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For Battered Gazans, Few Places Left to Hide
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"I am so anxious," he said. "What if they are hiding something from me? What if everyone over there is dead?"
On Saturday, Israeli jets dropped leaflets ordering the residents in northern Gaza to leave or risk death, said Samir Sultan, Intisar Sultan's brother. The Sultans decided to leave their house in Beit Hanoun.
They went to stay with their large extended family near the Jabalya refugee camp. By Sunday, that area was under assault. "The shelling attacked our family houses. Six houses were fully destroyed, and 15 were partially destroyed. So we all fled," Samir Sultan said.
On Monday, the group arrived at the Asma bint Bakr elementary school in the Shati refugee camp in Gaza City. There were 11 families. They had left swiftly, with barely their possessions. U.N. workers registered them and dispatched them to a classroom.
Hamada Sultan, 21, recalled seeing his brother Abdullah, along with his cousins Rawi, 25, and Hussein, 24, leave the classroom and head to the toilets, which were in another building. A few minutes later, he heard the explosions.
"I never imagined it would be my brother. I never thought they would target the shelter," Hamada said. "When the ambulance came, I searched for my brother. I never found him. His body was in pieces."
On Tuesday, the smell of blood floated in the air, witnesses said. Around the debris of the toilet, blood and shrapnel peppered the remaining walls. Shoes, tattered shirts and pieces of flesh specked the ground.
The Sultans fled again. Samir took Intisar out of the compound and headed to another U.N. school.
By the time they reached the next school, in the same neighborhood, all their other relatives had arrived. They sat in a classroom, on benches and on the floor, offering condolences to Intisar. They appeared tired and hungry. Outside, women were doing laundry. One family of four had one blanket at a time when nights are cold.
Rafeek Sultan said he left his elderly mother and father behind. They were too feeble, so they chose to stay at home. He wondered whether they had made the correct decision and said he felt guilty. "I don't know what will happen to them," he added.
At the school, there was no food, no milk, no diapers, nothing for basic needs, he said, as his three small children sat beside him. "We thank UNRWA for helping us, but we can't survive like this," he said, referring to the U.N. agency that provides aid to the Palestinians.
Hamada worried about his mother, Intisar, seated inside the classroom, lost in thought. "Our house is gone. My brother is gone. My future, as well," he said.
No one thinks this will be their last place of refuge.
"We're not safe anymore. We know that," Samir said. "But what else can I do? I have no other option. At least in this shelter, I won't smell blood."
Abdel Kareem reported from Gaza City.
