Testimony Date: 25 April 2025

Ni’ma Nasser Mahmoud Hamouda, 24 years old, resident of Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, Gaza City.

I am a graduate of the Faculty of Information Technology from the Islamic University in Gaza. I live with my two younger brothers: Jihad (22), a university student, and Ezz Al-Din (19), a high school student, in our family home on Kashko Street in eastern Al-Zaytoun. Our father was killed in the 2008 war, and our mother passed away in 2020 due to cancer.

At around 6:30 AM on Saturday, 7 October 2023, I woke up to the sound of continuous explosions. Later, we learned from the news about the large-scale incursion across the eastern borders. That evening, my grandfather, Rafeeq Saber Abdel Aal Abu Al-Kheir (75), who is disabled and suffers from Alzheimer’s, arrived with my grandmother Yusra Saadi Darwish Abu Al-Kheir (69), my uncle Mustafa (39), his wife Arwa Abu Al-Kheir (30), and their children: Amer (11), Fatima (7), and Sara (4), along with the wife of my uncle Ahmad, Abeer Abu Diya (40), and her five children: Taqwa (16), Ibrahim (14), Rafeeq (7), Maryam (4), and Misk (2).

Despite the intense bombardment and continuous carpet bombing, we chose not to evacuate, even when the Israeli army called on residents of Gaza and the north to flee south. We stayed, mainly because of my grandfather’s condition and the many children with us.

In early December 2023, Israeli forces began advancing into the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood. Our home was surrounded by military vehicles, and leaving was impossible. We remained inside, moving cautiously and staying together in the hallway between the bedrooms. Food and water became scarce. We rationed supplies: each person was allowed one sip of water per day, two people shared one can of beans, and each child was given a quarter piece of bread. Random gunfire was constant, and one bullet struck our gas cylinder, causing a leak. We inhaled the gas, and many of us, especially the children and my elderly grandfather, struggled to breathe.

At around 11:30 AM on Friday, 8 December 2023, Israeli soldiers blew up the front door. Terrified, we gathered in the hallway. My grandfather lay on a mattress near the entrance, and I was closest to him. Soldiers then blew up the second door, followed by the wooden door leading to the living room and bedrooms. There were many of them. My grandfather greeted them, saying, “Welcome, welcome,” but they immediately opened fire, shooting him in the head, chest, and leg. I screamed, telling them we were civilians—mostly women and children. One soldier threw a blanket over my grandfather’s face after executing him. They then began shooting indiscriminately, and I screamed again.

One soldier ordered me to come forward. I crawled toward them, surrounded by soldiers pointing guns at me. They questioned me about who we were, our names, how many people were inside, and the number of women and children. One soldier threatened to kill me if they found anyone not accounted for.

They then took my uncle Mustafa and my brothers Jihad and Ezz Al-Din outside. They forced them to strip down to their underwear, blindfolded them, handcuffed their hands behind their backs with plastic ties, and made them lie face down on the ground. They also took the male children—Amer (11), Ibrahim (14), and Rafeeq (7)—lined them up against the wall, blindfolded them, and questioned them about their names and ages before letting them return to their mothers. They ordered my two aunts and their eight children outside and told them to head south.

Only my grandmother and I were left in the house. We were forced to face the wall with our hands raised. Later, they took us to a house belonging to the Al-Gharabli family, which the army had turned into a military post. Inside, there were chairs lined up facing the wall. I saw my uncle and brothers seated, blindfolded and handcuffed. I also saw our neighbors, Kamilia and her husband Abu Ali Al-Akhras. My grandmother and I sat on chairs. They blindfolded us but did not tie us. Throughout the night, the soldiers beat the men, who were left naked in the freezing cold. We stayed there until dawn the next day.

At dawn on Saturday, 9 December 2023, a truck arrived. It carried male detainees. We climbed into it using a ladder. My grandmother, unable to do so, was taken by a military jeep. Only Kamilia and I were female detainees aboard.

While in the truck, we were beaten, and cold water was poured on us despite the freezing weather. Eventually, we reached a place where female soldiers took charge of us. Another truck arrived with 11 other women, who I later learned were also from Al-Zaytoun. The female soldiers searched us and placed plastic handcuffs on our wrists. We were placed in a tent with a gravel floor.

After several hours, a bus arrived. As we boarded, the soldiers threw the male detainees on the ground, pointed guns at their heads, and played Quranic recitation over loudspeakers, saying “Condolences, condolences.” The bus ride was long. We were forbidden to move or lift our heads, remained blindfolded and handcuffed, and one of the soldiers forcibly removed the headscarf from a detainee.

After a while, the bus stopped, and we were ordered to get off one by one. They removed our blindfolds briefly to take photographs of us. The area appeared mountainous, with numerous barracks scattered across gravel-covered ground. We were then taken for a body search, during which we were forced to undress and change into grey tracksuits. They re-blindfolded us, shackled our hands, and placed numbered tags on our legs.

