As I began to write this, here in Khan Younis, southern Gaza, Israeli missiles were striking nearby. Once you get over the initial shock of the loud explosions, the shaking of the house and your knees, the first instinct is to immediately rush to calm the children whose cries somehow seem louder and more painful than the strikes themselves.
Throughout Israel’s invasion, people in northern Gaza have been told to move to the “safety” of the south. But our day-to-day lives here are testament to the fact that in Gaza, nowhere is safe. As missiles fall, our house is filled with relatives, including lots of children – some of whom lost their homes nearby to Israeli airstrikes, others who have fled the bombardment in northern Gaza for the “safety” of the south. It was here in the south that I lost my closest relatives on my father’s side. Three brothers and their wives and children were struck by Israeli missiles, and their entire building was reduced to rubble. Only a few of them survived, mainly those who had gone out to buy supplies. They had no warning whatsoever, and no leaflets had been dropped in the area telling people to evacuate.
