Palestinian Americans Watch with Dread as Family Members in Gaza Struggle to Stay Alive

 Palestinians gather at the site of Israeli strikes on houses in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip October 15, 2023. (Reuters)
Palestinians gather at the site of Israeli strikes on houses in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip October 15, 2023. (Reuters)
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Palestinian Americans Watch with Dread as Family Members in Gaza Struggle to Stay Alive

 Palestinians gather at the site of Israeli strikes on houses in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip October 15, 2023. (Reuters)
Palestinians gather at the site of Israeli strikes on houses in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip October 15, 2023. (Reuters)

For the unforeseeable future, Laila El-Haddad has one mission: to get the voices of her fellow Palestinians, along with their pleas for help, out to the rest of the world.

From her home office in Columbia, Maryland, El-Haddad frantically juggled phone calls this week from journalists seeking her expertise on Gaza and Palestinian Americans trying to get the attention of their local elected officials.

In between the calls, the 45-year-old mother and author checked WhatsApp, the global messaging application, for updates from her own family members in Gaza during their brief windows of electricity and internet access. Electricity was since cut off by Israel and internet outages have made it difficult for many to keep in touch.

"I’m just trying to stay sane by doing what I can to help," El-Haddad said.

For many Palestinian Americans, there’s a sense of helplessness and hopelessness as they struggle to hear from loved ones in Gaza. Amid a fuel and water shortage, no electricity, and now a forced evacuation in the north, administering and sending aid to civilians in Gaza is near impossible.

Israel has bombarded Gaza with airstrikes for days and has threatened a ground invasion in response to Hamas’ attack on Israel that killed 1,300 last weekend. The Gaza Health Ministry said Saturday that over 2,200 people have been killed in the besieged territory in the last several days, including 724 children and 458 women. With a looming humanitarian crisis, that number is expected to rise.

But even before this week, getting to Gaza to visit family for Palestinian Americans was a lengthy, exhausting and difficult experience, and most people who live Gaza can never leave. Unlike Israeli Americans, Palestinian Americans say they have never been afforded the opportunity to freely help their loved ones in times of crisis.

Mohammad AbuLughod, who lives in a suburb of Milwaukee, received fragmented updates from a cell phone his family in Gaza kept charged via a solar panel. His family shared those messages with The Associated Press:

An elder in the family died from an airstrike. They tried to seek shelter in a United Nations school, before deciding to stay home. Schools were damaged by airstrikes. Children died. Buildings have been reduced to rubble. They don’t know if the neighbors are alive. They are all gathered now, three generations, in one house. When the bombs come, they will die together. No one will have to live alone.

"I feel I am living in a nightmare," one relative wrote in a message to the family.

AbuLughod is at a loss for what to do. "There's no way to send support, we can't send them money and money would probably be useless, because there's nothing to buy," he said.

Deanna Othman’s young nephew in Gaza messaged her on Instagram to say it may be the last time he’s able to talk to her.

"How do you reply to that?" Othman, who lives in a suburb of Chicago, said in an interview with the AP. "How can you say anything to comfort someone who is facing their own mortality?"

Haneen Okal, a Palestinian American living in New Jersey, is currently stuck in Gaza with her three young children. She'd gone to Gaza while pregnant, after nine years away to visit her family, and planned to travel back to New Jersey to deliver her baby. But after experiencing a medical emergency, she delivered her baby in Gaza in August, and has remained there since.

Minutes before she was set to leave Gaza through the Rafah crossing with Egypt earlier this week, Israeli airstrikes left the crossing inoperable. She and her children traveled back to the Rafah crossing on Saturday in the hopes that the US government would allow for their safe evacuation. So far, she said, State Department officials have not told her if they will help her leave. Abdulla, Okal's husband, is pleading with the US government from New Jersey to bring his family home.

"There’s no place safe here in the Gaza Strip," Haneen Okal said in a recorded video sent to the AP via WhatsApp. "My kids are feeling so scared. ... Please help us get evacuated safely."

Many Palestinian Americans watched in agony this week as Israelis abroad rushed to travel to Israel following the Hamas assault, signing up to fight in military reserve units or administer aid on the ground. Palestinian Americans say they’ve never had the option to do the same.

With the Gaza Strip, a sliver of land only 25 miles (40 kilometers) long with 2.3 million people, essentially dark and the Israeli blockade making delivering humanitarian aid even more challenging, those who have family in Gaza are left watching from afar, feeling powerless as their families struggle to find safety.

"It’s just too traumatic for me right now to see American citizens who, even predating this, have the privilege and the access to my country that my husband, a Palestinian whose own parents and grandparents were forced to flee from their homes, doesn’t enjoy," said El-Haddad, the author in Maryland.

Othman and her family traveled from the suburbs of Chicago to Gaza this summer — a process she described as mentally, physically and bureaucratically difficult. Othman’s extended family lives in the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territory of the West Bank, but her husband’s family is in Gaza. If she wanted to visit her family in the West Bank, she’d have to go without her husband, who, like most people with a Gaza ID, cannot travel to the West Bank under the Israeli occupation.

"My family in the West Bank was only about 40 miles (64 km) away from me when I was in Gaza," Othman said. "But the amount of effort it would have taken to get to them just wouldn’t have worked."

