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When one hurts or kills a women
one hurts or kills hummanity and is an antrocitie.
Gino d'Artali
and: My mother (1931-1997) always said to me <Mi
figlio, non esistono notizie <vecchie> perche puoi imparare qualcosa da
qualsiasi notizia.> Translated: <My son, there is no such thing as so
called 'old' news because you can learn something from any news.>
Gianna d'Artali.
2 Stories
Al Jazeera - Dec 31 2024 - By Simon Speakman Cordall and Maram Humaid
<<Gaza's 2024: A year of war and misery
Al Jazeera takes a closer look at events in Gaza over 2024, as Israel
continued and escalated its brutal war. Palestinians in Gaza are
entering the new year as defenceless and beleaguered as the last.
Israel's war on the enclave continued into 2024, killing 23,842 people
and wounding 51,925 during this year alone, driving the grisly official
death toll to 46,376, according to the Gaza Health Ministry. Israel has
used siege and starve tactics, as well as scorched earth bombardment,
drawing accusations that it is committing genocide, from rights groups
and United Nations legal bodies.
All documented Israel's systematic targeting of hospitals, displacement
shelters, aid workers, journalists and so-called safe zones, which are
often anything but. In northern Gaza, the Israeli army has imposed a
full and suffocating siege in an attempt to starve fighters and push out
civilians, in what has been called <ethnic cleansing>. These tactics
violate international law and are creating the conditions to kill a
people <in whole or in part>, matching the definition of genocide in the
UN's Genocide Convention, rights groups say. "This last year has been
very dark for us. How can I describe it in any other way? It’s been more
than torturous," said Eman Shaghnoubi, 52, from Deir el-Balah in Gaza.
"We have moved from one humiliation to another," she added, remarking on
the perpetual displacement of Palestinians in the enclave.
Within Gaza
Israel has rendered 34 hospitals in Gaza "nonfunctional" and forced 80
health centres to shut down entirely, according to the Gaza Government
Media Office. In the last few days, Israeli forces stormed the only
remaining major hospital in Gaza's devastated north, ejecting staff and
patients before setting the medical facility on fire. Torrential rain is
currently lashing the tent villages that stand in place of many of
Gaza's towns and cities, with deaths from hypothermia rising as freezing
temperatures continue to flatline. Shaghnoubi, who has six boys and two
girls, said that her children are struggling to survive in the cold and
that her small tent does not protect the family from the pouring rain.
"My children sleep on soaked bedding at night," she told Al Jazeera.
Shereen Abu Nida, 40, also said that she and her four children are
coping with hardship due to the terrible living conditions brought on by
the war. Worse still, her husband was abducted by Israeli forces about a
year ago, leaving her to care for her children alone. "I have had to go
through this whole year alone, all by myself," she said, her voice
quivering. Musa Ali Muhammad al-Maghribi, 52, added that his family have
little hope for the future. He said his nine children are ill and he
cannot find medication, nor is there enough food or clean water for his
family, an ordeal that most of Gaza’s 2.3 million people face. "[Israel]
has destroyed us," he told Al Jazeera. "Every day, we just hope to die."
Netanyahu extends the fight
Despite the extreme hardship, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu
is showing no sign of halting the onslaught. Efforts at mediating some
form of ceasefire, which have been continuing throughout much of the
conflict, have floundered in the face of what many, including United
States President Joe Biden in June, have slammed as political
self-interest on the part of the Israeli prime minister. Accusations of
exploiting the war on Gaza for personal gain have centred upon
Netanyahu's attempts to deflect from his ongoing trial on charges of
bribery, fraud and breach of public trust, which he denies. In addition,
the prime minister’s corruption trial suggests that Netanyahu is seeking
to prolong the war to distract from accusations of negligence or
incompetence during the Hamas-led attack of October 7 2023, which killed
1,139 Israelis. Charges of opportunism have come from both within
Netanyahu's right-wing cabinet, as well as the street, where tens of
thousands of people continue to rally in support of a deal that would
see the captives taken during the Hamas-led attack released.
International impotence
The international community has failed to halt - or mitigate - the
carnage in Gaza largely due to the US's unqualified political and
military support for Israel's war on the enclave. In addition to the
more than $20bn in aid provided to Israel since the war began, the US
has torpedoed diplomatic efforts within the UN to end the war, including
suppressing recent reports of the potential famine under way in northern
Gaza. In January, the International Court of Justice ordered Israel to
do all it could to prevent any act that could be considered genocide.
