The vicinity of Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza following the Israeli bombing of residential neighborhoods (Midjerney - Al Jazeera)

In her 10-part diary published by Al Jazeera Net, Palestinian cartoonist Umayyah Juha documented the harsh humanitarian conditions taking place during the Israeli war on Gaza, especially the vicinity of Al-Shifa Hospital, which the World Health Organization described last November in its periodic report as “ "Death zone."

In your hands, dear reader, is the second episode of the diary, which will be published successively over the coming days. In it, a Palestinian woman from the Al-Nasr neighborhood, Zaghbar Tower in Gaza City, narrates what she saw. She loves cats, birds, and neighbors, and draws pictures. She was displaced to Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza (until the last... He contacted her before storming the hospital for the second time on March 18, 2024) and she spread out on its cold court, waiting for salvation.

I woke up on Thursday morning, just before the dawn prayer. I did not set my alarm clock as usual, as the sound of violent bombing was an unpleasant alarm clock. I quickly got out of bed and sat up.

I was shocked to see sleeping people filling the place! Children, girls, women and elderly people, covered and uncovered, while the smell of burning garbage accumulating outside the hospital fills their noses. They are all asleep except for a few awake women. How cruel it is for fear and oppression of Arab humiliation to uproot you from your home and bed, to lie down on the hospital floor tiles without a cover!! Children's sleep meant no noise, no crying, no screaming, and bathrooms were available without crowds or queues, and perhaps they would gain more hours of rest and sleep!

The woman sleeping next to me had lost her sister and some of her children as martyrs in the war. She was keen on cleanliness. She was keen to make her children sleep close together on a regular basis. Her young child was afraid of the sounds of missiles. He had a fright attack on the first days of the war, which caused him to suffer from a fever, causing blisters to spread outside his body. She was keen to give him medicine and to ventilate his body with a piece of cardboard.

As for the family opposite me, they had their own stories of painful loss. The mother still lives in the hope that the good news will come to her that her son, who lives in the Taj Tower, which was bombed on Wednesday in the Yarmouk massacre, is still alive. She opens her phone from time to time, looks at his pictures, and suffers a bout of painful crying! Members of the family knew that he had been martyred, but no one dared to tell her about it! Her daughter also lost her husband as a martyr 10 days ago, leaving her with three young children!

On the left side of me, Hiyam’s family is sleeping on the ground. A girl who had been married for 5 months and was newly pregnant, her house was bombed, while her husband was traveling for a short period to Egypt, days before the outbreak of war. She took refuge in her parents' house. Her mother feared for her and her fetus from the fear of bombing. She said to me: I wish I could hide her and her siblings in my womb again!

Her sister, Sondos, who was 15 years old, suffered from urinary continence from fear! She always took care of her skin, applying moisturizing cream to her face and hands, before and after sleep, even during the war days.

The displaced families shared the floor area of ​​a large hall and corridors, excluding the men. Some of them received an area of ​​one and a half square metres, some of them received two square metres, and some of them took a place from the side of the road in the corridors to settle down! Meanwhile, bags, bags of clothes, and bedding are piled up in every corner, making moving patients’ beds very difficult and confusing, especially while the displaced people are sleeping!

This floor is designated for caesarean sections in Al-Shifa Hospital, but nevertheless, it has become crowded with war wounded! Their sight was heart-wrenching.

There is a private bathroom for each room in the department. All of these bathrooms have been made for public use by the displaced. I wait until the late evening hours so that I can have the opportunity to use the bathroom without waiting! I entered one of the rooms and found a friend of mine by chance, accompanying her brother’s wife who was injured in the war. She said to me, “Look at her. I was always telling her about you.”

I approached her and she had severe injuries, one of which was in her brain, part of which had been removed! Another severe injury to her spine. Her sister-in-law held my hand tightly and vowed that I would pray for her recovery! Her whole body was trembling, and she couldn't control its movement! Then she motioned to my friend to show me her back injury. The scene was horrific, as if her back had been struck by an earthquake that caused its skin and flesh to split with a longitudinal crack, surrounded by wounds! I have never seen such a shocking scene in my life!!

I cried, then quickly wiped away my tears, so that the injured person would not become more desperate and in pain, and I went out, praying to God to grant her a speedy recovery.

My friend said sadly, “The doctors told us that she might be permanently paralyzed!” In the room next to her, a boy and a girl were lying, both of whom had suffered several fractures, severe burns, and deformities. I approached the grieving mother and said to her: I ask God to heal your two children. She answered with anger, “I am their aunt. Their mother was martyred, along with the rest of the family! And they do not know it.” .

She was so touched, they both called her Mama all the time! I said to her in pain, “Then only a boy and a girl remain in the family!” She said in a low voice, “This is not a boy, but a girl, but her hair was completely burned!” I did not follow! She left the place silently, with a huge pain in her heart! Do children as young as roses deserve all these tons of missiles, to amputate them from their families, and distort their features!! What moral misery this cowardly occupation is arming itself with, and what future revenges it has made with its own hands and will reap at the hands of these children!!

I returned to my place, curled up on myself, and began imagining the extent of the fear that befell these wounded people when the treacherous missile attacked them in the dark of the night!! How many times did they scream for Mama or Papa for help!! What horror befell them when they only heard the echo of their voices! They smell nothing but the smell of death!!

The nursery car passed to my left. It was carrying a baby, who had just been born. How beautiful it was! The nurse said while smiling, “His name is Youssef.” I wanted to photograph the scene, but the carriage quickly went to the mother's room.

The birth of Youssef made the dust of sadness lift from my chest. The birth of Youssef is the birth of hope and certainty that this people will not and will not die. At a time when the occupation is targeting women and children with murder, God wills that Youssef and dozens of other children will be born!

Gaza will not grow old, nor will it become sterile. It will remain fertile and friendly, producing the best heroes and notables in all fields.

This evening, the noise of children's voices was unbearable. This situation continued until after midnight. I almost shouted at everyone to be quiet and sleep, but my sister told me to be silent and said, “You will get used to it tomorrow. You will also sleep amidst this noise, and perhaps worse than it!”

My sister was displaced to the hospital in the first week of the war, after her house was threatened with bombing! I was sad for her, as she also bears the responsibility of 6 children with her, while her husband struggles to provide bread and water, since early morning! I slept that day crying.

I do not imagine that I will endure an extra night in this place, nor do I imagine that days will pass by here, and that I will become accustomed to the noise and confinement in a very narrow space, of these two square meters (place), which is shared by 15 people! The bombing did not stop throughout the day, but in the evening it was more intense and terrifying!

I grabbed my rosary and began to ask God’s forgiveness to remove my fear, and I chose to put my head on my pillow and escape with my soul into the rubble of my house, rebuild it again, arrange the scattered furniture, shake off the dust from it, pick up my clothes, wash them, dry them, set up my studio and paintings, and I went to... deep sleep!!

Source: Al Jazeera