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March 20 - 17, 2025
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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.
Al Jazeera - March 26, 2025 - By Mohamed A. Hussein and Mohammed Haddad
<<Gaza's stolen childhood
Who were the thousands of children Israel killed?
Israel kills a child in Gaza every 45 minutes.
That is an average of 30 children killed every day over the past 535
days.
Since October 7, 2023, Israel has killed at least 17,400 children,
including 15,600 who have been identified. Many more remain buried under
the rubble, most presumed dead. Many of the surviving children have
endured the trauma of multiple wars, and all of them have spent their
lives under the oppressive shadow of an Israeli blockade, affecting
every aspect of their existence from birth.
What is left of Gaza’s children?
About half of Gaza’s 2.3 million residents are children.
Over the past 17 months, Israeli attacks have left their homes in ruins,
destroyed their schools, and overwhelmed their healthcare facilities.
To put this in perspective, if you had a room of 100 children:
2 have been killed
2 are missing, presumed dead
3 have been wounded, many critically
5 have been orphaned or separated from their parents
5 require treatment for acute malnutrition
The rest of the children bear the invisible scars of war, trauma that
affects their mental health, safety and future.
Among the documented children killed, there were -
at least 825 babies, not yet old enough to celebrate their first
birthday
895 one-year-olds, killed before they could take their first steps
3,266 who died as preschoolers aged two to five, deprived of play,
discovery and the simple wonders of growing up
4,032 who died aged six to 10, leaving behind empty classrooms and
school uniforms that were hardly worn
3,646 who died aged 11 to 14, middle schoolers who had lived through
three wars (2012, 2014, 2021), but were killed in the fourth
and 2,949 who were 15 to 17, at the age when they were preparing to step
into the world, leaving behind dreams of independence and futures never
realised; the 17-year-olds lived through four wars (2008-09, 2012, 2014,
2021), and were killed in the fifth
8,899 who were sons and 6,714 were daughters
On March 18, Israeli forces launched 100 simultaneous strikes across the
Gaza Strip, shattering a two-month-old ceasefire with Hamas. Over the
next 36 hours, 436 people were killed, including at least 183 children,
94 women, 34 elderly people, and 125 men.
Mohammed
Among the children killed was one-year-old Mohammed Abu Hilal, who died
along with his seven-month-pregnant mother, Afnan, in an Israeli air
attack on the al-Mawasi camp - a location Israel had claimed was a “safe
zone”. His father Alaa had sent them there in the hope of keeping them
safe. “Oh, my dear son, go up to heaven, you’re going to find all your
toys up there,” the heartbroken father cried as he held his son’s
lifeless body.
Mohammed was among 895 one-year-olds - and 935 children named Mohammed -
killed by Israeli attacks.
Reem
Reem was just three years old when she was killed, alongside her
five-year-old brother Tarek, in an Israeli air attack on their family
home in the Nuseirat refugee camp in November 2023. Following her death,
a video of her grandfather, Khaled Nabhan, cradling her lifeless body
and calling her "Soul of my soul" spread widely, symbolising the immense
suffering endured by Gaza's population. Khaled cherished his beloved
granddaughter and recalled sadly how she would greet him with a hug
every day. On December 16, 2024, Khaled, who dedicated his time to
helping those in need, was also killed by an Israeli strike.
4,032 leaving empty classrooms
Hind
Hind Rajab, five, was a bright, kind-hearted child full of life and
curiosity, her family and neighbours said. On January 29, 2024, Hind
found herself the only survivor in a blood-soaked car filled with the
bodies of her family. They had been targeted by an Israeli tank as they
tried to flee Israeli bombardment on Tal al-Hawa neighbourhood. Hind was
left alone but managed to call the Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS).
In her final moments, she pleaded for help over the phone, her terrified
cries echoing across the world. "I’m so scared, please come. Please send
someone to take me," she repeated during a harrowing three-hour
conversation with emergency services that Israel was blocking from
reaching her. Her body was discovered 12 days later alongside those of
her family and the medics who had attempted to save her. The Hind Rajab
Foundation continues to honour her memory and seek justice for her and
others affected by Israel’s war on Gaza.
3,646 killed before they could grow up
On October 19, 2023, an Israeli air strike struck Gaza’s oldest church,
Saint Porphyrius, killing at least 18 people.
Suhaii-Julie-Majid
Among those killed were siblings, Suhail Ramez al-Souri (14), Julie
Ramez al-Souri (12) and Majd Ramez al-Souri (10).
Their heartbroken father recounted the devastating moment his children
were killed while seeking refuge inside the church. “We thought this was
our safe haven,” he said through tears, "Our last refuge, in the house
of God." “They bombed my angels without warning. They killed our
children, the children of cousins, relatives,” the grieving father
added.
