Before I heard about Ismail’s death, my father called me and asked, “Farida, are you okay?” I told him, “Yes, Father, I’m fine.” He didn’t tell me anything specific. He just said, “Everything is okay, don’t worry, Farida. Take care,” and then he hung up.

Shortly after receiving this call from my father, I went to meet Hind Khoudary, a journalist for Al Jazeera, in Al-Aqsa Hospital. As I walked through the hospital, I overheard Hind’s voice, filled with sorrow, saying, “I cannot believe it. Ismail will not die — he will always be with us.” At that moment, I cried silently, unable to scream, trying to gather my strength.

Ismail Maher Khamis Al-Ghoul (January 14, 1997 – July 31, 2024) was a Palestinian journalist and Al Jazeera correspondent in Gaza. Israel assassinated him on the evening of July 31, 2024, along with his cameraman, Rami al-Rifi, in an Israeli airstrike that targeted them in Gaza City. This happened shortly after they covered the assassination of Ismail Haniyeh in Iran from Haniyeh’s destroyed home in the Gaza Strip.

Ismail had appeared in a live broadcast on Al Jazeera hours before his assassination. Despite responding to the Israeli threat of bombing the area where he was present by driving away, and despite his wearing a press vest, an Israeli drone deliberately chased the car he was traveling in with Rami and launched a guided missile at them, killing them both instantly.

Ismail is a relative of mine. The last time I saw him was a few weeks before the war, when we met at a press office where he reported for Al Jazeera. During our conversation, we discussed the dire economic situation in Gaza, including the extreme difficulty of obtaining food and moving around.

One tragic example he shared was the incident where dozens of young people were killed in their desperate struggle for flour. As Ismail reported on Al Jazeera, “The food we are trying to obtain has become soaked in blood.” (WANN has published two essays about this massacre, by Ahmed Dader and Ahmed Dremly).

In his poignant coverage, Ismail also conveyed the profound impact of the crisis: “Let me tell you, my friend, that I no longer know the taste of sleep. The bodies of children and the screams of the injured, with their blood-soaked images, never leave my sight. The cries of mothers and the wailing of men who are missing their loved ones never fade from my hearing.”

Ismail was married to Malak and they have a daughter named Zina, who is about 2 years old. I used to see Ismail more often than his wife because we frequently met at work locations, but I would see Malak during family gatherings. I saw Zina when she was born but due to the war I haven’t seen her since except in photos. Ismail occasionally posted about her on his social media accounts, sharing how she was spending her early years away from him and growing up without being able to see him. The family had lived together in the northern part of the Gaza Strip, but the war forced Zina and her mother to seek refuge in the center while Ismail remained in the north, dedicated to his work. Due to repeated and deliberate Israeli targeting of anyone moving between Gaza’s five districts, Ismail had not seen his daughter since the start of the war.

The prolonged instability that has severed connections between people and places experienced by Ismail’s family is felt by all Gazans, including my own. I was living with my family in northern Gaza when we received an evacuation order from Israeli soldiers via text message, instructing us to move to southern Gaza. The distance we had to cover was approximately 35 kilometers. My father stayed behind in the north, while I, along with my brother’s children and some other family members, including my grandfather, grandmother, aunt, and brother, walked this harrowing journey over several days. More displacements took us through several areas in the south — from Deir Al-Balah to Nuseirat, then to Khan Younis, and finally to Rafah.

Each relocation was fraught with danger; we fled from one perilous situation to another, and every home we left was subsequently bombed. This relentless search for safety was an exhausting ordeal that not only separated me from my immediate family but also from other relatives.

Ismail’s rise in journalism

Ismail obtained a bachelor’s degree in journalism from the Islamic University and began his career in print journalism as a correspondent for the local newspapers, Al-Risala and Palestine. He later moved into television journalism, working with several media production companies in Gaza. Ismail’s expertise in working with international media added a new dimension to my understanding of how to report events from Gaza to the world.

At the start of Operation Al-Aqsa Flood on October 7, 2023, Ismail signed a contract with Al Jazeera and worked for that agency during the ensuing Israeli–Palestinian war. Initially, he provided news updates via phone messages from Gaza, then he began preparing television reports, and eventually he appeared in live broadcasts from the heart of Gaza City and northern areas.

On the morning of March 18, 2024, Ismail was arrested by Israeli occupation forces along with dozens of others following the storming of the Al-Shifa Medical Complex in Gaza City. He was assaulted by Israeli soldiers at the time of his arrest and then taken to an unknown location. The Israeli forces released him the next day after 12 hours of interrogation and investigation.

Ismail continued to rise as a key correspondent for the Qatari channel, appearing on screen almost daily in live and exclusive coverage. Like other Gazans, Ismail suffered from the famine and severe water shortage that struck the north and central regions. Despite this, he continued to report even though he faced immense dangers and continuous threats from the Israeli occupation and could have fled or left the Gaza Strip through the Rafah Crossing.

A journalism mentor

Ismail’s death has left a profound void in my life and in my family. He was not only an icon of literature and thought but also my mentor who shaped my path in journalism. Ismail always encouraged the youth, urging us to push forward, no matter the cost. His words, “We are now the leaders of this generation, and we must continue no matter the cost,” still resonate with me.

Ismail was a persistent and supportive journalist, even in the most challenging circumstances. His guidance was invaluable to me, especially when I sought his advice on becoming a professional journalist. “Farida,” he would say, “a professional journalist must be honest. Just honest.” This simple yet powerful principle has guided my career, teaching me the vital role of journalism in giving a voice to the oppressed and revealing the truth.

Ismail’s dedication to his work was unwavering, even when it required great personal sacrifice. Despite the dangers, he chose to stay in the north, away from his wife and daughter, to continue reporting. From him, I learned the true meaning of commitment — putting the pursuit of truth above all else, even at the cost of great personal loss.