Two weeks ago, I had not heard of Telegram. Now the messaging app is one of the only ways I have to find out if my family are alive or dead. Across Gaza, people have only their phones with which to communicate the brutal consequences of Israel’s bombardment and the humanitarian crisis that is unfolding. My own parents – who were visiting from their home, in Dundee – are trapped in the city of Deir al-Balah along with my brother, a doctor battling to care for injured civilians with dwindling medical supplies.
Without international journalists reporting from the territory, and with communications cut, there is an effective news blackout. So Gazans have created messaging groups city by city, street by street. One night a message appeared that there had been an explosion on the street where my family live. My aunt responded, asking what the family name was. How can I describe those moments when you are waiting for the reply? Then it comes back that it was our neighbour’s home that was hit. And then that horrible feeling: you’re relieved it’s not your family, but then you’re devastated that it’s happened to another family.
