Gaza Journalists Both Witnesses and Victims of War

 A mourner reacts as Palestinians attend the funeral of Al Jazeera cameraman Samer Abu Daqqa, who according to the Arabic broadcaster was killed by an Israeli drone strike on Friday while reporting on the earlier bombing of a school sheltering displaced people but Israel's military did not respond to a request for comment, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip December 16, 2023. (Reuters)
A mourner reacts as Palestinians attend the funeral of Al Jazeera cameraman Samer Abu Daqqa, who according to the Arabic broadcaster was killed by an Israeli drone strike on Friday while reporting on the earlier bombing of a school sheltering displaced people but Israel's military did not respond to a request for comment, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip December 16, 2023. (Reuters)
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Gaza Journalists Both Witnesses and Victims of War

 A mourner reacts as Palestinians attend the funeral of Al Jazeera cameraman Samer Abu Daqqa, who according to the Arabic broadcaster was killed by an Israeli drone strike on Friday while reporting on the earlier bombing of a school sheltering displaced people but Israel's military did not respond to a request for comment, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip December 16, 2023. (Reuters)
A mourner reacts as Palestinians attend the funeral of Al Jazeera cameraman Samer Abu Daqqa, who according to the Arabic broadcaster was killed by an Israeli drone strike on Friday while reporting on the earlier bombing of a school sheltering displaced people but Israel's military did not respond to a request for comment, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip December 16, 2023. (Reuters)

Journalists in the Gaza Strip are paying a heavy price to cover the war between Israel and Hamas, with scores already killed and injured.

Those surviving face constant danger from the relentless Israeli bombardment of the Palestinian territory, as well as grappling with communications difficulties, concern for their families and shortages of basic goods.

"Our work is to document the war, to let the world know what is happening," Gazan journalist Hind Khoudary told AFP.

But they know it comes at a cost. On Friday, Al Jazeera cameraman Samer Abu Daqqa became the latest fatality -- killed while reporting in southern Gaza.

More journalists have been killed in the Gaza war over such a short period than in any other conflict in at least 30 years, said media watchdog Reporters Without Borders (RSF).

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, at least 64 media professionals -- including journalists, photographers, cameramen, technicians and drivers -- have been killed, most in Gaza, since Hamas militants stormed across the border into Israel on October 7.

Each day is "a question of life or death," said Palestinian photojournalist Motaz Azaiza.

Some have died in bombardments, at home with their families. Others have died while practicing their profession.

Three journalists were killed in Lebanon amid hostilities with Hezbollah along Israel's northern border, and four Israeli media workers were killed during the Hamas attack on their kibbutz.

According to an AFP tally based on the latest official Israeli figures, some 1,140 people were killed in southern Israel that day, and around 250 taken hostage and dragged back to Gaza.

Vowing to wipe out Hamas, Israel has kept up a relentless bombardment of Gaza which has so far killed more than 19,400 people, according to the Hamas-run health ministry.

Forced to flee

Like some 1.9 million Gazans, Khoudary has had to flee south, leaving behind her office and her home -- "a piece of my heart", she said.

She set out first for the Al-Shifa hospital, where thousands sought refuge, then trekked to Rafah on the closed southern border with Egypt. But she has never stopped documenting "the horrors" of the war.

What is happening in Gaza is "the suffocation of journalism," said Jonathan Dagher, head of RSF for the Middle East.

Even before the war erupted, journalists had a tough time in Gaza under the rule of Hamas, which gained control of the territory in 2007.

"Under Hamas, doing journalism has changed significantly from the situation under the Palestinian Authority" which is less restrictive, said Adel Zaanoun, a journalist with AFP for nearly 30 years.

"Hamas usually doesn't object to coverage of Israeli military operations, but completely banned any coverage of its own military activities, including of military posts, weapons and tunnels."

The group, considered a terrorist organization by the United States, the European Union and Israel, "has also banned any coverage of corruption in their government", and its "security forces do not condone any criticism on social media".

Since the fighting began, Rami Abu Jamus, a journalist and fixer for numerous French outlets, has been documenting life in Gaza -- "a duty" he calls it.

Losing loved ones

In between videos of bodies and pleas from the wounded, there are others when he plays with his daughter coaxing a smile from her.

Followed by more than 17 million people, photojournalist Azaiza also captures in his pictures and livestreams the distress of the displaced, as well as his own "despair".

Both witness and participant, he has also pulled bodies from the rubble or transported injured children to hospital.

All of the journalists AFP interviewed -- including two working with the agency -- have buried a loved one, relative or friend since the start of the war.

Sometimes tragedy strikes at work. While live on camera, Al Jazeera's Gaza bureau chief Wael al-Dahdouh learned of the death of his wife and two children in an Israeli strike.

"My greatest fear was never doing my job, but rather losing my loved ones," he told AFP.

On Friday, Dahdouh was also wounded in the arm during the same strike that killed cameraman Abu Daqqa.