Ten women, including myself, were placed in a cage—a structure fenced on all sides, including the roof, with a gravel floor. We remained there until the evening without being given any food or water. Later, we were transferred by bus to another barracks in the same area. This one had a corrugated metal roof, barbed wire walls, and a concrete floor. Inside, there was a mobile toilet. There were 18 of us female detainees in that barracks. They distributed extremely thin mattresses and one light blanket per person, despite the severe cold. When it rained, the water leaked inside, soaking us completely.

We informed the female soldiers, but they responded, “Hopefully you die. We don’t care.”

The next day, I was taken for interrogation inside a caravan. I was seated on a metal chair and had my hands and feet shackled to it. They removed the blindfold from my eyes and began collecting my personal details. The interrogator asked about my family and whether any of them were affiliated with Hamas. He then opened a laptop and showed me a picture of our home. He asked if any of our neighbours were affiliated with Hamas. I told him I didn’t know. He also asked about tunnels near our house, and again I said I had no knowledge of any. The interrogation lasted about an hour. Afterward, a female soldier unshackled me, replaced the blindfold, and returned me to the barracks.

I stayed there for six days. Food was extremely scarce—three medium-sized containers of yogurt were shared among all of us, and the plates we were given were very small. At lunchtime, we were given either lentils or beans. Our hands remained shackled the entire time, making it extremely difficult to eat or use the toilet. Only elderly detainees were allowed assistance, and one younger detainee was permitted to help them.

On 14 December 2023, a bus arrived, and we were ordered to board it. Our eyes were blindfolded again, our heads forced downward, with strict orders not to lift them, and our hands were shackled in front of us. Throughout the journey, we were subjected to random beatings, insults, and extremely abusive language. Cold water was poured over us. We were being transferred from Al-Quds Prison to Haifa, and the journey was very long.

During the ride, one of the soldiers struck me on the head with his weapon. I felt intense pain and heat and believed I had lost my vision from the impact. Not stopping there, he removed my blindfold and began pressing it against my nose and mouth, then covered my entire face with it, using it to suffocate me. He kept me in that state for about an hour.

Eventually, the bus stopped. They removed our blindfolds and made us get off. They took personal photographs of us, with the Israeli flag in the background. After photographing me, they threw me to the ground and kicked me repeatedly. Then they put the blindfold back on and returned me and the other detainees to the bus. We were taken to Damon Prison, where the military handed us over to the Israeli police.

We were admitted one by one. Each of us was subjected to a thorough search. I was then taken for questioning, during which they collected my personal information, my mobile phone number, and my social media account details. I was then moved to a cell—a small room with three-tier bunk beds, a bathroom, and a sink. I was held there with my grandmother and three other detainees. The detainees were rotated weekly, but my grandmother and I remained together in the same cell.

After a week, I was interrogated again. I was formally accused of “collaborating with terrorist organizations and threatening the security of Israel.” I was asked where I was on 7 October, and I told them I was asleep. They asked who I knew from Hamas, and whether I had received any coupons from them. The interrogation lasted about an hour, after which I signed the statement.

Throughout my detention, no medical care was provided. I repeatedly requested painkillers for the head injury caused by the soldier’s blow, but no one responded. The food was also scarce and poor in quality—typically small amounts of dry rice or a small bowl of lentil soup.

On 24 January 2024, we were presented with a release document and asked to sign it. We were then transferred by bus. As soon as we boarded, iron shackles were placed on our hands and feet. We were taken to Sde Teiman Prison. Upon arrival, we were subjected to another thorough search and placed in a barracks with a concrete floor and walls and ceiling made of zinc sheets. We were forced to kneel from 5:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. with no movement or turning allowed. Permission was required to use the toilet.

Next to us was a men’s barracks, and we could hear dogs being unleashed on them. We heard their screams and the sound of their bodies slamming against the metal walls that separated us. We wept bitterly, powerless to do anything.

On 29 January 2024, another bus arrived. Male and female detainees boarded. Our hands and feet were shackled, and we were blindfolded again. The bus drove us to the Kerem Shalom crossing. There, they removed our restraints and blindfolds and ordered us to walk quickly forward without stopping or looking back. We reached a point managed by a UN agency, where we were given bottles of water and biscuits. We were then transferred to shelter centres in Rafah. I was taken to Al-Salam School along with my grandmother, who was released the same day via a military jeep due to her age and illness.

At the school, I was reunited with my brothers Jihad and Ezzedine, who had been released on 25 December 2023. My uncle, Mustafa Abu Al-Khair, remains in Israeli custody to this day.

We stayed in Rafah, enduring the harsh reality of forced displacement and the dire conditions in the school shelters. We had no clothing, mattresses, or blankets, and even my martyr father’s salary had been suspended.

On 7 May 2024, Israeli forces invaded Rafah again, forcing us to flee once more—this time to Al-Mawasi in Khan Younis, where my siblings, grandmother, and I took shelter near my aunt’s tent. At the end of December, my siblings and I moved alone to a tent in Hamad City until we were finally allowed to return to Gaza City.