I was born on 26 May 1991 in Rafah and live there, near the Ibn Tamima mosque. I am married, father of a daughter, work as a planning engineer, and run a small store.

On 7 October 2023, the major attack by Israeli occupation forces on the Gaza Strip began.  I initially stayed in my house – it was considered comparatively safe at the time. About a month and a half later, however, a heavy bombardment struck the area nearby. Half of our house is made of concrete and the other half of zinc metal sheeting. Out of concern for their safety, my wife N. moved with our daughter K. to her family in the Jeneina district. I stayed behind alone.

On the evening of 20 February 2024, around 9 pm, I was with my wife and our child. I was playing with my one-and-a-half-year-old daughter and had brought her diapers. Shortly afterwards, I left the house to let her sleep. Less than thirty minutes later, I heard the detonation of a heavy bombardment. Just a few seconds later, I saw the message on Telegram: the target was the Jeneina neighborhood. My heart tightened. I knew that my in-laws' house had been hit – the place where my wife and daughter were staying.

My brothers and I ran. Two kilometers separated us from the location. When we arrived, the house was almost completely destroyed. Black dust was in the air, fires were burning, neighbors had gathered, ambulances were standing by. I immediately began to search. I was told that bodies had already been recovered and taken to the hospital. I couldn't find my daughter. On the street, I saw a neighbor holding her in his arms – she was still alive. The explosion had flung her from her grandparents' house to the neighbor's house. She was taken to Abu Yusuf Al-Najjar Hospital. After the examination, the doctors told me that she had died.

The body of an unidentified woman was also found in the hospital. She was taken to the morgue. I could tell from her clothes that it was my wife. Her face was barely recognizable from the explosion, it was burnt. Eight relatives also died in the bombing. I couldn't take part in the rescue work. I was in a state of numbness.

The next morning, 21 February, the dead were buried in the cemetery on Awni Zahir Street after a funeral service. That day changed my life. My wife and I had plans; we wanted to raise our daughter in a sheltered environment and give her a good life. But all that was destroyed. Israel took away my home, my family, my hope. Just like what happens to everyone in Gaza. My wife and her family were civilians. They had no connection whatsoever with armed groups. For three years, my wife worked as a lawyer at the Palestinian Center for Human Rights.

Another part of this reality is that I was displaced several times. We fled again and again, living in emergency shelters made of sheet metal. On 4 December 2024, a blast hit the place where we were staying. My father, my three brothers, my sister's husband, his two daughters and other relatives were killed. Only my mother, my two sisters and I survived.

We fled to Al-Mawasi near Khan Younis. On 5 December, we moved to my sister's house in Khirbet Al-Adas. We stayed there until the next escalation began in March 2025 – again accompanied by heavy bombing. When I heard about the massacre in Al-Sultan, where many people were killed, I decided to leave my sister's house. I didn't want to lose anyone else. Together with my mother and sisters, I fled to Khan Younis again. We still live there today but our living conditions are catastrophic. Cooking gas is virtually impossible to get, food is unaffordable or unavailable. Since the beginning of Ramadan in March 2025, the army has been blocking aid deliveries, and clean drinking water is also in short supply.

We live in a hut made of zinc sheeting. It gets unbearably hot in summer and freezing cold in winter. I'm afraid of the constant sound of airplanes. A few days ago, a place near us was bombed and many people died. There is no safe place in the Gaza Strip. Even if people claim that Al-Mawasi is safe, many attacks are concentrated here. Quadcopters and Apache helicopters circle over our heads every day. Their noises never let the fear subside. I expect to die at any time – in my sleep, on the street, while fetching water.

But I have already lost what is most precious to me: my daughter, my wife, my family. My father is dead, my brothers, my brother-in-law, my nieces, my cousins, friends – people I love.

My everyday life consists of waiting. I knead bread in my tent and carry it to the clay ovens, where I wait in line for hours to bake it. I also stand in long lines for water – for a gallon that the tankers bring. That's my daily life: waiting in line to survive.

I only wish for one thing: for this bloodshed to end. This suffering that accompanies us every day. I have lost my home, my family, my hope. I wish for death every second – because I live under great strain and fear, because there is no safe place in the Gaza Strip. Everyone lives in the shadow of their own death.

Khan Younis, 3 April 2025

(Note: The testimony has been edited for clarity without changing the content).

The Israeli military campaign in Gaza has caused a humanitarian catastrophe of historic proportions: tens of thousands of dead and injured, the widespread destruction of civilian and medical infrastructure, massive war crimes, and the repeated displacement of entire population groups.

Together with our Palestinian partner organizations – the Palestinian Center for Human Rights (PCHR), Al Mezan and Al Haq – we are committed to preventing the export of German weapons of war and armaments to Israel, which could be used in the Gaza Strip for serious violations of international law. We demand transparency and accountability regarding the export and use of German weapons. Our goal is clear: to stop further violations of national and international law – in Gaza and beyond.

That said, our work can only succeed if people like you stand by our side. With your donation, you strengthen our commitment to taking targeted action against war crimes and demanding that those in power uphold their obligations under international law. You enable us to have the staying power we need to achieve legal and social justice. At its core, this is about equal human rights standards – for everyone, everywhere.

In solidarity,

the ECCHR-Team