CrossFireArabia
The entire Arab world will likely face the threats of environmental disasters in the near years to come and future generations because of the Israeli wanton destruction of the Gaza Strip. Here is why.
CrossFireArabia
By Nour Dawood
Since October 2023, when Israel launched its genocidal war in Gaza, over 16,800 children have been killed. Behind each staggering statistic lies a name, a face, a story. These children had dreams, hopes, families who loved them, and futures that will never unfold. Israel may claim military objectives, but the reality on the ground reveals children at the heart of its devastation.
Here, we honor the stories of 20 children whose lives were brutally cut short. Their stories have been pieced together through interviews with their families, social media posts, and news reports. These are not just numbers. They are names, stories, and tragedies that must not be forgotten.
Siblings Aya and Aboud Abu Oun were killed on October 17. Their mother, Asmaa Mughari, shared their memory with heartbreaking tributes on social media. Aboud, her youngest, had picked out a jacket he was excited to wear but never got the chance. His love for drawing was so strong that the family kept searching the rubble of their home, hoping to find any of his sketches. “I keep asking them if they found anything,” Asmaa shared.
In another post, Asmaa celebrated Aya’s first graduation certificate. “It was your first achievement in school, and I’m so proud of you—both in life and in death,” she wrote, expressing the unbearable pride and loss every parent hopes never to experience.
On January 29, six-year-old Hind Rajab was killed when an Israeli tank fired at her family’s car in Tal Al-Hawa. According to the UN’s Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), forensic evidence confirmed that the shots came from close range. Hind was trapped among the bodies of her family members for hours, crying for help over the phone in her final moments.
Her mother, Wissam Hamadah, shared the agony of not being able to save her. “My sweetheart, I couldn’t reach you. Forgive me,” she tearfully recounted. Hind’s body was recovered days later, along with two paramedics who had been killed while trying to rescue her.
Juman was a bright, ambitious 13-year-old who excelled in school and Islamic studies, even memorizing the Quran. She had dreams, especially of peace, hoping for a day when her family would be reunited without the fear of war. On her birthday, December 1, she expressed this wish, but just six days later, an Israeli missile struck her home, killing her, her two sisters, Yaman and Bisan, and wiping out most of her family.
Her aunt shared a deeply emotional tribute: “The missile erased them from our civil registry, but not from our hearts. Juman’s smile, her kind eyes, remain untouched, even by war.”
Mohammed and Zeina Hijazi were displaced from their home in northern Gaza to Deir Al-Balah, seeking refuge from relentless bombings. But even in displacement, they found no safety. On December 23, Israeli airstrikes killed both children. Their father remembered Mohammed’s love for simple joys—cake on his birthday, mulukhiyah, and shawarma. “He was so excited to start kindergarten, but instead, he joined the kindergarten of paradise.”
Zeina, only two years old, adored her older brother. She would often tease him by pulling his hair, but they were inseparable. “When Zeina took her first steps, Mohammed was the one who excitedly shared the news with our family,” their father recalled. “Now, they walk together in paradise.”
Laya was a lively three-year-old with a love for staying up late, dancing, and playing in the water. On January 6, she was killed in Gaza City by an Israeli airstrike. Her mother, Asma Naim, shared her grief through poignant words: “You loved everything about life—parties, swimming, strawberries. I can’t grasp that you’re gone.”
The memory of Laya’s blue dress, her messy hair, and her infectious joy lives on in her mother’s heart. “You loved your father so much, and you looked just like him,” Asma shared, her pain reflected in every word.
Known for his big heart and his habit of initiating family group hugs, Yousef was a joyful presence in his home. His father remembers how Yousef would always ask about his work hours and excitedly greet him when he came home. “Every time I went to work, he’d run to me, hug me, and kiss me. He was always the first one there,” his father shared.
On October 15, an Israeli airstrike hit their family home, taking Yousef’s young life. His father’s pain is immeasurable: “I lost everything, but the biggest loss was my son Yousef.”
Habiba, a talented young girl, excelled at school and loved painting. She had dreams of becoming a doctor, but those dreams were destroyed when an Israeli airstrike hit her home on October 25. Her mother, Feda’a Murjan, begged for an end to the bloodshed. “Please stop all of this. My Habiba is gone, and I don’t want more mothers to go through this pain.”
Twins Abdullah and Mahmoud were avid soccer players with dreams of representing Palestine on the national team. Abdullah hoped to become a defender, while Mahmoud aspired to be a goalkeeper. Their connection was more than just brotherly love—they shared the same passion, the same goals. Mahmoud would often proudly declare that he was “seconds” older than his brother.
