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
TT

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.



Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
TT

Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.

In the final installment of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, Jamal Mustafa Sultan, a former Iraqi official and Saddam Hussein’s son-in-law, delves into his arrest, the collapse of hopes for resistance against US forces, and the turmoil that followed the American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

Mustafa faced a harsh journey during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. He traveled to rally tribal leaders to defend Baghdad, only to return and find the city occupied. Declared a fugitive, his face appeared on the US “most-wanted” playing cards.

Mustafa fled to Syria but was denied asylum and sent back to Iraq, where he was arrested. Accused of leading resistance and car bombings, the court found no evidence to convict him.

In 2011, a judge offered him release in exchange for a bribe, which Mustafa could not afford. His proposal to sell family land to pay was rejected, leaving him imprisoned for another decade. He was eventually freed over lack of evidence.

A US soldier watches the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in Baghdad on April 7, 2003. (Reuters)

After his release, Mustafa went to Erbil, where Kurdish leader Masoud Barzani invited him for a meeting. Barzani welcomed him warmly and asked how he could help. Mustafa requested assistance in obtaining a passport, praising Barzani’s generosity.

Mustafa shared that Saddam respected Barzani, once calling him a “tough but honorable opponent.” He also revealed that, before the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, Barzani had assured Saddam that Kurdish forces would not fight the Iraqi army.

Recalling the lead-up to the war, Mustafa said Saddam tasked him with reconnecting with tribal leaders to encourage them to resist the invasion.

He delivered personal messages from Saddam, along with financial support, to help tribes host Iraqi soldiers stationed nearby. Mustafa later traveled to the Anbar province to rally tribes and bring them to defend Baghdad.

This account offers a rare glimpse into the behind-the-scenes efforts to resist the US invasion and the complex relationships that shaped Iraq’s history.

As the US invasion loomed, Mustafa met with thousands of tribal leaders to rally support for Baghdad’s defense.

“During the war, I met with over 4,500 tribal sheikhs from across Iraq,” he said. But when he returned to Baghdad after a trip to Anbar, everything had changed. “The city had fallen, and everything was in chaos.”

Mustafa tried to locate his associates but found no one. On April 11, 2003, he sent his driver to search for allies.

By chance, his brother, Lt. Gen. Kamal Mustafa, located him. “He told me we needed to leave Baghdad. I hadn’t planned to leave, but he convinced me it was the logical choice—we had no weapons, no men, and no resources. Staying would only mean capture.”

The brothers fled to Ramadi, where tribal leaders offered them refuge, and from there, they attempted to seek asylum in Syria. After just two days, Syrian authorities sent them back to Iraq.

Back in Baghdad, Mustafa and Khalid Najm, Iraq’s last intelligence chief, stayed with a university friend, Dr. Hafidh Al-Dulaimi. While there, Al-Dulaimi’s nephew suggested surrendering to Ahmed Chalabi’s forces, but Mustafa refused.

Saddam Hussein meets with top members of his regime. (Getty Images)

Shortly after, armed men stormed the house. “They came with tanks and masks,” Mustafa recalled. He and Najm were arrested on April 21, 2003—a day he will never forget.

Mustafa shared his experiences in US detention after his capture. “The interrogations were relentless, often involving psychological and physical pressure,” he added.

“They focused on weapons of mass destruction—’did Iraq have them, and where were they?’ Everyone faced the same questions. They also asked about US pilot Michael Scott Speicher, whose plane was shot down during the Gulf War. Though his remains were later found, the Americans kept questioning us, believing more was being hidden.”

Life in the detention center was highly controlled. Detainees were grouped in blocks of seven and given 30 minutes of outdoor time. Sultan recalled a chilling moment when Ahmed Hussein, Saddam’s office chief, told him during exercise: “The president has been captured.”

“We had clung to hope that Saddam’s freedom could lead to Iraq’s liberation,” Mustafa said. “His arrest shattered that hope and signaled the occupation’s permanence.”

He also described mysterious construction in the prison. “We saw carpenters working constantly. Eventually, they built a wooden barrier, blocking the corridor from view. We could only guess what it was for.”

When asked if Saddam had led the resistance before his capture, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, the resistance began after the war. It wasn’t planned in advance because, at that time, the focus was purely military—army against army.”

“After the occupation, a new phase started. Battles unfolded in stages, and Saddam was leading the resistance during this one. He was the hope of the resistance, of the Iraqi people, and of Arabs and Muslims,” Mustafa revealed.

His remarks offer a glimpse into the post-invasion dynamics and the symbolic role Saddam played during Iraq’s turbulent transition.

Mustafa also recounted the difficulty of reaching his family after his arrest.

“After my capture, I lost all contact with my family. I didn’t have any phone numbers for my brothers, friends, or colleagues. Even if I had, phone lines had been disrupted—many exchanges had been bombed, and communication in Iraq was severely impacted,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Mustafa recalled an encounter with the International Red Cross during his detention.

Saddam Hussein and his daughter Hala. (Courtesy of the family)

“The Red Cross offered me the chance to write a message to my family, as is their usual practice. But I was at a loss—who could I write to? I had no idea where my brothers or family were. I didn’t know anything about their whereabouts.”

Then, Mustafa had an idea. “I thought of Ammo Baba, a well-known football coach in Iraq. I didn’t know his address, but I remembered the address of the Police Club, where I had been president. I decided to write the letter there, addressed to Ammo Baba, asking him to pass it on to my family.”

Mustafa’s story highlights the communication challenges and isolation faced by detainees during the Iraq War.

He then described the prolonged separation from his family following his arrest. “I had no hopes of hearing from my family when I sent my letter through Ammo Baba,” Mustafa said.

“The situation was too difficult. After two and a half to three months, I received a response from Ammo Baba. He sent his regards, inquired about my health, and included a message from Yassin, a coach who worked with me. Along with the letter, they sent me sportswear—a shirt and shorts.”

Mustafa’s communication with his family may have been limited, but the letter served as a lifeline.

“A couple of years later, I received the first message from my wife, Hala, after two years in detention.”

Jamal Mustafa Sultan with his children.

When asked if he had been separated from his family for 18 years, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, I hadn’t seen them or my children for 18 and a half years.”

“There were no visits or conversations, except for a brief period when we were held by the Americans. During that time, they allowed us five minutes a week to speak with our families. I would split the time—two and a half minutes with my mother and siblings, and the rest with my wife and daughters,” he said.

However, he revealed that after 2010, communication was cut off entirely.

“When we were transferred to Iraqi custody, they stopped allowing any contact. I was careful not to make calls with the Iraqis, as I feared enemies or foreign agents could record them,” explained Mustafa.

Mustafa’s story underscores the isolation he endured and the limited means of contact with his loved ones during years of detention.