Graves on Top of Graves… Undertakers in Gaza Are Exhausted

Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
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Graves on Top of Graves… Undertakers in Gaza Are Exhausted

Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP

More than 10 months into the Gaza war, so many bodies are arriving at Al-Soueid cemetery in Gaza’s Deir el-Balah that gravediggers are forced to build graves on top of other graves.

Undertakers are working like bricklayers in the cemetery, piling cinder blocks into tight rectangles, side by side, for freshly dug graves.

Leading his team of gravediggers, Saadi Hassan Barakeh, 63, now handles Al-Soueid cemetery, with its 5.5 hectares of graves. Previously, he also oversaw burials at the nearby Ansar cemetery, which covers 3.5 hectares. But now “the Ansar cemetery is completely full,” he told AFP.

The two cemeteries are located in the city of Deir el-Balah in the center of the Gaza Strip that has been bombarded by Israel for more than ten months after Hamas launched the unprecedented October 7 attack in Israel.

“Before the war, we had one or two funerals per week, maximum five,” Barakeh says, wearing a white prayer cap that matches his long beard.

“Now, there are weeks when I bury 200 to 300 people. It's unbelievable.”

Yet even with one cemetery instead of two, Barakeh said he works “every day, from six in the morning to six in the evening.”

Piles of Martyrs

Barakeh, leading his team of gravediggers, says “The cemetery is so full that we now dig graves on top of other graves, we've piled the dead in levels.”

Barakeh has been burying the dead for 28 years. In “all the wars in Gaza,” he says he has “never seen crimes like this.”

Barakeh bears daily witness to the tragedies. Hoe in hand, he gives encouragement to his 12 workers as they prepare and close dozens of graves every day.

At night, however, some images are hard to forget.

“I can't sleep after seeing so many mangled children's bodies and dead women,” he told AFP, adding: “I buried 47 women from the Tabatibi family, including 16 who were pregnant. What crime have these women committed?”

The October 7 Hamas attack which triggered the war resulted in the deaths of 1,198 people, mostly civilians, according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.

Israel’s retaliatory military offensive has killed at least 40,005 people in Gaza, according to the Hamas-run health ministry.

“I buried a lot of women and children, and only two or three guys from Hamas,” says Barakeh.

‘Why the children?’

If Israelis “have a problem with (Yahya) Sinwar and with (Ismail) Haniyeh, why do they harm children?” he adds angrily.

Barakeh is convinced that the Israelis want to eliminate the entire Palestinian people.

Graves with white headstones fill nearly all the available space, while men dig new holes in the few vacant areas.

The team forms a human chain to carry the cinder blocks, whose price has soared since Gaza’s factories closed due to a lack of fuel and raw materials.

“One shekel ($0.27) before the war, 10 or 12 today,” he lamented.

Besides gravediggers and the workers carrying cinder blocks, hardly anyone comes to funerals anymore, Barakeh says.

“Before the war, there were sometimes 1,000 people at one funeral; today there are days when we bury 100 people and there aren’t even 20 to lay them to rest.”

High above his head, the constant hum of an Israeli surveillance drone serves as a reminder of the aerial threat creating a steady stream of bodies.



Newborn Twins Killed in Gaza Strike While Father Registered Birth

Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
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Newborn Twins Killed in Gaza Strike While Father Registered Birth

Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)

Mohammed Abu al-Qumsan had just collected the birth certificates of his three-day-old twins when he received the news: his Gaza apartment had been bombed, killing the babies and their mother.

Footage of a distraught Abu al-Qumsan, weeping and falling as he still holds the birth certificates, has been widely circulated on social media, becoming the latest emblem of the devastating toll of the war in the Palestinian territory.

"I was in the hospital at the time when the house was targeted," he says, tears streaming down his face.

"There was a call, after the birth certificates were printed.

"The caller asked, 'Are you okay and where are you?' I told them I was at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, and I was told that my house had been bombed."

Abu al-Qumsan had left his wife, the infants and his mother-in-law in the fifth-floor flat they shared in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, which has been relentlessly bombed by Israeli forces.

"I was informed that they are in Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital and I told them I am at the entrance to the hospital," he says.

"I went inside the hospital with the birth certificates in my hands... and they told me they are in the morgue."

On Wednesday, with his home obliterated and his family gone, Abu al-Qumsan folded unused pink and yellow baby clothes outside a blue tent in Al-Mawasi, a coastal area that Israel has declared a humanitarian zone.

He never got the chance to show his wife that their babies had been legally named: Aser, the boy, and Aysal, the girl.

"On the same day I obtained their birth certificates, I also had to submit their death certificates, for my children, and also for their mother."

"I did not get the chance to celebrate their arrival. Their clothes are new, they did not wear them," he says, also showing a half-full pack of nappies.

"These nappies, we had a hard time finding them. For three months, we have been trying to buy some" in the Gaza Strip, where there has been a dire shortage of basic supplies since the start of the war.

- 'Living in terror' -

The Gaza war began with Hamas's October 7 attack on southern Israel which resulted in the deaths of 1,198 people, mostly civilians, according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.

Fighters also seized 251 people, 111 of whom are still held captive in Gaza, including 39 the military says are dead.

Israel's retaliatory military offensive in Gaza has killed at least 39,965 people, according to a toll from the territory's health ministry, which does not provide a breakdown of civilian and militant deaths.

Abu al-Qumsan married his wife Jumana, a pharmacist, in July last year, before the war plunged their lives into chaos.

She endured a traumatic pregnancy as they fled from place to place to escape the bombardments. Despite carrying twins, she insisted on volunteering in hospitals until the seventh month.

"Since the beginning of the war, I have been afraid every day, living in terror, and I was afraid that she would miscarry," Abu al-Qumsan says.

"We lost friends, family, and people who were very dear to us," he adds.

"We were in a lot of pain, we were very scared. We ran a lot."

"I want to know why she was killed in this way. I want to know why she was targeted. In the house, in a safe area," he says.

"There was no prior warning of the bombing of the house. I have nothing to do with military action. We are civilians."