We had grown used to getting calls from the Israeli army warning us to leave our homes in Gaza. It was always a recorded message, saying: “People of this neighbourhood, you need to evacuate your neighbourhood and head to the south of Wadi area.”
But on 31st October 2023, around midday, we received a direct call from a private number on my husband’s phone.
“Hello, are you Salahaldin?”
“Yes I am,” my husband replied cautiously.
“We know who you are!” said the person on the other end. “Take your family and leave your home right now, otherwise your lives are in danger in the coming hours.”
My husband replied, “Since you know who and where we are, then you know that I can’t take my kids to the street under all these bombardments.”
“This is your problem, not ours! Deal with it!”
Then the line went dead.
My husband called the neighbours and asked if any had received a similar call. None had. It was less than a week since the family of another journalist, Wael Al Dahdouh, had been killed. The building was levelled while they were inside.
I called our bureau chief in Jerusalem so he could investigate.
Minutes later, I received a call from Doha, telling me that Walid, our bureau chief, had confirmed this was a direct threat and the army would level our building. “You need to leave now, Youmna! You need to leave!”
I hung up and looked at my husband and kids with shock.
Aline, my eldest, 12 years old at the time, looked like she was going to explode. Her eyes were red and filled with tears.
She raised her hands and held me fiercely and screamed, “They’re going to kill us because of you! They’re going to kill us all because of you!”
I realised that I had brought a threat to the most precious little lives in my world.
I ran to my room and locked myself inside. I couldn’t even cry. I looked in the mirror and asked: what are you going to do now?
I had no answer.
I went out to Aline and she ran to me and hugged me. “I’m sorry, Mummy,” she said. “I’m scared they will kill us and kill my little sisters.”
I hugged her back and said, “Don’t worry, we will be okay. Whatever is fated for us will happen when we’re together.”
That night, Cerine, my eight-year-old, said to us: “Squeeze next to each other, leave no spaces between us. That way when the missile falls, it kills us all at once and nobody remains alone!”
These were the most innocent and painful words I have ever heard. Her siblings listened to her instructions and lay together next to me. That night, the bombs were relentless.
♦♦♦
At dawn we could see the Israeli tanks and military vehicles in the streets. The bombing hadn’t stopped, but I was too tired to stay awake anymore. I felt completely numb, too exhausted to even feel terrified.
I crawled onto the mattresses and hugged my kids as they slept through the loud explosions. I smelled each one of them; I kissed their shut eyes and every bit of their little faces. I hugged them tight, the four of them at the same time.
I looked at them closely and noticed how they had grown so fast. I smiled and stared at them and touched their faces and played with their hair like I had all the time left in the world.
♦♦♦
About an hour later, our peace was interrupted by sniper bullets shot at the windows of our building.
My husband came running and shouted, “Stay away from the windows!” Everyone in the building was panicked and screaming.
The shooting stopped after about 15 minutes. Then a soldier outside told us we had five minutes to leave the building before they would start again.
We held our children and ran towards the door. Juju, my five-year-old, screamed, “Mummy, where’s Fluffy?”
Fluffy was her kitten. She had hidden somewhere because of the loud noises.
I tried to look for Fluffy quickly. Juju was calling for her as Salah carried her. “Let’s go—we have no time!” he shouted.
Juju screamed back, “No, we can’t leave Fluffy! They will kill her!” My other kids called out to Fluffy, but she didn’t come.
I told Salah to take the kids, and I would find Fluffy and follow them.
Aline screamed, “No! I can’t lose you, Mummy!” She hugged me so tight. “I don’t want to be a mummy for my sisters, please! I can’t lose you!”
I held her and promised her, “You won’t lose me, I swear! I’ll be right behind you!”
They went out of the door and into the elevator. I heard Fluffy moving under my office desk and I grabbed her.
That would be the last time we saw our building standing. I ran down to keep my promise to my little girl. You won’t lose me, I swear.