During the war Palestinian journalists "have experienced a life of displacement, homelessness, and forced relocation," Dahdouh added.

'Open the doors'

Since the war began, RSF has decried the "inability of Israel to protect the reporters on the ground, who have no safe refuge".

And while everyone in Gaza is suffering from a lack of fuel, food and water, journalists are in desperate need of electricity to charge phones, cameras and computers.

The grid is often down, and communications frequently cut.

"In cutting off the internet, the Israeli authorities are preventing journalists from working. It's a blow to the right to information," said RSF's Dagher.

Journalists have had to resort to ingenious methods to keep working - filing from rooftops to capture a signal amid frequent telecommunications blackouts.

RSF has urged authorities to "open the doors" of the Rafah border crossing, controlled by Egypt, so "journalists can finally come and go on either side of the border".

After 73 days of war, AFP's Zaanoun is exhausted. His only wish is to "get my family to safety".



Bittersweet Return for Syrians with Killed, Missing Relatives 

Syrian activist and former refugee Wafa Mustafa shows a picture of her missing father Ali on her phone after attending a demonstration in Damascus on January 1, 2025. (AFP)
Syrian activist and former refugee Wafa Mustafa shows a picture of her missing father Ali on her phone after attending a demonstration in Damascus on January 1, 2025. (AFP)
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Bittersweet Return for Syrians with Killed, Missing Relatives 

Syrian activist and former refugee Wafa Mustafa shows a picture of her missing father Ali on her phone after attending a demonstration in Damascus on January 1, 2025. (AFP)
Syrian activist and former refugee Wafa Mustafa shows a picture of her missing father Ali on her phone after attending a demonstration in Damascus on January 1, 2025. (AFP)

Wafa Mustafa had long dreamed of returning to Syria but the absence of her father tarnished her homecoming more than a decade after he disappeared in Bashar al-Assad's jails.

Her father Ali, an activist, is among the tens of thousands killed or missing in Syria's notorious prison system, and whose relatives have flocked home in search of answers after Assad's toppling last month by opposition forces.

"From December 8 until today, I have not felt any joy," said Mustafa, 35, who returned from Berlin.

"I thought that once I got to Syria, everything would be better, but in reality everything here is so very painful," she said. "I walk down the street and remember that I had passed by that same corner with my dad" years before.

Since reaching Damascus she has scoured defunct security service branches, prisons, morgues and hospitals, hoping to glean any information about her long-lost father.

"You can see the fatigue on people's faces" everywhere, said Mustafa, who works as a communications manager for the Syria Campaign, a rights group.

In 2021, she was invited to testify at the United Nations about the fate of Syria's disappeared.

The opposition who toppled Assad freed thousands of detainees nearly 14 years into a civil war that killed more than 500,000 people and displaced millions.

Mustafa returned to Branch 215, one of Syria's most notorious prisons run by military intelligence, where she herself had been detained simply for participating in pro-democracy protests in 2011.

She found documents there mentioning her father. "That's already a start," Mustafa said.

Now, she "wants the truth" and plans to continue searching for answers in Syria.

"I only dream of a grave, of having a place to go to in the morning to talk to my father," she said. "Graves have become our biggest dream".

- A demand for justice -

In Damascus, Mustafa took part in a protest demanding justice for the disappeared and answers about their fate.

Youssef Sammawi, 29, was there too. He held up a picture of his cousin, whose arrest and beating in 2012 prompted Sammawi to flee for Germany.

A few years later, he identified his cousin's corpse among the 55,000 images by a former military photographer codenamed "Caesar", who defected and made the images public.

The photos taken between 2011 and 2013, authenticated by experts, show thousands of bodies tortured and starved to death in Syrian prisons.

"The joy I felt gave way to pain when I returned home, without being able to see my cousin," Sammawi said.

He said his uncle had also been arrested and then executed after he went to see his son in the hospital.

"When I returned, it was the first time I truly realized that they were no longer there," he said with sadness in his voice.

"My relatives had gotten used to their absence, but not me," he added. "We demand that justice be served, to alleviate our suffering."

While Assad's fall allowed many to end their exile and seek answers, others are hesitant.

Fadwa Mahmoud, 70, told AFP she has had no news of her son and her husband, both opponents of the Assad government arrested upon arrival at Damascus airport in 2012.

She fled to Germany a year later and co-founded the Families For Freedom human rights group.

She said she has no plans to return to Syria just yet.

"No one really knows what might happen, so I prefer to stay cautious," she said.

Mahmoud said she was disappointed that Syria's new authorities, who pledged justice for victims of atrocities under Assad's rule, "are not yet taking these cases seriously".

She said Syria's new leader Ahmed al-Sharaa "has yet to do anything for missing Syrians", yet "met Austin Tice's mother two hours" after she arrived in the Syrian capital.

Tice is an American journalist missing in Syria since 2012.

Sharaa "did not respond" to requests from relatives of missing Syrians to meet him, Mahmoud said.

"The revolution would not have succeeded without the sacrifices of our detainees," she said.