On October 23, their dreams were shattered when an airstrike killed both boys, their mother, and several other family members.
Reem was the apple of her grandfather Khaled’s eye. He lovingly called her “the soul of the soul” and, even during the war, would bike long distances just to get her favorite foods like ketchup. “Reem was a part of my life,” Khaled told Anadolu Agency, his voice breaking as he recounted how an Israeli airstrike struck their home.
“I found myself buried under the rubble,” he said. “I suffered bruises, and my daughter was injured, but worst of all, we lost Reem and Tariq, my beloved grandchildren. My other son and daughter were also wounded.”
His dreams of seeing Reem grow up, go to university, and turn to him for advice on her future were shattered. “She was my light,” he added.
Salma was the spirited middle child between her older sister, Sarah, and her younger brother, Omar. On December 5, as their family tried to flee northern Gaza for safety, Salma ran towards her father, a photographer working for UNRWA, when she was shot and killed. “My three-year-old son, Omar, still asks me where Salma is,” Hussein Jaber told Al Jazeera. “He doesn’t understand how she could have been walking beside him, and now she’s just gone.”
Her absence haunts the family as they struggle to explain the incomprehensible to a child who can only remember her as a constant, loving presence.
Affectionately called “Little Wael” after his father, veteran Al Jazeera correspondent Wael Al-Dahdouh, Mahmoud was determined to follow in his father’s footsteps. During the war, he and his sister Kholoud posted videos documenting Gaza’s suffering, pleading for help. “There is no safe place in Gaza. This is the fiercest war we’ve ever known,” they said in one video.
On October 25, Mahmoud’s life was cut short along with his mother, his seven-year-old sister, Sham, and his infant nephew, Adam, in an Israeli airstrike on Nuseirat refugee camp. Twenty-one others perished with them.
Mahmoud’s dream of becoming a journalist and sharing Gaza’s story with the world died that day, but his voice lives on through the videos he courageously shared.
Lauren was the “long-awaited joy” of her family. Her uncle, Akram Hassan, mourned the niece he adored before ever holding her. “For the first and last time, I became an uncle. Lauren’s laughter stole our hearts. She was the family’s fruit, as her grandfather lovingly called her.”
Lauren’s potential was limitless. “She might have grown up to be an engineer like her father, or a teacher like her mother. She could have been a beauty icon, but the oppressive machinery of the occupier stole her from us.”
Akram’s heartache pours through his words as he reflects on all the moments he’ll never share with his beloved niece.
Yousef, known for his striking green eyes, was just starting kindergarten when his life was cut short. He was killed along with his mother Du’aa and his only brother Musab, and their father followed them as a martyr ten months later.
Yousef’s mother, devastated by her loss, spoke through tears. “He’s not a number. My son has a name. People must know the names of our martyrs.”
Tala was just a child, joyfully playing outside in her pink roller skates when tragedy struck. Her father, Hussam, recounted the devastating moment: “At 5 p.m., Tala finally convinced her mother to let her go outside. A few minutes later, two massive explosions rocked our building. I rushed downstairs, and the first thing I saw was her pink roller skate, barely visible under the rubble.”
Tala was covered in blood, struggling for her last breath. The pink roller skate, once a symbol of her innocent joy, became a haunting reminder of what the war had taken from her family.
Khaled was riding his bike when he was killed in a targeted attack meant for Al Jazeera journalist Ismail al-Ghoul and cameraman Rami al-Rifi. His mother’s voice cracked as she spoke to Al Jazeera: “He’s not a number. My son has a name, and everyone must know it.”
Khaled wasn’t just a victim of war; he was a boy who cared for his family and neighbors. Every day, he carried food in his backpack to deliver to an elderly neighbor and his injured son, a small act of kindness that now carries the weight of an unimaginable loss.
Ziad was just 3 years old when an Israeli airstrike tore through his family home in the Nuseirat refugee camp. His father, consumed by grief, shared his heart-wrenching final moments. “I tried to protect you, son, but I couldn’t. I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough.”
As Ziad’s father rushed him to the hospital, he realized his son was dying in the car. “Tell God how scared you were when the bombs fell, Ziad. Tell Him everything, my love. You used to talk about everything.”
These stories are just a fraction of the thousands of children whose lives have been stolen. These children are not numbers. They are stories, memories, and bright futures that Israel has erased. We will continue to say their names, share their stories, and never allow their humanity to be lost in the statistics.
