Date of testimony: 31 August 2025

Testimony of Izkaa’ Farid Abd al-Karim Rajab, 35 years old, resident of Beit Lahia, currently displaced in Gaza.

I work as a primary school teacher on a temporary contract, and I also raise poultry. I am from Beit Lahia, Al-Shaimaa neighborhood, opposite Al-Shamali Club. I lived with my parents in our four-story family home, built on 220 m². Life was peaceful and stable alongside my retired parents. Shortly before the 2023 assault, my parents invested all their savings to buy two houses on Al-Mokhabarat Street as a future investment. But then came this unprecedented, brutal war.

On the night of 7 October 2023, I was on Beit Lahia beach with friends until dawn. It was a beautiful night. I returned home, performed Al-Fajr prayers, and went to sleep. Two hours later, I awoke to the sound of rockets. At first it was unclear whether these were false alarms or Israeli strikes. As the hours passed, it became evident they were Palestinian rockets fired in response to massacres carried out by the Israeli occupation.

Because our home was in a border area of Beit Lahia, we immediately fled to Al-Dawar al-Gharbi, staying at my uncle Tawfiq Rajab’s house for about two weeks.

The situation worsened, and we were displaced again, this time to Jabalia Camp, staying at my aunt’s house. Forty of us lived under one roof, suffering from lack of food and water. We risked our lives traveling back to Beit Lahia to fetch drinking water from my uncle Tawfiq’s home. Displacement continued as the war dragged on. With winter approaching, we lacked clothing and blankets, buying whatever we could find in the markets. Bombardment intensified on the camps and residential blocks, forcing us to move into the UNRWA clinic in Jabalia Camp. Nine family members and I stayed there for about two and a half months in a hallway no larger than 12 m².

We suffered greatly accessing drinking water, available only two hours a day. Food was scarce, and famine loomed. Only rice, wild spinach, and lentils were available, and at exorbitant prices.

Living among strangers, we lost all privacy. Sanitation was nearly nonexistent, and essential supplies were unavailable. This continued until mid-Ramadan 2024, when the Israeli occupation struck the clinic’s solar panels with a reconnaissance missile, coinciding with ground incursions nearby. We moved to Abu Hussein School in Jabalia Camp, where famine became acute. We fasted all day and broke our fast only with lentils or spinach. Bread was completely unavailable. We ground barley and animal feed to make inedible bread that had to be soaked in water before we could swallow it.

We stayed at Abu Hussein School for two months. Airdropped aid began, slightly easing the famine, though prices remained high. Water was somewhat better due to a pump.

On 18 May 2024, the army dropped leaflets ordering evacuation of the school and movement toward central Gaza. I chose to stay closer to home, while my parents went to Bir al-Na’ja west of Jabalia. It was agonizing to leave them under bombardment when they required special care. I slept at Al-Shaimaa School near our home.

On 20 May 2024, I went shopping with my friend Karam Salman (25). After a long search for essentials, we reached Beit Lahia Project. Near al-Fakhoura School, on Al-Daqa Street, Israeli warplanes targeted the road with three reconnaissance missiles, one hitting the al-Kahlout family home. I was injured in the strike; my friend Muhammad Karam was killed. I lost consciousness and was transferred to Kamal Adwan Hospital, then to Al-Ma’madani Hospital in Gaza City after Kamal Adwan was threatened with evacuation.

The hospital was overflowing with casualties. I was left bleeding for hours before undergoing surgery, which lasted 3–4 hours without anesthesia, as it had run out. Both of my legs were amputated above the joint—one of the most severe forms of amputation. I stayed only five days post-surgery, insufficient time for recovery. Essential treatments and nutrition were lacking, and I had to buy some painkillers at my own expense. Without the intervention of my cousin, anesthesiologist Dr. Mazen Rajab, my condition would have deteriorated further.

I suffered severe psychological trauma from the injury and loss of livelihood. For months I had no wheelchair, until one was donated, but it was impractical for Gaza’s destroyed streets. I struggled even to relieve myself. Food prices were astronomical: a single egg cost 17 shekels, a can of tuna ten times its normal price. I needed protein- and calcium-rich foods to aid recovery, but the occupation denied us access to them.

I was displaced more than 15 times, enduring constant bombardment, famine, and lack of medicine. I experienced seizures for six consecutive months. One night, Dr. Mazen removed a 5 cm fragment from my back in a makeshift home surgery that saved my life.

With every displacement, my suffering worsened, especially with a wheelchair. In December 2024, the army ordered the complete evacuation of Beit Lahia. We fled to the Indonesian Hospital, which came under direct bombardment. I witnessed two young men killed before my eyes. My relative, 14-year-old Rayan Rajab, was hit by shrapnel in his back, and another fragment pierced my wheelchair. I barely crossed the Israeli checkpoint with the help of my cousin Abd Rajab (28). Soldiers detained me for hours, beat me at the amputation sites, and interrogated me for nine hours, suspecting I was with the resistance.

I later moved between relatives’ homes in Gaza City and al-Shati refugee Camp, until the 19 January 2025 truce gave me hope for medical evacuation. But the Israeli occupation later destroyed our family home completely. Displacement and suffering continued. I still struggle to move with a broken wheelchair and urgently need to travel for treatment and the fitting of prosthetic limbs so I can live a normal life.

I appeal to international bodies to provide me with an electric wheelchair, facilitate my travel for treatment, and to end the genocide against innocent civilians in Gaza.