Ne’ma ‘Ali Muhammad Harara (28), married with three children lives in Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, Gaza.

Date: 14 November2024

I am Ne’ma ‘Ali Muhammad Harara. I have been married to Anas Nemer Muhammad Harara for ten years, and we have three children: Qasem (9), Taleen (8), and 4-and-half-month-old Muhammad. When the war on Gaza started on 07 October 2023, I was only one-month pregnant, and IOF launched fire belts at Sheikh Radwan neighborhood and dropped leaflets ordering evacuation to the south. However, we decided to stay home.

By late November, the Israeli Occupying Forces (IOF) moved into the Sheikh Radwan area. Tanks surrounded our house and stationed beneath it. We lived in constant fear and terror as the homes around us were being bombed, filling the air with dust and rubble. Tanks opened fire to our house, forcing us to huddle in a corner. I held my children tightly, fearing bullets would hit us. For three days, we couldn’t prepare any food and survived only on water.

The siege was terrifying. Extreme fear caused all of us to suffer from diarrhea. After 20 days, our supply of drinking water ran out, leaving us with no option but to drink salty water. Food was incredibly scarce, and we had to ration what little we had, fearing it would run out.

The siege lasted 52 days, and they were the worst days of my life. During that time, I lost 22 kilograms, dropping from 66 kilograms to 44 kilograms. When the temporary humanitarian pause was announced, the tanks withdrew to Karama area, allowing us to leave our home. However, as we fled, IOF opened fire on us. I ran with my husband and children, consumed by terror, as we passed the dead bodies lying on the streets—a scene that will haunt me forever.

We sought refuge in the Sabra area at my sister-in-law’s house. At that time, flour was not in place, and we were forced to eat barley, which I could not tolerate. Every time I tried to consume it, I felt severely ill, my skin turned blue, and I vomited. With no other food available, we endured the agony of starvation as Gaza was gripped by famine, and even the little food that was available was exceedingly rare.

Later, I went to the Patients’ Friends Clinic to check on my health and that of my unborn child. After undergoing the necessary tests, the doctors informed me that I was suffering from severe malnutrition and needed to take vitamins to maintain my baby’s health. However, medicines were critically scarce and prohibitively expensive, leaving me unable to obtain them due to the dire circumstances

In late February 2024, the second floor of the building we were staying in was bombed. We sustained injuries and were covered in dust and rubble, forcing us to flee and return to our partially destroyed home.

In May, the house next to ours was hit by heavy shelling, causing parts of our home to collapse. I suffered a severe hemorrhage and had no transportation to the hospital other than a donkey-drawn cart. Upon reaching Al-Sahaba Hospital, the doctors decided to perform an emergency cesarean to save my life, but they informed me that my baby would not survive. I had to sign a waiver accepting full responsibility due to the lack of resources.

My baby was born weighing 1.2 kilograms and suffered from severe infections due to malnutrition and premature birth. He was placed in an incubator, but resources were critically insufficient. Oxygen was supplied intermittently, and infections spread throughout his body. His left hand developed an ulcer that progressed to a bone infection, resulting in a hand fracture and the dislocation of his elbow joint. The doctors told us he required three surgeries to stabilize the joint, but the ongoing war made it impossible.

By the end of May, my baby was discharged from the incubator but remained in urgent need of medical treatment. My husband, who suffers from Behcet’s disease, struggles to provide formula for our baby amid the unbearable conditions of war and the Israeli siege, which made milk both scarce and exorbitantly expensive.

My heart aches every day as I watch my baby endure pain and hunger. Every moment reminds me of how much I’ve lost with each bombing and attack. I can only wish for an end to this suffering and for a chance to give my child a life free of torment.