2,949 futures never realised
Mahmoud
Mahmoud wanted to be a journalist, just like his father. Determined to
share the stories of his homeland with the world, the 15-year-old, known
as “young Wael”, together with his sister Khuloud, started recording
videos documenting the effects of Israel's escalating violence on Gaza.
“In Gaza, there is no place safe ... this is the [fiercest] and most
violent war we have lived [through] in Gaza. Help us to stay alive,” the
young Dahdouh duo pleaded. On the night of October 25, 2023, Mahmoud was
killed, along with his mother, seven-year-old sister Sham,
one-and-a-half-year-old nephew Adam and 21 others, in an Israeli air
raid on the Nuseirat camp where the family had sought shelter after
being told by the Israeli army to move south for their safety.
The stories of children like Mohammed, Reem, Hind, the al-Souri
siblings, and Mahmoud reflect the countless childhoods stolen in Gaza,
leaving behind memories of innocence and futures that will never be
realised.
SOURCE: AL JAZEERA>>
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/longform/2025/3/26/gazas-stolen-childhood-the-thousands-of-children-israel-killed
and
Genocide continues, and ‘we remain numbers’
Al Jazeera - March 26, 2025 - By Hassan Abo Qamar - Gaza-based writer
<<Israel’s genocide continues, and ‘we remain numbers’
The world’s indifference to Palestinian suffering allows Israel to
destroy us and our homeland with impunity.
After months of genocide, a ceasefire – even one that allowed them to
continue depriving Palestinians in Gaza of their most basic rights to
food, water, medical care, education and freedom of movement – proved
too much for the Israeli forces. So they decided to continue their war
on Gaza.
Israel casually abandoned the ceasefire agreement and restarted its
deadly war that had already destroyed Gaza and killed tens of thousands,
because it knew the global community would not do anything to stop it.
After all, the world has been largely indifferent to Israel’s many other
ceasefire violations and massacres of Palestinians since 1948. Israel
has been violating international law without any meaningful consequences
since its very inception. Israel did not break this latest ceasefire
agreement because it believed the Palestinian side violated it first. It
did not break the agreement to try and retrieve its remaining prisoners
either (this, after all, was going to happen if it adhered to the
agreement). Israel broke the ceasefire to prevent the reconstruction of
Gaza. It restarted the war to stop Palestinians from attempting to
rebuild even a small part of their destroyed homeland – to make sure no
Palestinian in Gaza has any hope for the future. The end of the
temporary ceasefire marked the beginning of yet another period of
displacement, loss and fear for the long-suffering people of Gaza. On
the first night of the renewed war, Israel bombed all parts of the Gaza
Strip just before dawn. More than 400 civilians, who were preparing food
for Sahoor in their cold tents when the bombs began raining on them,
lost their lives in the most horrific ways and passed on to another
world where they would be free of Israel’s abuse and cruelty. Many of
the dead were children, who died hungry, scared, cold. The massacre,
undoubtedly committed with full approval from the Americans, also
wounded hundreds of others, filling up Gaza’s few remaining hospitals.
Since that night, the bombs, the threats, the killing did not stop.
Amid the renewed genocide, a persistent sound echoes – hollow slogans,
devoid of any humanity, are being repeated by people around the world
who want to soothe their conscience towards Gaza. The tragedy and the
suffering of Gaza’s exhausted people have been reduced in their mouths
and minds to an empty celebration of their “legendary steadfastness”.
People of Gaza are being stripped of their humanity and portrayed as
heroes who neither grieve nor tire. The slogans echoing across the world
are doing nothing to stop the suffering in Gaza. On the contrary, they
are making it harder for Palestinians to express themselves – to voice
their fear, their love, and their dreams of a dignified life free from
war and loss, free from waking up to the sound of missiles. The world
expects nothing of them but to die in silence as heroes. After Israel
restarted its genocide, governments and institutions have done nothing
to feed a hungry child or protect a family from the occupation’s
missiles. They only issued empty statements – they “condemned” and they
“denounced”. But did nothing that would make a difference. Palestinians
knew the world’s response would not go beyond words, and that these
words – however true – would not achieve anything. Since the very
beginning of their oppression, they have seen over and over again how
such statements, condemnations, human rights reports, and even court
rulings do nothing to ease their suffering. By now, they know well the
world would not take any real action to help them. They know the
international community is deaf even to the sound of its own conscience
when it comes to Palestine. For years, we Palestinians have fought not
only for our survival but to reclaim our humanity in the eyes of the
world. We have spoken up through protests, art, cinema, and journalism –
desperate to break through the global indifference that reduces us to
news segments and statistics on media platforms. Initiatives like We Are
Not Numbers – which I have been part of – were created as a response to
this dehumanisation. We have told our stories to remind the world that
we are not just breaking news items or casualty reports, but human
beings with names, histories, emotions, and most importantly, dreams. We
have written about the friends we have lost, our homes that have been
reduced to rubble, the injustice inflicted upon our people, and our
lives that have been forever altered by Israel’s occupation and abuse –
hoping that, by sharing our truths, we could force the world to see us.