This article is reprinted from the Quds News Network
CrossFireArabia
EDITOR’S NOTE: What follows is a tribute to Wafa Aludaini, a journalist who was killed together with her husband and two children by an Israeli military strike on her house in Deir Al Balah in central Gaza last week. She follows the stream of Palestinians journalists targeted and killed – 174 at the time of writing – by Israeli warplanes since the war on the Strip begun after 7 October 2023. The tribute is by Romana Rubeo, managing editor of the Palestinian Chronicle, who writes of how Wafa came to report for the chronicle and how the relationship between the two developed over the years.
On July 29, 2018, I received an email from a young journalist from Gaza, Wafa Aludaini, with the subject line: “I was looking at the sniper when he shot me – The story of an injured mother during the Great March of Return.”
It was the first time Wafa had reached out to us, but I was immediately struck by the power of her story, which she wanted to publish in the Palestine Chronicle.
Her approach to journalism was exactly what we were seeking – centering the voices of ordinary Palestinians, whose struggle and resilience reflected the collective resilience of the Palestinian people.
Her writing was a direct and raw narrative emanating from the heart of the Palestinian experience, told in the voice of the people, untainted by stereotypes or a lingering sense of victimization.
Wafa’s writing captured the essence of why we do what we do on a daily basis for years: amplifying Palestinian voices, and not any voices, but those that reflect the spirit of the Palestinian people, their defiance of injustice, their quest for freedom, and their courage in word and action.
Wafa seemed to exemplify all of this.
Of course, we published the story, and soon after, Wafa and I developed a deep connection, a friendship.
As I got to know her more, I discovered that Wafa was not just a storyteller – she was the story.
“I am a journalist,” she told us in an interview I conducted with her along with our chief editor, Ramzy Baroud, “but I am also a Palestinian refugee.” That identity was critical to her relationship to the Palestinian struggle.
Our bond grew over time, built on mutual respect, and shared insights into our professional and personal lives: our work, her children, and her weekly trips to the ‘frontline’ of the Great March of Return.
Every Friday, wearing her press vest – a symbol of protection from violence almost everywhere in the world, but not in Gaza – she would head to the fence that separates besieged Gaza from Israel. There, she found the stories of her people, and communicated them daily with poise and courage.
Wafa’s perspective as a woman was significant. Not only was she an empowered journalist, but she also empowered other women by giving them a platform to share their voices.
She was the founder of the October 16th group and dedicated her time to mentoring young media professionals in Gaza, especially emphasizing the importance of truth in reporting.
I, along with other editors of the Palestine Chronicle, had the privilege of working with her and her students and colleagues, where we conducted seminars for young women in Gaza. These women, inspired by Wafa, were determined to tell their own stories, in their own voice and language. Even when they spoke in weak English, somehow their narrative remained powerful.
One moment in particular stays with me. During the war in 2021, I invited Wafa to participate in an episode of an Italian podcast.
Amid the ongoing Israeli airstrikes, Wafa spoke live from Gaza. The roar of Israeli fighter jets was relentless, and though the audience couldn’t see her, they could hear her children huddled close to her.
She spoke calmly and firmly, her voice unwavering, exposing the reality of life under bombardment. Between pauses, she would turn to her children and quietly reassure them, saying, “Shhh, it’s just fireworks.”
Tragically, at dawn on Monday, September 30, those same children, two of Wafa’s beloved, were killed alongside her and her husband in an Israeli airstrike on Deir Al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip.
Wafa was more than a journalist; she was a symbol of resilience. As a woman, a mother, a journalist, and a voice for the Palestinian people, she embodied their struggle for justice and dignity.
At the Palestine Chronicle, we are forever grateful for the opportunity to work with someone as courageous and inspiring as Wafa.
We will continue to honor Wafa’s memory by upholding her commitment to truth and will strive to carry forward her legacy of empowering voices that deserve to be heard.
We also intend to carry on with her mission, of training young women in Gaza so that they, like Wafa, may tell the stories of their people, in their own voices.
It turned out that some angels don’t have wings. We will miss you, Wafa. I already do.
CrossFireArabia
This 10-year-old Palestinian girl, Rasha, left her will before she was killed in an Israeli airstrike that targeted their home in the Gaza Strip. Rasha bequeaths that her clothes be distributed to those in need and that her belongings be shared among her female cousins.
