in The Electronic Intifada 24 June 2025
The phone call from the Israeli army came on the afternoon of Thursday, 12 June. It was a recording of a male’s voice, in Arabic.
First, in a robotic tone, he listed the numbers of nearby residential blocks in Khan Younis: 63, 64, 100, 107, 108. Then, the voice said: “The Israeli ‘defense’ forces are operating with extreme force in the areas where you are located to destroy the capabilities of terrorist organizations and the enemy. For your safety, evacuate immediately to the shelters in al-Mawasi.”
Every day in Gaza the boundaries between reality and imagination blur, and every moment is a test of endurance. In moments like these I ask myself if I will die, or is there a level of torment I must endure before death.
The previous night, 11 June, we had not yet received any evacuation notice. But the bombings were so close that we heard and felt the explosions from the fifth floor of our apartment in Khan Younis. In the middle of the night, I awoke to three very powerful explosions and I prayed, “Ya Allah, I hope this night ends quickly.”
I had an ear infection, and I could feel the air fill my ears and the pressure build with every explosion. Imagine a giant hammer striking your eardrum, followed by a painful ringing, an incessant buzz that you can feel in your chest and bones.
Our building shook from the force, our furniture dancing across the floor and the windows trembling. With every explosion I could feel the ground move beneath my feet, all the way up on the fifth floor.
In the morning, we could see the aftermath of the explosions. The black-gray smoke from the airstrikes suffocating the horizon; the white smoke from the tank shells snaking horizontally through the buildings. Then, that phone recording instructing us to evacuate.
It felt like the entire city was dying.