Samir Zaqut’s voice messages arrive, as always, surrounded by the unmistakable hum of Israeli drones flying over the orchard where he has lived with his wife since February, near Deir el Balah, in central Gaza. “First of all, Merry Christmas,” he greets. Zaqut had the habit of placing a tree with lights and decorations in the living room of his house and every December, he invited his brothers, nephews and cousins to a festive meal, which lasted for hours. It is the second year that it does not respect that tradition. “I’m not a Christian, but it doesn’t matter. Finally, Jesus was Palestinian, right?” he says. His voice is heard warm and cheerful. “If I lose hope, I am dead and, furthermore, as far as possible, I am lucky. This year, I have changed locations only three times. Other people have had to flee and move 13 or 14 times. I am lucky that this land is mine and is not on the front line of the war,” he says, taking stock.
Zaqut is one of those responsible for the Palestinian NGO Al Mezan, whose mission ranges from guaranteeing the right to health for the sick in Gaza, to denouncing violence against women or taking care of the mental health of children, exposed to the conflict since that are born Since October 2023, when the war in the Strip began, its members continue, despite the difficulties, writing reports, doing field work and holding meetings with other Palestinian and foreign NGOs.
“I fight every day to continue working, because I am a victim, that is, I am a Palestinian who needs to ensure that his family has water, bread and security, but I also want to continue documenting what is happening. It is my obligation,” adds Zaqut, contacted by Planeta Futuro this year to provide details on massive displacements, child malnutrition or restriction of the entry of humanitarian aid into the Strip.
If I lose hope, I’m dead and, furthermore, as far as possible, I’m lucky. This year, I have changed locations only three times. Other people have had to flee and move 13 or 14 times
Samir Zaqut, Al Mezan NGO
Zaqut, Imán (who prefers not to give his full name), Amjad Tantish and Abdallah Aljazzar have answered identical questions for the preparation of this report. One of them is about what they long for. “To my two daughters and my son, whom we have not seen for almost a year, since they left Gaza. I miss them deeply, but for now, it has to be that way,” Zaqut responds. “To my dead brother… and also to smoke a cigarette to relax,” Aljazzar states without hesitation. “The taste of meat and fish and the person I was,” says Imán.
“My town, Beit Lahia, in the north, today completely destroyed by bombs, and depopulated,” says Tantish, from a tent in the Al Mawasi area, in the south of the Strip. He, his wife and their five children fled their home, very close to the border with Israel, more than a year ago, and since then they have lived in tents between the towns of Rafah and Khan Younis. “My house had miraculously survived, but it was bombed a few days ago. That has affected me a lot because I had hoped to return at some point and get our life back. We are now officially homeless. And that feeling causes me immense pain that I cannot digest,” he explains.
At least 45,000 Palestinians have died violently in this war, according to official figures from the Gaza Health Ministry, controlled by the Islamist movement Hamas. In Israel, more than 1,200 people died in attacks carried out by Palestinian militiamen on October 7, 2023 and more than 250 were taken hostage, of which a hundred are still in Gaza.
A smaller and smaller backpack
Resigned to the idea of not being able to return to the north of the Strip, even if there was a ceasefire today, Tantish has begun cultivating a small garden near his tent, hoping to be able to pick some vegetables in spring.
“I would try to return home,” says Zaqut. “Even if it is to be among ruins, but they will be ours and we will be with our neighbors and our friends again. There are people who are already trying to return north, even though there is no ceasefire, and many have lost their lives in the attempt,” he laments.
We only eat canned food. There are practically no vegetables and fruits and those that are there are too expensive. I have forgotten what meat and fish taste like.
Imam, Gazan journalist
Imán, his parents and his seven siblings have changed places about seven times since the war began. “Exactly a year ago we were already in a tent, suffering from cold and hunger, but we are getting worse,” says this 23-year-old journalist, who has collaborated with this newspaper in the production of several articles on the humanitarian situation in Gaza. . Israeli strikes have killed between 190 and 200 reporters in the Strip since October 2023, according to Palestinian figures. The young woman explains that every time they have to flee, the backpack they carry with their belongings is smaller, that they lack mattresses and blankets and that they are very hungry. “We only eat canned food. There are practically no vegetables and fruits and those that are there are too expensive. I have forgotten what meat and fish taste like,” he quotes.
