we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
A mother is plagued by the memory of the massacre that killed her family when they were at home together, ready to sit down to lunch.
The three sisters Rama, Rawa’a, and Hidaya. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
With heart-wrenching pain, Taghreed Al-Dayah, 54, tells the story of how she lost all of her family members, except for one son, in an Israeli bombing that targeted their home in Gaza City last summer.
Like thousands of families in the Gaza Strip, her family experienced all forms of suffering. Together, they went through displacement, lacked the most basic services, starved, lost a loved one without knowing his fate, and endured the random killing of another who was out seeking food.
But then Targhreed had to live through a horrific massacre on her own.
In the Al-Sabra neighborhood in Gaza City on July 3, 2024, Taghreed was preparing lunch for her family of eight members.
“I was preparing lunch when I suddenly felt something tugging at my heart,” she said. “I didn’t understand what caused this feeling until suddenly the house shook, its walls and all its contents scattered, and all sound around me disappeared.”
Moments later, Taghreed found herself lying near the stairs of her apartment, which was located on the fifth floor of a residential building that housed all of her husband’s family. She called out to her children and husband, but no one responded.
Ambulance and civil defense crews came quickly to transport the casualties, but it turned out that only Taghreed survived.
Her husband, Kamal Banat, 56, an employee at the university college and volunteer in the civil defense, was killed. So were Taghreed’s four daughters: Raghad, 28 an engineer; Hidaya, 27, also an engineer; Rama, 23, a nursing student; and Rawa’a, 18, a student. Her youngest son, Abdul Salam, 17, was also killed.
The youngest son, Abdul Salam. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
Her son Suhaib, 25, left the house by chance ten minutes before the bombing, and so survived.
Taghreed suffered burns in her back and chest, but she remained fully conscious.
“The only person I saw was my daughter Raghad. She was a body without a head. All of their bodies flew from the fifth floor to the street, while my daughter Hidaya was lost and wasn’t found until the next day. The explosion dropped her body to a neighbor’s house with her cat, which she loved very much.”
The oldest daughter, Raghad. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
The family members were all buried in a temporary cemetery near their house, because it was not possible to bury in an actual cemetery, due to the intensification of the Israeli bombing on several areas. Taghreed couldn’t give them a last goodbye.
Taghreed ost other loved ones before. Ahmed Banat, the 27-year-old son of her husband’s brother, went missing in the third week of the war. His family has been forced to declare his death, because there was no name for him among those detained by Israel, but they have not found his body.
Ahmed Banat, a nephew. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
Bilal Alessi, a 28-year-old son-in-law of another of her husband’s brothers, was killed after trying to obtain flour for his family during the famine.
Bilal Alessi. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
The most difficult thing for Taghreed has been the absence of her husband’s family to mourn with her, since they had all been displaced to the south at the beginning of the war. Her family lives in Jordan, so she doesn’t have anyone from her own side nearby to comfort her in her affliction.
“My whole life collapsed in front of me in moments,” she says. “All my children and my husband were gone in one minute by an Israeli missile.
“Despite this loss, I try to be strong for my son Suhaib, who sometimes goes to their graves and cries alone.
“But not a moment goes by without remembering them all. They all had dreams, memories, and lives full of achievement.”
In addition to being a brilliant engineer, Raghad was a skilled cook and loved drawing and reading, while interior designer Hedaya loved animals and took care of them to the point that her cat and birds who were killed in the bombing were buried with her.
Rama suffered from a difficult childhood due to cancer, and her parents were afraid of losing her, but she recovered and became a pioneer in reading and won several awards. She was in her last year of nursing school when she was killed.
Rawa’a — the “fruit of the house,” as Taghreed liked to call her — was a mass of activity and vitality with a loud voice, and the house would become boring without her presence. Because of her intense love for reading, during the war she used to buy books from a stall operated by a bookstore owner.
Abdul Salam was the obedient, quiet son who didn’t make anyone angry. He was a favorite of his grandfather and diligent in his studies.
As for Kamal, Taghreed says that he was not only her husband but also her friend who eased her distance from her family since their marriage. He treated her with compassion and love.
“He was a distinguished person, as everyone testifies. He was calm and had a sweet voice. He was affectionate with his family and devoted to his parents.”
Taghreed’s husband. Kamal Banat. Photo provided by Taghreed Al-Dayah
The story of Taghreed’s pain is similar to the stories of thousands of Palestinians. According to the Health Ministry in Gaza, 2,092 families have been wholly wiped out by Israel’s war. Another 4,889 families have lost all but one family member; the number of martyrs from these families exceeded 8,980.
The war has ended, but for surviving family members, the sense of loss will never end. They are trying to start new lives, but they carry forward bitter memories caused by the Israeli bombing.