Despite this, rights organisations based in Palestine and
internationally, including Amnesty, have concluded that Israel has
actively embarked upon a campaign of genocide within the Strip. Similar
international action has also been taken against both the Hamas and
Israeli leadership. In November, the International Criminal Court (ICC)
issued arrest warrants for Netanyahu and former Defence Minister Yoav
Gallant, as well as Hamas leader Mohammed Deif. Israel claims to have
killed Deif in July. Netanyahu and Gallant remain wanted for war crimes
and crimes against humanity. In October, Israel defied international
pressure and voted to ban the UN’s Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA),
widely acknowledged as one of Gaza's principal lifelines. When the ban
comes into effect in late January next year, Gaza will lose its
principal aid agency and with it, much of the network that distributes
food, medicine and the infrastructure needed to sustain life. In
December, the UN General Assembly voted overwhelmingly for UNRWA's work
to continue and, for the third time, that a ceasefire be immediately
reached. Despite this, Israeli strikes on Gaza have continued and the
agency's future remains uncertain.
Palestinians in Gaza such as Abu Nida just hope the war will end soon
this coming year.
"This has been the worst year of my life," said Abu Nida.
"Nobody in the world has lived through the days that we are living
through," she said.>>
SOURCE: AL JAZEERA:
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/12/31/gazas-2024-a-year-of-war-and-misery
And
Surviving 2024 in Gaza
Al Jazeera - Dec 31, 2024 - by Hassan Abo Qamar - Gaza-based writer
<<Surviving 2024 in Gaza
This year, I survived genocide. It burned my soul, but it also planted a
seed of hope.
When I was a child, I dreamed of travelling the world, exploring new
cultures and learning new things. I yearned for a journey of discovery.
Living in Gaza felt like sitting in the stands, watching the world's
achievements - its development, progress and technological marvels -
unfold from afar without being able to participate. It was both a
sanctuary and a cage - its regular rhythm comforting yet repetitive, its
streets too familiar, its horizons too narrow for the aspirations I
carried within me. I cherished its warmth and closeness, but the pull of
life beyond its borders was irresistible. I was ready to leave the
moment an opportunity came my way. This year, I did embark on a journey,
but not the one that I had dreamed of. Instead of a trip of carefree
exploration abroad, I found myself on a journey navigating a genocidal
war and a struggle for survival within the narrow strip of Palestinian
land I call home. Along the way, I learned a lot - about myself and my
inner world. The "journey" began in January. While most people welcomed
the new year under skies filled with fireworks, songs and joy, my sky
delivered evacuation orders. Crumpled papers fell on us carrying a
message written in Arabic: <Nuseirat camp is too dangerous. Move south
for your safety.> I never thought leaving home would be that difficult.
I had always thought of myself as someone who did not have a strong
connection to home or homeland. But I was wrong. Leaving felt like
abandoning a part of my soul. My family and I made our way to Rafah to
stay with my aunt who gave us a warm welcome. Even though I felt some
comfort there, in my mind, all I could think about was my home. So I
greeted February, the "month of love", feeling incredibly homesick and
realising just how much I loved the house I had grown up in. In
mid-February, the Israeli military withdrew from Nuseirat, and we
hurried back home. It was one of the best moments of the war - and of my
entire life - to find my home still intact. Its front door was broken,
our belongings were stolen and rubble from the bombing of our
neighbour's home had crashed inside. But it was still standing. Although
destruction surrounded us, the rubble of our neighbourhood still felt
warmer than any safe place elsewhere in the world would have. For the
first time in my life, I - the grandson of refugees - felt I belonged
somewhere. My soul, my identity - they all belonged here. The joy of
being back home was soon overshadowed by the reality of war. March came
and brought in the holy month. For Muslims, Ramadan is a time of
spiritual peace, prayer and togetherness. But this year, it was filled
with loss, separation and deprivation. There were no shared meals or
family gatherings, no mosques to pray in - only their rubble. Instead of
tranquillity, we experienced relentless bombardment and terror. The
bombs fell without warning, each explosion shattering any sense of
safety we may have had. We were being punished, treated as "human
animals" - as their defence minister had said - for an unknown crime. In
April, Eid al-Fitr came and went, stripped of the joy that defines this
cherished Muslim holiday. There was no children's laughter to wake us in
the morning, no bustling preparations or decorations to welcome guests.