But despite all this, Palestinians remain numbers. When a family is
wiped out in an air strike, the headlines count the dead, but they do
not name them. They do not say who they were – the child who loved to
play football with his friends, the teenager who dreamed of getting a
high GPA to make his family proud, the mother who held her children
close in the final moments. And yet, when Israel claims to have targeted
a “high-profile militant” the world’s attention instantly shifts – not
to the dozens of innocent civilians killed in the strike, but to the
so-called success or failure of the assassination. The world mourns in
abstraction, detached from the lives lost. And so, the killing
continues. Even after months of documented war crimes, after initiatives
like We Are Not Numbers, after all the condemnation and denunciation,
there are still hungry children in Gaza who cannot sleep because of the
pain of an empty stomach and the fear of bombs falling near their
makeshift tent. This means that our world has failed. That all the
institutions we built to protect justice have fallen, and all our
constitutions have lost their meaning. It means there is no
international law or human rights. It means all our “good” armies,
supposedly put together to protect the innocent, are powerless. All the
world’s protections, safety nets, promises and guarantees appear to have
collapsed under the weight of Israel’s colonial impunity.
But why? What exactly are the nations afraid of? America’s weapons?
Israel’s wrath?
Why are they sacrificing all this to accommodate Israel’s desire for
destruction and domination?
I do not understand why the world asks Gaza’s children to be brave in
the face of death, patient in the face of loss, and resilient in the
face of hunger. Why should a starving child be expected to show more
strength than the leaders of what is called the “free world”? Silence is
not just complicity; it is consent. And so, the bombs keep falling, and
the Palestinians remain what the world has allowed them to become:
numbers. Death continues to visit their homes, and somewhere under the
rubble, a child wonders what sin they committed to be born into this
world.
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/2025/3/26/israels-genocide-continues-and-we-remain-numbers
and
Sidi Shayban’s Ramadan iftars challenge Israeli restrictions
Al Jazeera - March 24, 2025 - By Aseel Mfarjeh and Al Jazeera Staff
<<Sidi Shayban’s Ramadan iftars challenge Israeli restrictions in West
Bank
From displaced Gaza families to the poor, a Palestinian initiative
ensures no one is excluded from meals and compassion.
El-Bireh, occupied West Bank – In a modest Ramallah hotel, nearly 100
displaced Palestinians from Gaza, most receiving medical treatment, wait
silently for iftar. They sit on plastic chairs around long tables,
bathed in the golden light of sunset. They carry stories of loss. Some
lean on crutches, missing limbs. Parents watch over sick children,
exhaustion etched into their faces. Ahmed Abu al-Am and his volunteers
move quickly, distributing meals. A handful of volunteers offloaded
trays and boxes of food from two vehicles which had just arrived from
the kitchen, some 15 minutes away.
Abu al-Am has run the Sidi Shayban communal kitchen since 2002, serving
iftar every Ramadan. As he passes meals around the hotel, he worries
there is not enough food. “We do what we can,” he says. “But every donor
has their own priorities. We can only distribute what we’re given.”
Among the displaced is Haya Nahal, 36, who arrived in Ramallah with her
daughter, Raghd, two months before the war. Raghd, 11, has a
neurological disorder, and Haya had to leave her husband and son behind
to visit Ramallah for Raghd’s treatment. “I haven’t been able to return
since,” she says, her voice heavy with longing. “No matter how difficult
life is at home, nothing replaces belonging. We have shelter here, and
kind-hearted people help, but it’s not home.” Beside her sits Laila, an
elderly woman from Gaza. She arrived in occupied East Jerusalem’s
Augusta Victoria Hospital with her granddaughter, Amira, who had cancer.
“We arrived six months before the war,” Laila recounts. “None of Amira’s
immediate family was allowed to accompany her, so I came instead.” On
November 13, Amira died at age nine. Laila remains stranded, unable to
return home. She clutches a white handkerchief. “I’ve been here nearly
two years. I miss Gaza.” As iftar begins, the room quietens down and
people take their first bites, whispering prayers of gratitude. Abu
al-Am and his team look on, ensuring everyone is served. They are always
the last to break their fast.