CrossFireArabia
Families fleeing violence in Lebanon are struggling to find safety in shelters across the country with at least one million people – a fifth of the population – now displaced with half leaving their homes in the past four days, Save the Children said.
Numbers are expected to swell following new relocation orders issued by Israeli forces on Tuesday, demanding residents in more than two dozen villages in the south of Lebanon to relocate north of the Awali River, approximately 50 km into the country.
The beginning of ground military operations has been widely reported by media as well as air attacks across Lebanon, including strikes on Ein El Helwe, the largest refugee camp in Lebanon, that reportedly killed seven people, including four children.
The speed of the crisis is placing immense pressure on hospitals, with over 37 Primary Health Care Centres forced to close due to safety concerns, while airstrikes have severely damaged 25 water facilities, leaving 300,000 people without access to clean water.
Over 154,000 displaced people are currently taking refuge in 851 active shelters, including public schools, with 70% of them already at full capacity, and only some equipped with proper showers, sanitation facilities, hot water and heating. Others are staying with host families, often in overcrowded conditions.
Since 23 September, Save the Children has distributed relief items to over 27,000 individuals, including 11,000 children, across 70 shelters, such as blankets, mattresses, hygiene kits, and bottled water. Distributions are ongoing in the North, Bekaa, West Bekaa, Rashaya, Mount Lebanon, Saida, Sour, and Beirut.
The rate of displacement is unprecedented. During the 2016 Lebanon-Israel conflict, a similar number of people were forcibly displaced – over 970,000 – over the course of one month.
According to media reports, about 60,000 Israelis have been displaced from their homes in northern Israel.
Almost 2,000 people have been killed by Israeli airstrikes in Lebanon, including 104 children, and over 8,000 have been injured, according to Lebanon’s Ministry of Health.
Ahmad*, 37, a father of daughters aged two years and seven months, spent a day on the road seeking safety and is now staying at a shelter in Mount Lebanon. He said:
“My wife and I are terrified about what might happen next. We’re scared for our daughters. What if something happens to them? And if something happens to us, what will become of them? Our 7-month-old cries constantly because she senses our fear; she can tell her mother is frightened, and now we’re passing that fear on to her and her two-year-old sister.”
“We need diapers and baby food, proper clothes, and basic necessities. We couldn’t bring anything with us, we barely managed to grab our children and ran for our lives.”
Abir* is a 35 -year-old mother of three children, aged 10, eight and five. Her family fled their village in the south after it was bombed and is now staying in a shelter supported by Save the Children in Mount Lebanon. She said:
“It breaks our hearts to have left our home, but we had to put our feelings aside for the sake of our children. Our village, which had never been targeted before, was bombed, and our children were already terrified by the sonic booms and fake raids.
I barely managed to pull myself together. We had prepared a bag, knowing for almost a year that we needed to be ready, but nothing could have prepared us for the carnage that erupted on 23 September. It took us a full day to travel from South Lebanon to Mount Lebanon, an exhausting journey with no final destination. At first, we had no idea where we were heading; all my husband knew was that we had to escape as quickly as possible. I worry about how my children will cope with all of this. I know the scars this experience will leave on them, and it weighs heavily on my heart.”
Jennifer Moorehead, Save the Children’s Country Director in Lebanon said:
“Children all over the country are affected by this escalating violence, their lives turned upside down almost overnight as they lose their home and sense of safety. There are families in shelters, but also so many still in their cars or in the streets of Beirut, looking for some place to go. The sense of terror is palpable. Our teams are saying that more than anything, families are paralysed by the fear of the unknown.
Children will be disproportionately affected by this armed conflict. As in all recent armed conflicts, children will number too many among casualties.
Schools are closed, shelters and hospitals in Lebanon are under growing pressure, and we are doing our best to support displaced families, but with the launch of ground military operations in southern Lebanon, we are now inevitably going to see even more large-scale forced displacement and destruction.
Children’s lives in Lebanon and in the whole region are hanging in the balance. We call for an immediate ceasefire to prevent further suffering, ensure safe humanitarian access, and stop the conflict from escalating further across the region.”
Save the Children has been working in Lebanon since 1953. Since October 2023, we’ve been scaling up our response in Lebanon, supporting displaced Lebanese, Syrian and Palestinian children and families, and now have escalated an emergency response throughout the country in 70 shelters. Since October 2023, we’ve supported 71,000 people, including 31,000 children, with cash, blankets, mattresses and pillows, food parcels, water bottles and kits containing essential hygiene items.
