The Financial Times newspaper published a report on the destruction of the Israeli bombing of Gaza on the social fabric of Palestinian society in the Strip, prepared by a group of its correspondents in Khan Yunis, Cairo, and London. 

They said that Iman Awad was a mother keen to protect her children, and before the war, the 31-year-old mother was A year old, she does not allow her children to play in the streets without supervision. Sondos, her sister-in-law, said, “She was always afraid for her children.” Today, the family faces devastation worse than they expected. Iman, her husband, her eldest daughter, and her youngest child were killed in an Israeli raid last month. Her nine-year-old daughter, Ayam al-Agha, survived, but is sleeping under hospital blankets and suffering from a brain injury caused by the airstrike.

The loss of the extended Agha family is broader, as 80 members of the family have died since October 7 due to the bombing. As Israel continues to invade the Gaza Strip, she is among several families facing a loss of this magnitude. Hafsa, one of Ayyam’s aunts, wiped her head, which had been shaved in preparation for the operation, and was always covered with long, black hair. Hafsa said when she showed pictures of herself on her phone, “She was like a butterfly, and Ayyam loved life very much.”

Like other families in Gaza, Ayyam lived with her extended family in one house, a three-story building consisting of five apartments. Five uncles and aunts on her father’s side and their children lived under one roof. Living under one roof in multi-storey buildings in search of safety was accompanied by the outbreak of war, and this meant that a number of generations suffered the same fate as the Agha family, but they were erased from the civil registry due to one or several Israeli raids.

There are about 1,550 families that have lost several members, according to officials in the Ministry of Health, and there are about 312 families that have lost more than ten members, as of November 23. Relief agencies have become familiar with the term “WCNSF,” or “wounded child without family.” Before the war, the Ayyam family believed that their life chances were improving. Her father, Mahmoud, 31, had a degree in business administration, and after struggling to find work in this field, he began working as an electrician and opened an electrical appliance repair shop. “He was happy and pleased with this,” said Fouad, 60, Ayam’s grandfather.

Ayyam and her sister Mira were diligent in school, and their aunt Sondos described them as “two beautiful birds.” Before her death, their mother, who had a degree in education, was looking to buy a sofa and winter clothes, but the war arrived first, she says. It was a family visit to Ayam's aunt and uncle in the area known as Khan Younis in the Emirates neighborhood, which cost the family the loss of most of its members on November 3. Ayyam and her brother Fouad survived the Israeli raid, but her sister Mira, 12 years old, her little brother Adam, 18 months, and her father and mother were killed.

Fouad, grandfather of Ayyam, went to the scene of the accident. “The house was destroyed,” he said, and “blocks and stones were scattered everywhere.” In hours of terror, he searched for survivors or parts of bodies among the rubble. When he learned that Ayyam and her brother Fouad were alive, he felt relieved, “When I saw him, I felt like a part of my soul had returned to me.”

Muhammad Abu Sultan, 24, a keen footballer who played as a goalkeeper and was looking to get married, was among several members of his family killed. Using data from Airwars, a British non-profit organization that tracks victims of air strikes, the Financial Times attempted to identify survivors of Sultan’s friends and family members who died. He died with 8 members of his family in Jabalia refugee camp in an air strike on October 31, along with 126 civilians, including 69 children. A childhood friend named Mohamed said, “He loved Real Madrid.” Muhammad died with his father, Omar, a carpenter, his mother, Sahar, who worked in the sweets industry, his three brothers, Ahmed, 30 years old, Mahmoud, 27 years old, and Abdullah, 13 years old, his sister Shahd, whose age has not been confirmed, and Ahmed’s wife and daughter. A friend who was residing in Gaza, named Suhail Yahya, posted on a Facebook page: “There are no relatives or dear ones left, they are all gone.”

The newspaper says that the loss of families like the Agha and Abu Sultan dug holes in Gaza's social fabric. “A loss like this erases the shared memories and identities of the survivors,” says Dina Matar, a lecturer at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London. “It will leave a clear shock.” Israel says it wants to destroy Hamas over the October 7 attack, but survivors of the victims' families say they have no connection to Hamas and have not provided it with refuge.

The Ministry of Health in Gaza says that the death toll reached 18,205 people, most of whom were children and women, although the data does not differentiate between civilians and fighters. Israel says a third of those killed were fighters and accused Hamas of using civilians as human shields.

  85% of Gaza's population of 2.3 million, who now live in the south of the Strip, have been displaced. Amnesty documented five cases of aerial bombardment in which entire families were wiped out, and demanded that they be investigated as war crimes. The Israeli Foreign Minister responded to Amnesty International as “an anti-Semitic and anti-Israel organization.”

The Agha family's website, which once documented weddings and academic achievements, became a place to document the loss of life. The Agha family was affected by the raids. One day after his visit, grandfather Fouad learned that a raid had hit a mosque near his house and wounded his children. “We face one disaster after another,” said Hafsa, Ayam’s aunt. Medical experts warn of the psychological effects of such a widespread loss. Teenagers in Gaza have survived five wars: 2008, 2012, 2014, 2021, and now 2023.

Aisha Qader, a pediatrician and senior advisor to Save the Children, says that Gaza's youth suffer from several psychological traumas. Children face death, while adults, whom children seek for protection, are in a state of despair, and “adults cannot create the sense of safety and security that they fundamentally need and are necessary for the development of ordinary children.” None of Gaza's children are in school, as 50% of schools have been bombed.

Matar says that the loss of families carries historical and social repercussions. “The death of an entire family means the disappearance of people’s records and social lives.” This leaves “gaps” in the records of ordinary people and their existence. “Memory is important and they are necessary elements when you want to collect stories and histories of ordinary lives.”

While Ayyam is likely waiting to obtain a permit for treatment in Turkey, her family is preserving the family memory and publishing photos and documents. It tries to help the surviving individuals and show solidarity with them.

Maha Nassar, an expert on the history of the modern Middle East at the University of Arizona, says that condolences and messages on social media platforms are an expression of the determination and life of society. Gazans cling to their Palestinian identity, “and Palestinians around the world read and share their sense of loss, which, I believe, builds deep bonds in Gaza and beyond.”

Source: Sama News