Back in the kitchen
Across the living room and the balcony of his apartment in el-Bireh, Abu
al-Am, 43, moves swiftly between bubbling pots. The space no longer
resembles a home – sofas and carpets have long been replaced by
heavy-duty stoves, their wood-fuelled flames licking the bases of
massive cauldrons. As Abu al-Am lifts each lid, clouds of spiced steam
rise, filling the air with the scent of slow-cooked meat, onions, and
fragrant rice. The aroma drifts into the street, drawing in curious
passers-by.
Bireh, Ramallah table of mercy, Ramadan
In the makeshift kitchen, volunteers stir, chop, and season with
practised efficiency. The food is coming along, and there is still time
before Maghrib, when the sunset call to prayer will signal the end of
the daily fast. Soon, the first visitors will trickle in – some to sit
and eat, others to collect meals to take home. Today’s menu is qudra, a
Palestinian dish of fragrant rice cooked with chickpeas, garlic, and
slow-cooked lamb. The meal simmers over a massive wood-fired oven, while
a separate gas oven roasts trays of chicken for variety. Nearby, long
tables are lined with containers, ready to be filled and distributed.
For Abu al-Am, this routine is second nature. “The idea for the kitchen
came during the second Intifada,” Abu al-Am explains, squeezing a
chickpea to test if it’s cooked. “The Israeli siege on the West Bank
left many families struggling, and we had to do something to help.”
The initiative has grown since the second Intifada ended in the
mid-2000s and adapted to the community’s needs. It was not until 2015,
when it gained traction on social media, that the kitchen took its
current name – a tribute to the historic neighbourhood where a revered
wali, or saint, who is believed to have journeyed from the Maghreb,
fought alongside Saladin against the Crusades and was ultimately laid to
rest here. Since then, pandemics, occupation, and economic hardships
have come and gone. Some years, volunteers hosted iftars as far as East
Jerusalem and Gaza; in others, they focused on distributing takeaway
meals. Public iftars, known as “tables of mercy“, are a centuries-old
tradition observed in Ramadan across the Muslim world. They bring
communities together, fostering generosity and solidarity in the spirit
of the holy month. This year, in the West Bank, it comes amid Israeli
violence and escalations unseen since 2002, which have displaced more
than 40,000 people, and have raised concerns of annexation. While el-Bireh
has been spared the displacements, it has been raided multiple times in
the months leading up to Ramadan.
Meeting rising needs
A civil servant and father of two, Abu al-Am says the kitchen’s mission
is to reach as many families as possible, no matter the challenges.
“We’ve extended support to many governorates, even Gaza. No one is
excluded,” he tells Al Jazeera. “This is entirely funded by donations,”
says Abu al-Am, who was able to use the home he inherited into a charity
hub and move elsewhere. “What we offer, and how often we offer it,
depends on what people give.” Since the pandemic, demand has surged.
Then came Israel’s war on Gaza and tightened restrictions in the West
Bank, pushing even more families into hardship. “Many who once had
stable incomes lost everything after the October war,” he says,
referring to the war in Gaza. “Israel’s restrictions kept Palestinian
workers from reaching jobs. Who was going to support those families?”
Since October 2023, when the war began, Israel has set up more than 900
roadblocks across the West Bank, fragmenting the territory and choking
livelihoods. The kitchen has struggled to operate, but Abu al-Am and his
team adapted, coordinating with volunteers in different governorates to
ensure supplies reached those in need. Among the volunteers is Shireen,
who first came to the kitchen in need herself. “I’ve been a single
mother for five years. I didn’t even know this place existed until they
helped me financially during a rough time,” she says, busily wrapping
meal containers, dressed in her volunteer uniform.
The kitchen organisers helped pay for a room Shireen and her children
could move into, and continue to help her financially through donations
they collect. Without a formal degree, Shireen struggled to find work.
“I couldn’t afford rent or school fees for my kids,” she recalls. “But
thanks to this kitchen, we got through. Now, the least I can do is give
back. I help prepare food and clean, and my children join Abu al-Am in
distributing meals, especially during Ramadan.” The youngest volunteer
is 14-year-old Mustafa. Carrying cartons of yoghurt and bottled drinks,
he moves swiftly between stations. “I’m here because I’m an orphan, and
I want to make others happy,” he says. “Volunteering changed me. My
mother always told me, ‘You’re too soft for this kind of work.’ But I
wanted to prove to her – and to myself – that I can do it.”
This piece is published in collaboration with Egab.
SOURCE: AL JAZEERA>>
https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2025/3/24/sidi-shaybans-ramadan-iftars-challenge-israeli-restrictions-in-west-bank
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Gino d'Artali |
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