One Year of War in Gaza: Deadliest Conflict for Reporters

 A child walks through the destruction left by the Israeli air and ground offensive on Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Thursday, Sept. 12, 2024. (AP)
A child walks through the destruction left by the Israeli air and ground offensive on Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Thursday, Sept. 12, 2024. (AP)
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One Year of War in Gaza: Deadliest Conflict for Reporters

 A child walks through the destruction left by the Israeli air and ground offensive on Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Thursday, Sept. 12, 2024. (AP)
A child walks through the destruction left by the Israeli air and ground offensive on Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Thursday, Sept. 12, 2024. (AP)

Palestinian journalist Islam al-Zaanoun was so determined to cover the war in Gaza that she went back to work two months after giving birth. But, like all journalists in Gaza, she wasn't just covering the story - she was living it.

The 34-year-old, who works for Palestine TV, gave birth to a girl in Gaza city a few weeks after the beginning of the Israeli offensive last October.

She had to have a Caesarean section as Israeli airstrikes pounded the strip. Her doctors performed the operation in the dark with only the lights on their cellphones to guide them.

The next day she went home but the day after that she had to flee the fighting, driving further south with her three children. Nine days after giving birth, she was forced to abandon her car and continue on foot.

"I had to walk eight km (five miles) to get to the south with my children," she said. "There were bodies and corpses everywhere, horrifying sight. I felt my heart was going to stop from the fear."

Just 60 days later, she got back in front of the camera to report on the war, joining the ranks of Palestinian journalists who have provided the world's only window on the conflict in the absence of international media, who have not been granted free access by Israeli authorities.

"Correspondents have reporting in their blood, they don't learn it, so they cannot be far from the coverage too long," al-Zaanoun told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.

As of Oct. 4, at least 127 journalists and media workers had been killed since the conflict began, according to the US-based Committee to Protect Journalists.

This has made the past year the deadliest period on record for journalists since the press watchdog started keeping records in 1992.

Press freedom advocacy group Reporters Without Borders has recorded more than 130 Palestinian journalists killed in Gaza in the past year, including at least 32 media workers who it says were directly targeted by Israel.

To date, CPJ has determined that at least five journalists were directly targeted by Israeli forces in killings which CPJ classifies as murders.

They include Reuters journalist Issam Abdallah, 37, who was killed by an Israeli tank crew in southern Lebanon last October, a Reuters investigation has found.

CPJ is still researching the details for confirmation in at least 10 other cases that indicate possible targeting.

Lieutenant Colonel Richard Hecht, the Israel Defense Forces' international spokesman, said at the time of Abdallah's killing: "We don't target journalists." He did not provide further comment.

More than 41,600 people have been killed in Gaza and almost 100,000 have been wounded since Oct. 7, according to Gaza's health ministry.

Israel launched its offensive after Hamas stormed into southern Israel, killing about 1,200 people and taking more than 250 hostage, according to Israeli tallies.

'WHERE IS THE INTERNATIONAL LAW?'

For journalists like al-Zaanoun, the challenges are not limited to staying safe while reporting. Like the rest of the 2.3 million people in the strip, media workers have been displaced multiple times, gone hungry, lacked water and shelter and mourned dead neighbors and friends.

Food is scarce, diapers are expensive, and medicine is lacking, al-Zaanoun said. As well as her professional desire to keep reporting, she needs to put food on the table because her husband has not been able to work since the war started.

"If I don't work, my kids will go hungry," she said.

Like all Gazans, she fears for her safety and does not dare defy Israeli evacuation orders.

"We had no protection really. Had we decided to stay in the northern areas that would have definitely cost us a very high price and that is what happened to our friends," she said.

The Israel-Hamas war falls under a complex international system of justice that has emerged since World War Two, much of it aimed at protecting civilians. Even if states say they are acting in self-defense, international rules regarding armed conflict apply to all participants in a war.

Article 79 of the Geneva Conventions treats journalists working in conflict settings as protected civilians if they don't engage in the fighting.

In March, senior leaders at multiple global media outlets signed a letter urging Israeli authorities to protect journalists in Gaza, saying reporters have been working in unprecedented conditions and faced "grave personal risk".

What CPJ has called "the most dangerous" war for journalists has reverberated across the world, striking fear into reporters who are concerned about the setting of deadly precedents.