Death was the only visitor in Palestinian homes in Gaza. Then May rolled
in and with it an opportunity I had been waiting for my whole life. My
family managed to gather enough money to pay an Egyptian company to help
me leave Gaza. The process was riddled with uncertainty. There were
rumours of scams, bribes and rejections. The thought of escaping the
relentless horror around me was intoxicating. I wanted freedom, but it
came at a cost. I was to leave my whole family behind and my home with
an uncertain prospect of ever coming back. To outsiders, this might seem
like a simple choice: follow your dreams, take the chance and leave! But
for me, it was anything but easy. One late afternoon, I was sitting with
my sister Aya on our rooftop under a sky filled with spy planes when I
came to realise the true weight of my decision. Aya, just 15 years old,
was full of energy and hope, her light brown eyes shining with ambition.
"I want to learn programming like you," she said with excitement. "I
want to start my own business like you. I want to improve my English
like you." How could I leave her and my family in the midst of war? Did
I deserve a better life while Aya stayed behind, struggling to eat, to
sleep, to dream? How could I live a life elsewhere, knowing my sister
faced nightmares alone? How could I abandon the very land that had made
me who I am? In that moment, I realised my soul would never be free if I
abandoned Gaza now, if I dismissed it as a place of rubble and ruin. I
realised my identity was tied to this place, this struggle. When I first
told my family that I wanted to stay, they refused to accept it. They
insisted I leave to survive, fearing for my safety. After a long back
and forth, they eventually respected my decision, but their fear never
fully went away. A few days later, the Israeli army occupied the Rafah
crossing, cutting off access to the outside world. I did not regret my
decision. As the Israeli army continued to attack civilian areas all
over Gaza, displacing hundreds of thousands of people, it was our turn
to host relatives. We welcomed them not as displaced people but as our
family. It is our duty to share and stand with each other in times of
need. By the fall, we were 30 people in our house. Over the summer, we
began to feel the growing impact of restrictions not only on
humanitarian aid but on all paid goods. Basic food items disappeared
from markets. Aid organisations struggled to distribute food. It was
increasingly clear that those who survive the bombings would face a
different, slower death through starvation. Food rationing became so
severe that survival turned into a cruel competition. Life felt more
like a jungle where only the strongest could survive.
In the fall, hunger was made worse by the rain and wind. We saw people
forced to live in tents overcome by misery. In November, a family
tragedy struck. My eight-year-old cousin Ahmad, who was like a little
brother to me, fell from the third floor of our building and suffered a
brain haemorrhage. The thought of losing him was overwhelming. We rushed
him to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, which was overcrowded with the wounded
from air strikes and lacked the necessary equipment to perform brain
scans. We tried to go to two nearby hospitals, only to be told they too
could not do anything for him. By nightfall, we managed to find a
medical centre that could help him, but it was far away. Sending him in
an ambulance after dark was a huge risk - the vehicle could be targeted
by a drone like so many had been. It was a choice between two deaths. We
decided to hang onto hope and sent Ahmad in the ambulance. Even in the
darkest of days, miracles happen. Ahmad arrived safely, underwent the
necessary surgery and survived. He began to recover although he still
needs physical therapy that he cannot receive in Gaza. As we worried and
cared for Ahmad, December came. Soon we heard unexpected news from
Syria: The brutal regime there had collapsed. I felt extremely happy. In
Gaza, we have stood in solidarity with the Syrian people for a long
time. We know the suffering of war and oppression, and we were genuinely
happy to see the Syrian people finally free. Their liberation was the
first time we witnessed justice prevail, which gave us a sense of hope.
It reminded us that one day, we too might experience that kind of
relief, in a liberated homeland where we are no longer afraid for our
lives. As the year drew to a close, we followed carefully the news about
ceasefire talks, but 2024 is now ending without a moment of relief for
us Palestinians. This yearlong journey has left its mark on me: streaks
of white in my black hair, a frail body, ill-fitting clothes, dark
shadows beneath my eyes and a tired gaze that has lost its shine. But it
is not just my physical appearance that has changed. This year has
burned through my soul like wildfire. But even ashes carry seeds. I feel
that something new has emerged within me - a determination to stay
behind, to persevere, to change, to withstand all attempts to erase my
memories, my identity, my people. The death and destruction have been
overwhelming, but they have not managed to bring me down. If anything, I
feel a deep desire to live – for many more years - in Gaza, in
Palestine. I feel we owe a duty to the martyrs to resist, to stay on
this land, to rebuild and to live. The responsibility of restoring our
country rests on our shoulders. I am no longer the man I once was, full
of dreams of leaving Gaza and living an easy life far away. I will
remain in my homeland, and I will continue to hold onto the belief that
peace, no matter how fragile, can someday return to Gaza. I will
continue to dream of a Palestine where its people can finally be free.
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not
necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial stance.>>
Source:
https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2024/12/31/surviving-2024-in-gaza
|
Gino d'Artali |
Women's
Liberation Front 2019/cryfreedom.net 2025