Several years ago, during more peaceful times, Nahed Elrayes and his father tried for days to enter Gaza from Tel Aviv to catch his terminally ill grandmother’s final moments.

"The Israelis simply would not let us enter Gaza," he said. On the third day of trying, Elrayes’ grandmother passed away and the Israeli forces finally allowed them entry to attend the funeral services.

"I will never forget being with my father that day," Elrayes said. "There is no respect for our humanity."

The story of so many Palestinian Americans is one of longing, loss and a sense that their history is being erased. Many Palestinian families are shaped by the history of becoming refugees relatively recently. Gaza is, in part, so densely populated today because of the mass exodus of Palestinians from what is now Israel during the 1948 war surrounding its creation.

It’s the echoes of the 1948 Nakba, or "catastrophe" that haunt AbuLughod and his family — refugees originally from the Palestinian town Yaffa, now Jaffa, Israel — as they watch the scenes of mass evacuation playing out from Gaza this week. The fear is that Palestinians in Gaza, like those who were forced to leave their homes in 1948, will never be able to return. For so many Palestinians who have experienced the loss of their land and homes, identity is all they have left.

"What’s heaviest at the moment is that the world is going to watch a group of people be killed mercilessly and pushed out, in real time, and believe it to be right and OK and just," said Amirah AbuLughod, Mohammad’s daughter.

To cope with the dire outlook, Hani Almadhoun said he and his fellow Palestinian American colleagues at UNRWA USA are pouring themselves into their work supporting the UN agency for Palestinian refugees, trying to provide aid to people on the ground in Gaza despite the challenges. Eleven UNRWA staff members were killed in airstrikes in Gaza this week.

"There are no heroes right now in Gaza. Everybody’s damaged. Everybody’s burying somebody," Almadhoun said. "And I hope I am wrong, but this is going to go on for a long time. A lot more people will lose their lives and then nobody’s going to be held accountable."



Gazans Struggle to Imagine Post-war Recovery

Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
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Gazans Struggle to Imagine Post-war Recovery

Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)

The sheer scale of destruction from the deadliest war in Gaza's history has made the road to recovery difficult to imagine, especially for people who had already lost their homes during previous conflicts.

After an Israeli strike levelled his family home in Gaza City in 2014, 37-year-old Mohammed Abu Sharia made good on his pledge to return to the same plot within less than a year.

The process was not perfect: the grant they received paid for only two floors instead of the original four.

But they happily called it home until it came under aerial assault again last October, following Hamas's attack on southern Israel.

This time, the family could not flee in time and five people were killed, four of them children.

The rest remain displaced nearly a year later, scattered across Gaza and in neighboring Egypt.

"A person puts all his life's hard work into building a house, and suddenly it becomes a mirage," Abu Sharia told AFP.

"If the war stops, we will build again in the same place because we have nothing else."

With bombs still raining down on Gaza, many of the Palestinian territory's 2.4 million people will face the same challenge as Abu Sharia: how to summon the resources and energy necessary for another round of rebuilding.

"The pessimism is coming from bad experiences with reconstruction in the past, and the different scale of this current destruction," said Ghassan Khatib, a former planning minister.

That has not stopped people from trying to plan ahead.

Some focus on the immediate challenges of removing rubble and getting their children back in school after nearly a year of suspended classes.

Others dream of loftier projects: building a port, a Palestinian film industry, or even recruiting a globally competitive football team.

But with no ceasefire in sight, analysts say most long-term planning is premature.

"It's sort of like putting icing on a cake that's not yet fully baked," said Brian Katulis of the Middle East Institute in Washington.

It could take 80 years to rebuild some 79,000 destroyed homes, the United Nations special rapporteur on the right to housing said in May.

A UN report in July said workers could need 15 years just to clear the rubble.

The slow responses to past Gaza wars in 2008-9, 2012, 2014 and 2021 give little reason for confidence that rebounding from this one will be any smoother, said Omar Shaban, founder of the Gaza-based think tank PalThink for Strategic Studies.

The Israeli blockade of Gaza, imposed after Hamas took control of the territory in 2007, remains firmly in place, sharply restricting access to building materials.

"People are fed up," Shaban said.

"They lost their faith even before the war."

Despite the hopelessness, Shaban is among those putting forward more imaginative strategies for Gaza's postwar future.

Earlier this year he published an article suggesting initial reconstruction work could focus on 10 neighborhoods -– one inside and one outside refugee camps in each of Gaza's five governorates.

The idea would be to ensure the benefits of reconstruction are seen across the besieged territory, he told AFP.

"I want to create hope. People need to realize that their suffering is going to end" even if not right away, he said.

"Otherwise they will become radical."

Hope is also a major theme of Palestine Emerging, an initiative that has suggested building a port on an artificial island made of war debris, a technical university for reconstruction, and a Gaza-West Bank transportation corridor.

Other proposals have included launching a tourism campaign, building a Palestinian film industry, and recruiting a football squad.

"Maybe when you look on some of these, you would think they are, you know, dreams or something," Palestine Emerging executive director Shireen Shelleh said from her office in Ramallah in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

"However, I believe if you don't dream then you cannot achieve anything. So even if some people might find it ambitious or whatever, in my opinion that's a good thing."

Khatib, the former planning minister, said it was not the time for such proposals.

"I think people should be more realistic," he said.

"The urgent aspects are medicine, food, shelter, schools."