Abdalle Ahmed Mumin, a veteran freelance reporter and the secretary general of the Somali Journalists Syndicate, said he had experienced violence before but was shocked by what was happening in Gaza.

"I have been targeted personally myself. I have been detained, I have been unjustly kidnapped several times," he said in an interview with the Thomson Reuters Foundation.

"I know all these things, but I haven't witnessed the kind of brutality that the journalists in Gaza have been going through."

Since 1992, 18 of Mumin's friends and colleagues have been killed in Somalia, where first warlords and later al-Qaeda-linked al Shabaab militants have caused years of conflict.

"I'm scared of being a journalist ... because of the failure of the international protection mechanisms, the failure of the international community," he said. "Where is the international law? Where is the international humanitarian law?"



'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
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'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP

When an Israeli airstrike killed her employer and destroyed nearly everything she owned in southern Lebanon, it also crushed Fatima Samuella Tholley's hopes of returning home to Sierra Leone to escape the war.

With a change of clothes stuffed into a plastic bag, the 27-year-old housekeeper told AFP that she and her cousin made their way to the capital Beirut in an ambulance.

Bewildered and terrified, the pair were thrust into the chaos of the bombarded city -- unfamiliar to them apart from the airport where they had arrived months before.

"We don't know today if we will live or not, only God knows," Fatima told AFP via video call, breaking down in tears.
"I have nothing... no passport, no documents," she said.

The cousins have spent days sheltering in the cramped storage room of an empty apartment, which they said was offered to them by a man they had met on their journey.

With no access to TV news and unable to communicate in French or Arabic, they could only watch from their window as the city was pounded by strikes.

The Israeli war on Lebanon since mid-September has killed more than 1,000 people and forced hundreds of thousands more to flee their homes, amid Israeli bombards around the country.

The situation for the country's migrant workers is particularly precarious, as their legal status is often tied to their employer under the "kafala" sponsorship system governing foreign labor.

"When we came here, our madams received our passports, they seized everything until we finished our contract" said 29-year-old Mariatu Musa Tholley, who also works as a housekeeper.

"Now [the bombing] burned everything, even our madams... only we survived".

- 'They left me' -

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon, with the aim of providing emergency travel certificates to those without passports, Kai S. Brima from the foreign affairs ministry told AFP.

The poor west African country has a significant Lebanese community dating back over a century, which is heavily involved in business and trade.

Scores of migrants travel to Lebanon every year, with the aim of paying remittances to support families back home.

"We don't know anything, any information", Mariatu said.

"[Our neighbours] don't open the door for us because they know we are black", she wept.

"We don't want to die here".

Fatima and Mariatu said they had each earned $150 per month, working from 6:00 am until midnight seven days a week.

They said they were rarely allowed out of the house.

AFP contacted four other Sierra Leonean domestic workers by phone, all of whom recounted similar situations of helplessness in Beirut.

Patricia Antwin, 27, came to Lebanon as a housekeeper to support her family in December 2021.

She said she fled her first employer after suffering sexual harassment, leaving her passport behind.

When an airstrike hit the home of her second employer in a southern village, Patricia was left stranded.

"The people I work for, they left me, they left me and went away," she told AFP.

Patricia said a passing driver saw her crying in the street and offered to take her to Beirut.

Like Fatima and Mariatu, she has no money or formal documentation.

"I only came with two clothes in my plastic bag", she said.

- Sleeping on the streets -

Patricia initially slept on the floor of a friend's apartment, but moved to Beirut's waterfront after strikes in the area intensified.

She later found shelter at a Christian school in Jounieh, some 20 kilometres (12 miles) north of the capital.

"We are seeing people moving from one place to another", she said.

"I don't want to lose my life here," she added, explaining she had a child back in Sierra Leone.

Housekeeper Kadij Koroma said she had been sleeping on the streets for almost a week after fleeing to Beirut when she was separated from her employer.

"We don't have a place to sleep, we don't have food, we don't have water," she said, adding that she relied on passers by to provide bread or small change for sustenance.

Kadij said she wasn't sure if her employer was still alive, or if her friends who had also travelled from Sierra Leone to work in Lebanon had survived the bombardment.

"You don't know where to go," she said, "everywhere you go, bomb, everywhere you go, bomb".