His house in Gaza City is partially destroyed and from the misery of his tent in the center of the Strip he does not dare to dream of rebuilding it. “There has been so much pain and misery this year…” he sighs. “I miss playing sports, I miss Gaza as it was before, also walking by the sea with my friends. “I miss the person I was,” he thinks out loud.
Hunger is a reality for the more than two million inhabitants of Gaza and, if Israel does not allow the necessary humanitarian aid to enter, more than 340,000 people, 16% of the population, will be in a catastrophic situation and one step away from death between now and April, according to the UN.
Tantish looks back and painful memories from a year ago also pile up: The death of his mother due to lack of medical care, the family’s hasty escape from northern Khan Yunis, an area that was considered safe, but which was attacked by Israel, or the loss of neighbors, friends and many of her students. This Gazan was one of the protagonists of a Planeta Futuro report published in May about the fate of the Gaza swimming team, of which he was coach. “I still keep in touch with most of the guys. Since May, another member of the team died, due to hepatitis C that he contracted and for which he could not receive the necessary medical care,” he laments.
“The feeling that remains with me at the end of the year is loss. Loss of everything and everyone. But I do not give up hope, because injustice cannot last forever. I hope the world does not tolerate it,” adds Tantish.
I end this year having another life, a very hard life that I have been forced to accept, even though I don’t like it, and in which I have not chosen anything: neither the food I eat, nor the water I drink, nor the cold that step, nor the overcrowding that I suffer
Abdallah Aljazzar, Gazan
Until that moment arrives, Tantish’s only escape route remains swimming. “The last time I went into the sea was at the beginning of December. The water was cold, but it did me good. It was a kind of farewell before winter began,” he explains. On the positive side of the scale, there is also the success of his nephew and also a member of the swimming team, Abdel Rahman Tantish, who was able to leave Gaza and is training in Qatar, where he has obtained very good results in triathlon events. “I am very hopeful that he will achieve my long-awaited dream and qualify for the next Olympic Games in 2028,” he says.
Learn while you lose everything
For a year, Aljazzar has only thought about leaving. To do this, he launched a crowdfunding campaign in order to raise sufficient funds and looked for an educational center where he could continue studying, after having graduated in English Literature at the Al Azhar University in Gaza, today converted into a mountain of rubble. This 24-year-old only hopes that the Rafah crossing, on the border with Egypt, closed since May, will reopen soon so he can travel to the United States, where he has finally obtained a scholarship. “It’s the only reason to keep going,” he says.
For now, he lives in a tent in the south of the Strip with 20 members of his family. His brother and cousin died in this war, as well as friends, neighbors and more distant relatives. “2024 has been about learning while we lost everything,” he says, bitterly. “A year ago I was at my grandmother’s house, in Rafah, because I had to run out of my apartment, in the east of the city. Both were destroyed. A year ago, I also had to accept that I would never see my brother again,” he adds.
Aljazzar starred in an article in Planeta Futuro in September, when he managed to buy two new batteries so that a precarious installation that he had set up thanks to solar panels would work again and dozens of mobile phones of displaced people in the countryside could be charged for free. “The batteries still work, now I use them mainly to pump water and bring it to tanks located near the tents,” he explains. Thanks to this system, several families can have water without traveling.
But this young man feels that his health is failing in leaps and bounds due to the lack of fresh, quality food. “We eat one meal a day. Today it was falafel,” he says. Aljazzar also feels weakened by the cold weather in Gaza this December and explains that his “back is destroyed” from carrying heavy things for a year, to make life in the displaced persons camp more bearable.
“I end this year having another life, a very hard life that I have been forced to accept, even though I don’t like it, and in which I have not chosen anything: neither the food I eat, nor the water I drink, nor the cold. what happened, nor the overcrowding I suffer,” he concludes.
