The Occupation Killed My Husband and Left Me With Our Three Children

In 2014, I married the young man Muhammad Sami Al-Durra, and we were a small, happy Palestinian family. We had three children and lived very happily for the nine years preceding this war. However, the occupation bombed our house in the early days of the war on Gaza, forcing us to seek refuge in UNRWA schools. Then, the occupation killed my husband, leaving our three children without a father.

Since the first day of the war, my children have been living under difficult psychological conditions. We are displaced people living in an UNRWA school in the Nuseirat camp in the middle of the Gaza Strip. The occupation bombed the residential area in which we lived in the Bureij camp. We survived the bombing, but for six months, we have been living in distress, homeless and displaced.

My husband, Muhammad, worked as a day labourer in the Gaza Strip. Our financial situation was difficult, as is the case for the majority of Gaza’s residents, but he did his best to provide for our household’s needs and the needs of our children: Hamza, nine years old; Sami, seven years old; and our daughter, Wateen, who is two years old. Muhammad tried to provide for all their needs, but the Israeli war on Gaza was beyond his capabilities and made life for everyone very difficult.

In the first week of the war, the occupation destroyed our house, and we were displaced to the Nuseirat School affiliated with an UNRWA school in Nuseirat. We now live with eight families in one classroom, with only women and children sleeping inside. My husband, his father, and his brothers slept in the school yard. My children wished their father could sleep with us in the same place as we did before the war, but the circumstances prevented this simple request.

After we were displaced to the UNRWA school, my husband worked as a volunteer in the relief efforts and the securing of the school. He, along with many other young displaced people, stayed up all night guarding the school to protect it from theft. He also volunteered to unload aid in the school stores and distributed it to the displaced families.

Muhammad formed a special relationship with the school administration and the police personnel who helped guard the school. He loved life and was dedicated to providing for all our needs, especially those of our infant daughter, Wateen. I asked him not to leave the school, and to stay with us for fear of bombing, but he insisted on going out to search for work and food for us.

During the fifth month of the war, my husband went out to look for food for us. He wandered around the Nuseirat camp market and visited several aid distribution points. We receive one food basket every two weeks, which is not enough. We live in difficult conditions and have lost a lot of weight. My husband’s only concern was to provide food for our son, which made him risk his life to obtain some aid for us.

On the morning of the first Monday of April 2024, my husband went out in a city car belonging to the school security to bring food aid for the hundreds of displaced families at the school. Meters away from the school, Israeli occupation planes bombed the car, killing my husband and several others, including displaced people and policemen. Many more were injured in the attack.

My son Hamza saw his father in a dream, surrounded by people who were hugging him. This dream became a reality a few days later when my husband was transferred from Al-Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat camp to the school serving as a shelter where we live. My son bid farewell to his father, placing a final kiss on his face. Funeral prayers were performed at the school. We were unable to bury him in the Bureij camp cemetery due to nearby occupation forces, so we buried him in the Nuseirat camp cemetery.

The occupation deprived us of living in the Bureij camp, where we were born, grew up, and raised our family. It also deprived my husband of being buried in the camp cemetery. The war has been ongoing for more than seven months, and these have been the most difficult and cruel months of our lives. Gaza has endured many wars and attacks since the Israeli occupation in 1967, but this war is unparalleled in its cruelty, pain, death, injustice, hunger, and destruction.

I was married to a young man I loved deeply, and together we formed a beautiful family. I lived happily with him for more than nine years. Today, I find myself a widow, deprived of my husband, my support, and everything in my life. Muhammad was beautiful in all his qualities, loving everyone and always eager to help.

The occupation deprived my three children of their father. Muhammad left me with a great responsibility – to raise, care for, and support our three orphaned children. He dreamed of seeing his children complete their education and pursue careers that would provide them with a better future. Now, they are without a father and without support. The occupation shed Muhammad’s blood and left us to face life’s hardships alone.

I was strong during the first five months of the war because my husband, Muhammad, was with me, protecting us and providing for our needs. But now, we have lost this support, the one who cared for us and ensured our happiness. We have lost tenderness, security, happiness – everything. The occupation killed my husband Muhammad and created immense pain in our souls.

Every day, my children ask me about their father. They say, “Mama, why has Daddy been delayed in returning? Daddy took a long time and hasn’t returned yet.” I tell them that their father will return soon, that he went to bring us food, and that he is at work now and will come back with everything we want.

I don’t know what to tell my children. These days, I try not to expose them to more psychological trauma. The trauma they have experienced since the beginning of the war is enough. My eldest son, Hamza, knows that his father was martyred and bid him farewell at the school. But my son Sami, and my infant daughter Wateen, do not know that the occupation killed their father. I am trying to hide this from them until the war ends and stops completely.

Every day, I try to distract my children by playing in the school yard and encouraging them to participate in entertainment activities organized by youth teams. They play in the small remaining part of the school yard. Dozens of families have set up their tents in the yard, and the children can only play in the small part that remains open. Everything around us reminds us of displacement, war, killing, and the loss of loved ones.

My husband Muhammad dreamed of building or buying an apartment for us, as we lived in rented apartments for many years. But Muhammad passed away, killed by the occupation before this wish could be fulfilled. I hope to complete Muhammad’s mission, to provide an apartment for my children, and to educate them so their father will be proud of them in his grave. They are proud to be the children of the martyr Muhammad Sami Al-Durra, who was martyred refusing to emigrate from Gaza determined to remain in this land to give his children a decent life.

We live in difficult conditions in the displacement centres. We do not always have food or clean water. We suffer from a lack of water. My children have no clothes or shoes, and there is no security or safety in the school. Bombing surrounds us on all sides; the occupation bombed the school we were displaced to twice, and several displaced people were martyred inside. I always stay close to my children, not wanting the bombing to harm them. I want to live the rest of my life with my children and die with them. My youth and dreams are lost, but I will not lose my purpose – to raise my children and protect them from all dangers.

We urgently hope the war on Gaza will stop. Over more than seven months, we have been exposed to all forms of injustice and genocide. The war must stop. We must return to our homes. America and the international community must work sincerely to stop the war and urgently rebuild Gaza.