Ahmed Bashir Ahmed Shahin (36), married with 3 children, originally from Rafah but now displaced in Khan Younis.
Testimony taken on 10 January 2025
I am married to Mai Isma’il Mohammed Hamad (36), and we have 3 children: Bashir (9), Amir (8) and Mira (4). I lived in al-Salam neighborhood in Rafah City and worked as a construction worker in Israel. I obtained a work permit on 01 October 2023 and went to work in Israel. On 10 October 2023, the Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF) withdrew our permits as they have become invalid. At around 09:00 that day, the Israeli police stopped me and other workers and arrested us until around 18:00, when we were handed to the border police, totaling around 40 workers. The police officers then beat us, hurled the worst and most offensive insults and then forced us onto transfer buses. We stayed in those buses until 04:00 on 11 October 2023, when we were dropped off at a detention facility in Jerusalem, and the IOF took us. The detention facility was a 500-sqm barrack lined by fencing from the inside and barbed wire on the outside with concrete flooring and a tinplate ceiling in addition to 2 toilets. At the gate, our hands and feet were tied, and our eyes were blindfolded, unable to see anything. We spent the first night with no mattresses, food or water, and whoever wanted to use the toilet must take permission and go into the toilet while handcuffed. If any of us asked to remove the cuffs, he would be beaten and insulted. On the second night, we were given light blankets, and we were around 135 detainees. I felt so hungry and thirsty, so I asked for water, but the soldier told me to drink from the toilet tap. Never in my life had I felt humiliated as I did during those unbearable days.
On 13 October 2023, they brought us breakfast- a piece of bread and cucumber. Two days later, we were given very thin mattresses to sleep on. On 26 October 2023, I was taken for interrogation with my hands and feet cuffed and my eyes blindfolded. When I entered the room, they removed the blindfold, but my vision was blurry as I had been blindfolded for a long time. As it cleared, I saw 3 people in the room. One of them said he was from the Israeli Intelligence. He took my personal information and then showed me a map on a laptop, clearly screening my house in Rafah. He started asking questions about the neighbors, tunnels and their whereabouts. One of the soldiers then wrapped around my wrist a bracelet with a number. my hands and feet remained shackled as they transferred me to another detention facility, which was a 1.5-dunum asbestos barrack with 2 cages: each 500 sqms. As we arrived, we were searched amid beatings and insults. The detention conditions were no better in that facility; food was scarce- a piece of bread with one spoon of tuna, jam or chocolate that should suffice for the whole day.
They routinely stormed into the barrack in the middle of night, badly beating and searching us while hurling vile insults deliberately cursing our mothers, wives and sisters, meant to strip us of every last shred of dignity. In those moments, I seethed with helpless rage, convinced that no suffering could surpass the torment I was already enduring.
At around 03:00 on 03 November 2023, we heard the sound of buses in the detention facility yard. Suddenly, IOF raided the barrack and collected all mattresses, blankets and coats they had previously given us. They ordered us to line up and started calling our names, including mine. We got onto the bus and remained inside it until 05:00. The bus then drove away to Kerem Shalom Crossing and before getting off, we were unshackled and ordered to walk as fast as we could without looking back. I saw dead bodies on the ground, some already decomposed and unrecognizable. With heavy steps,
I made my way home close to the crossing in al-Salam neighborhood. My family, wife and children were happy to see me, and they were hosting 5 families displaced from North Gaza.
The Plight of Genocide
I barely had time to recover from the humiliation, beatings, and torment of Israeli detention before being thrust into an even greater nightmare—war and genocide. The bombings were relentless amid constant fear and anxiety. I was worried all the time about my parents, my wife and my children, terrified that at any second, I would lose them. Survival became an unending struggle. Water, food, and gas were scarce, and securing those life essentials was nearly impossible. We relied on the municipality’s limited water supply, and for pumping water up to the upper floors, we should have a generator. If that failed, we had to buy drinking water amid the shortage of cooking gas that forced us to gather wood and cook on fire. With skyrocketing prices and having no income, securing the bare essentials has become a tremendous challenge,
At around 15:00 on 01 April 2024, as I remember it was the 23rd of Ramadan, I was at the house door watching my 8-year-old son, Amir, playing with his friends on the streets only few meters away from me. Then, in a moment that froze my mind, a nearby loud explosion occurred. Flames broke out, approached me and disappeared. I could see anything as dust and smoke filled the area. As dust cleared, I saw dead bodies scattered on the ground. I wanted to move to help, but my body refused to respond. A crushing weight pinned me down, overwhelming my legs. I feltnothing- not even myself.
PCHR’s field researcher recounts: after Ahmed Shain described his condition at the time, silence prevailed, and he broke into tears that he failed to hide. I remained silent, finding no words to comfort what he was feeling. Only tears of grief, anguish and helplessness fell between us. Afterwards, he continued speaking:
In the blink of an eye, I became half paralyzed. My father and wife came and asked how I was feeling, and I told them, “I do not know”, I felt nothing. I was taken in an ambulance to Abu Yousif al-Najar Hospital and then referred to the Gaza European Hospital, where it turned out that I suffered from internal bleeding as shrapnel penetrated my spinal cord. I stayed for 4 days in the neurology department, during which I knew that my son, was killed while playing with his friend in the same airstrike that wounded me. Amir was my second child, when he was born, his innocent features and calmness inspired me to name him “Amir”- a name that means “prince.” He truly lived up to that name in both name and character until death stole him from us. He was sharp, quick to learn, and despite his quiet character, his presence among his peers was recognizable. He loved to accompany me wherever I went. But now, he has gone, leaving me helpless and unable to do even the simplest chores, after once being the one my family relied on in their hardest tasks.
On 07 April 2024, I was discharged from the hospital amid lack of medical care as doctors confirmed my condition was hopeless and I should cope with the bitter reality of being half paralyzed. Confined to bed with no wheelchair, I was in constant pain and suffered spasms, so I needed painkillers and nerve medicine, costing now 120 shekels. Moreover, I need diapers and urinary bags.
My suffering has gone far beyond loss and disability as I have endured the agony of displacement and life in tents that IOF have imposed on us. on 07 May 2024 when IOF declared the ground invasion into Rafah, I moved to Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, where we stayed in a friend’s house for 3 days. From there, we moved to al-Hayyah Street and then to al-Tal area in Deir al-Balah. We made tents of cloth, and amid the heavy and rainy weather, the tents collapsed and flooded. Afterwards, we moved to a plot of land where my wife’s family set up their tents on al-Tina Street in Mawasi al-Qarara area in Khan Younis. I felt it was better for my wife to be with her family to help her and ease her burden. After suffering from paralysis, my wife has become solely responsible for me and my children, Bashir and Mira.
