Dispatch from Gaza September 1, 2025…

I am from this city, inside the walls of the Holocaust, and a witness to the crime.

I woke up at dawn to the sound of a helicopter hovering just above the tent, firing its machine guns brutally. I stepped out of the tent as my sister screamed at me, “Go back inside the tent, the helicopter is shooting.” I laughed and looked at her, without stating the obvious that the tent fabric cannot protect us from water, let alone bullets, but went back inside just to reassure her.

I stepped out of the tent door again, a few minutes later to see the sky blazing with Israeli fire. They were using the heavy weapons now. Explosions could be heard everywhere. The naval boats were shooting, artillery was pounding, fighter jets were bombing, and even the drones were firing their machine guns. They were burning everything. No one understood what was happening. The tremors wouldn’t stop—it was like being in a disco. Fire was blazing everywhere. The sound of explosions above us, many illuminating bombs, and the shooting never stopped. The armed men were running, rushing toward death. I also ran toward the sound of the gunfire…

Everyone here was looking at the sky, asking, “Has the Rafah Holocaust begun!?”

We are the witnesses of the crime. We are the ones who saw the fire, and we are the ones burned by it. No one reinforces our resilience. No one supports our struggle. No one eases anything for us. We are the news, so we hear nothing but the news.

On that day, we were displaced in Rafah.

On that day, the Israeli army freed two hostages in a special operation, and the fire coverage for the special force was like this.

At that time, we didn’t understand anything. More stories to follow…