The Israeli killing machine continues its daily work of claiming the lives of innocent children in Gaza (Anatolia)
More than 13,000 children were killed in Gaza. Amr Abdullah was one of them.
On the morning Amr Abdullah was killed, he woke up before dawn to pray Ramadan prayers with his father, mother, two brothers, and aunt, in an open field in southern Gaza.
They prayed: “It is You we worship, and You we seek help. Guide us to the straight path, the path of those upon whom You have bestowed blessings, not those of anger nor those who go astray.”
It was dark. They returned to their tents. Gone are their old lives – their village, Al-Qarara, their house built with money Amr's father saved during the 30 years he worked in the Gulf – their orchards, their school, the local mosque and the city's cultural museum with artifacts dating back to 4,000 BC.
It exploded and became rubble.
The ruins of Amr's house
Amr, 17, was going to graduate from high school this year. Schools were closed in November. He would go to college, perhaps to be an engineer like his father, who was a prominent community leader. Amr was a gifted student. Now he lived in a tent in a designated “safe zone” that, as he and his family already knew, was not safe. It was repeatedly bombed by the Israelis.
It was cold and rainy. The family huddled together to keep warm. And they are starving.
His uncle Abdul Basit Abdullah, who lives in New Jersey, tells me: “When you say ‘Amr,’ it sounds as if you are talking about the moon.” “He was the special, handsome, wonderful, kind person.”
Amr in Gaza
Israeli attacks began in northern Gaza. Then I headed south. On the morning of Friday, December 1, Israeli drones dropped leaflets over the village of Amr.
The leaflets stated: “To the residents of Al-Qarara, Khirbet Al-Khuza’a, Abasan, and Bani Suhaila.” “You must evacuate immediately and go to shelters in the Rafah area.” The city of Khan Yunis is a dangerous combat zone. You have been warned. Signed by the Israel Defense Forces.
Leaflets fall over the village of Amr
Families in Gaza live together. Entire generations. This is why dozens of family members were killed in a single airstrike. Amr grew up surrounded by uncles, aunts and cousins.
The villagers panicked. Some started packing their belongings. Some refused to leave.
One of Amr's uncles was adamant that he stay while the family went to the "safe zone." His son was a doctor at Nasser Hospital. Amr's cousin left the hospital to plead with his father to leave. Moments after he and his father fled, their street was bombed.
Amr and his family moved to live with his relatives in Khan Yunis. A few days later, more posts dropped. He asked everyone to go to Rafah.
Amr's family, joined by relatives from Khan Yunis, fled to Rafah.
Rafah was a nightmare. Desperate Palestinians were living out in the open, on the streets. There was little food and water. The family slept in their car. It was cold and rainy. They had no blankets. They searched desperately for a tent. There were no tents. They found an old piece of plastic, which they attached to the back of the car to create a protected area. There were no bathrooms. People relieved themselves on the side of the road.
They were displaced twice within a week.
Amr's father, who suffers from diabetes and high blood pressure, fell ill. The family took him to the European Hospital near Khan Yunis. The doctor told him he was sick; Because he wasn't eating enough.
“We can't handle your situation,” the doctor told him. “There are more critical cases.”
“He had a beautiful house,” Abdullah says of his older brother. "Now he's homeless." He knew everyone in his hometown. He now lives on the street with crowds of strangers. No one has enough to eat. There is no clean water. There are no proper facilities or bathrooms.”
The family decided to move again to Al-Mawasi, which Israel designated a “humanitarian zone.” They would at least be on open land, some of which belonged to their families. The coastal area, filled with sand dunes, is now home to about 380,000 displaced Palestinians. The Israelis promised to deliver international humanitarian aid to Al-Mawasi, little of which arrived. Water must be transported by truck. there is no electricity.
Israeli warplanes hit a residential complex in Al-Mawasi in January, where medical teams and their families from the International Rescue Committee and Medical Aid for Palestinians were being housed. Many of them were injured. An Israeli tank fired on a house in Al-Mawasi where MSF staff and their families were taking shelter in February, killing two and wounding six.
Amr's family set up two makeshift tents made of palm tree leaves and plastic sheets. Israeli drones flew overhead day and night.
The day before he was killed, Amr was able to make a phone call — telecommunications are often cut off — to speak to his sister in Canada.
The Egyptian company Hala, which means "hello" in Arabic, provided travel permits for Gazans to enter Egypt for $350, before the Israeli attack. Since the genocide began, the company has raised the price to $5,000 for an adult and $2,500 for a child. Sometimes they charged up to $10,000 for a travel permit.
Hala has offices in Cairo and Rafah. Once the money is paid – Hala only accepts US dollars – the applicant’s name is submitted to the Egyptian authorities. It can take weeks to obtain a permit. It would cost about $25,000 to get Amr's family out of Gaza, double that if his widowed aunt and three cousins were included. This was not a sum that Amr's relatives abroad could raise quickly. They've started a GoFundMe page. They are still trying to raise enough money.
Once Palestinians arrive in Egypt, the permits expire within a month. Most Palestinian refugees in Egypt live on money sent to them from abroad.
Amr woke up in the dark. It was the first Friday of Ramadan. He joined his family in dawn prayer. It was 5 am.
Muslims fast during the day during the month of Ramadan. They eat and drink as soon as the sun sets and shortly before dawn. But the food was very scarce. A little olive oil. Thyme spice. It wasn't much.
They returned to their tents after prayer. Amr was in the tent with his aunt and three cousins. A shell exploded near the tent. Shrapnel tore off his aunt's leg and seriously injured his cousins. Amr frantically tried to help them. A second shell exploded. Shrapnel tore through Amr's stomach and exited through his back.
Amr stopped. He came out of the tent. He collapsed. His elderly cousins ran towards him. They had enough gasoline in their car – fuel was in short supply – to take Amr to Nasser Hospital, three miles away.
“Amr, are you okay?” His cousins asked him.
“Yes,” he groaned.
“Amr, are you awake?” They asked after a few minutes.. “Yes,” he whispered.
They lifted him from the car. They carried him into the crowded hospital corridors. They put it down. He died.
Amr and death
They carried Amr's body back to the car. They drove to the family camp.
Amr's uncle shows me a video of Amr's mother cradling his body.
“My son, my son, my beloved son,” she cries in the video, her left hand tenderly stroking his face. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
They buried Omar in a temporary grave.
Later that night the Israelis bombed again. Many Palestinians were injured and killed.
The empty tent, which Amr's family had occupied the day before, was obliterated. There is no longer any of them left.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.