbols of Israel's desire to destroy and demolish. I cannot think of any excuse for the destruction of ministries that regulate law and order and education.
The bombing continued, as it has for six days now. The targets are almost exclusively civilian, as they have been for six days. A school in the Tufah neighborhood, a mosque in Abasan, homes, farms, the aforementioned ministries and the house of Palestinian democracy, the Legislative Council.
The biggest news, however, was the assassination of Nizar Rayan, the most senior Hamas figure to be killed by Israel since Abdelaziz Rantisi and Ahmad Yassin in 2004. Rayan was killed when the Israeli airforce fired six missiles into his family home in Jabalya, killing him and 12 members of his family, including women and children. Rayan may well have been the only senior Hamas figure that remained in his home after Israel began its war on Gaza. He had, by principle, refused to leave his home despite the continuous threats on his life. When the Israeli army began its policy of calling homeowners and ordering them to leave their homes before destroying them two years ago, Rayan was one of those who helped nullify that tactic by gathering neighbors to the rooftops of the threatened homes.
Rayan was very close to Hamas' military wing. Like most of Hamas' political leadership in Gaza, his son was a recruit in the Qassam Brigades and was killed by Israel two years ago. Rayan himself was known to have joined the Brigades for night patrols. However, his influence on the political leadership seems to have been minimal. In my view, Rayan was a stubborn and impractical man, and he had been marginalized by Ismail Haniya in recent months.
The nature of his death, however, is appalling in that six missiles slammed into his home at once even though the Israeli leadership had to be certain women and children would also be killed. It brings back memories of the assassination in 2002 of Salah Shehadeh,who was killed when the Israeli airforce dropped a one ton bomb on the apartment building where he lived, killing 15 people, including nine children.
The killing of Rayan and his family raised the number of Palestinians killed in Gaza since Israel began its murderous rampage on Saturday to a staggering 420. The number of wounded that have been treated at Gaza's under-equipped, understaffed and overstretched hospital has exceeded 2,000. The hospitals, already short on more than 130 different types of medicine due to the siege, have run out of gauze, anesthetics and sheets.
Gaza has come to a standstill. There are very few people in the streets, very few areas untouched by the death and destruction wrought by Israel's fighter bombers. Fuel and electricity are rare, as is flour and bread. While millions around the world watched fireworks displays that welcomed in the new year, it is likely that none got a night as explosive and loud as Gaza.
As I try to do every night, I talked to some of my family in Gaza over the phone at around midnight. I tried calling my uncle Mohammad in Gaza City first, but he wasn't picking up. He texted me saying he'd call back later. In that environment, you naturally become worried where you usually might be apprehensive, but I figured that if something serious had happened one of my other uncles would tell me, so I called my uncle Mahmoud.
I was pleasantly surprised when my grandma picked up instead. I'd been wanting to talk to her but she was always asleep when I called at the end of each day. Once we'd cleared up the usual confusion (she says me and my dad sound exactly the same), I offered my condolences on the death of her brother who had passed away the day before in Saudi Arabia. Like many Palestinian families, the politics of the region and border controls had ensure that they hadn't seen each other for 20 years.
I asked her how she was dealing with the bombardment, and she said it was tough, it was scary, there were missiles everywhere. She said they'd only had four hours of electricity in the last 30 hours, and had just gotten power again an hour ago. Gaza's electricity grid, already having to ration power across different areas for 6-8 hours a day, was buckling under the pressure as many power lines had been damaged by the Israeli attacks. I asked her if my grandpa was okay, and she told me hes the same as ever, just following the news and eating at mealtimes. I asked her what they'd been making him, and she told me they were all they really had to eat were olives, hummus and some cheese. But there was no bread, she said they'd been waiting all day for the power to come back so that they could bake some on an electrical cooker, but as she said that the power went out again, and the flour they had used was wasted. She suddenly got really upset, complaining that they had been waiting since yesterday for some bread and that they wouldn't be having any for the second day in a row. I told her to not worry, that I'm sure the power would return soon. I told her that this would be all over soon, that the bombing would stop, but I didn't continue and tell her the power would be back all the time, because it hasn't been for two years. She didn't believe me, but pretended that she did. When things are difficult, everybody lies to make their loved ones feel better, but it's a useless tactic when they know you're lying.
Mahmoud got on the phone next, complaining about the useless flour. I asked him if he thought the electricity would be back soon seeing as they hadn't had their ration of power over the last two days. He said it might be back in 5 minutes, in half an hour, in two hours or in a day. There was no way of knowing; it is even impossible to rely on the idea of having electricity for part of the day only.
I asked him how the bombing had been today, and he told me it was just as continuous as ever, but they really had seemed to run out of targets. They were just bombing the same homes and sites over and over again. He told me about a house in the next neighborhood that had been bombed two nights ago, and was bombed again today. It had remained standing after the first attack, but today all six stories were demolished. One of the day's new targets, however, was the 'Ibad al-Rahman Mosque in Abasan, which was completely destroyed. The helicopters and drones were continuously buzzing overhead. He let me know his wife's family were all over at his apartment tonight. The plan had been for everyone to eat together and remember their late brother, but without power or bread that hadn't happened. I asked if little Hanan had finally gone to sleep tonight and he said she had, she was exhausted after being unable to sleep all week.
I called Jasim next, who had just gotten into bed. I asked him how the day had been, and he said it was okay until he heard of the Rayan assassination. I told him that Rayan's death wouldn't really be a big blow to Hamas because of his limited influence on the leadership, but he said he wasn't bothered about that, he was bothered at the fact that so many of his family, including the young children, had died with him. He said it was admirable for a man to not leave his house even though he knew he was a target, but he should have made the children leave, knowing how merciless the Israelis have always been.
He then started venting his frustration and anger at the Egyptian regime for continuing to close the Rafah crossing even as Gaza had lost more than 400 of its sons and daughters in less than a week. He went on to wonder aloud what Israel was trying to do by bombing civilians with F-16s. They're fighting us like we're a superpower, he said. I told him it was stupidity; Israel has always believed a show of devastating force and destruction can cow those it oppresses into surrendering. He agreed that it certainly was stupid-where in the world are civilian homes and mosques targeted by fighter jets?
He told me most people were expecting the ground invasion to begin tomorrow, Friday. I asked him if he was going to go to the mosque for Friday prayers, but he told me there was no way. Israel has been targeting mosques every single day since it launched this war. With the destruction of the mosque in Abasan today to add to the list, there was every reason to believe that going to the mosque had now become a life-threatening risk.
He sighed, then told me he wanted an orange. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten an orange. There were none in Gaza; oranges, like insulin, baby milk and chocolate, were considered a risk to national security by Israel. There is a lemon tree just outside their home; he joked that maybe he could convince it to bear oranges next season.
I tried calling my uncle Mohammad again several times after that, but he finally picked up an hour later. He told me there was nothing to worry about; his phone battery had died and he had been waiting all day for electricity to charge it. There were lots of voices in the background; his neighbors had gathered at his apartment. I asked him if he had gone out at all today, and he said he'd taken his son Adham and stepped outside the apartment for a little, just to get some sun. I asked why he hadn't tried to sleep yet, it was past 1AM, and he told me they were waiting for the 'fireworks'. He said that while the rate of bombings had gotten slightly less ferocious the last two days, the nights were just as bad, with the Israeli navy chiming in, hitting homes and fishing boats on the shore. As we talked, another explosion was heard, but this one was a bit further away.
I told him it was freezing here, how in the world were they dealing with the cold when the windows were open all the time? He said everyone had to be wearing multiple layers, coats, hats, at all hours. His 5 month old son, Yazeed, was wrapped in layers of blankets all the time, while the other kids were all sleeping together in the same room for warmth. I asked if the kids were still waking up at night from the bombings and he said they were. He told me Dina, his four year old, had asked him today when a missile was going to kill her and take her to heaven.
Meanwhile Haya, the six year old, seemed to be suffering the most, going through panic attacks and crying all the time. He told me she had been in school when the first 40 targets were bombed at once, and her school was right next to a police station. He told me they had rushed to pick her up and found children screaming and crying, their faces covered in soot and dust, panicking and terrified by the explosions and force of the bombings.
He mentioned Rayan, and he seemed more bothered than Jasim. He agreed with me that his death probably had no impact on Hamas; the source of his frustration was that Israel would use it to boost its morale. That would be true, I agreed, but there was nothing particularly daring about hitting a family home with six missiles. At the end of the day, he said, Rayan is just one of 420 Palestinians that have been murdered this week.
What is this war supposed to achieve? Let us assume that Israel's only concern truly is to end the home-made rocket fire. How is this war going to do that? Again, it has managed to destroy what little there was of infrastructure in Gaza. But it has barely dented the people's resolve, nor the capabilities of the military wings.
Israel may claim that killing Rayan, and 12 members of his family, is a success in its war against Hamas. It is deluding itself; Hamas lost its founder and spiritual leader, as well as his successor, within 2 months of each other in 2004. It has rebounded to become even more popular and more powerful since then. To that end, Israel needs to realize that Hamas is just one manifestation of the Palestinian people's will to survive and resist Israel's oppression. It is not Hamas they are at war with here, it is that will that is amongst all Palestinians, whether they support Hamas or not. And that will has proved to be indestructible.
Remember Gaza.
