Shehab, 19, stands in the Rafah, Gaza Strip, unsure of whether the camera will hurt him or whether he wants to share his suffering.>>>READ FULL ARTICLES HERE
He starts, “My name is Shehab Omar Abu al-Hanud.” “My mom passed away.” Ghada Youssef Ahmed Abu al-Hanud is her name.
He has uneven teeth, sparse facial hair, and a prominent Adam’s apple that he hasn’t yet grown into. He is extremely thin and just out of boyhood. As he says the line that is the purpose of this interview, his gaze flits.
The Last Farewell, translated
Last Monday, a picture and video of Shehab clinging to his mother’s shrouded body in Rafah while oblivious to the blood seeping through the sheath went viral on social media.
He held her tightly for more than an hour while remaining motionless and deeply shocked.
The Last Farewell was written after thousands of people were moved by his loss and suffering. His frantic embrace, set to heartbreaking music, was quickly captured in a painting and video.
Shehab
Shehab was well-cared for by his mother, Ghada, and both his hair and clothes are neatly cut.
He is obviously attempting to be “grown-up” and restrain his emotions, but as soon as he starts to describe losing his mother, that effort becomes apparent.
Even before he expresses to Al Jazeera how much she means to him and the rest of the family, it is clear how deeply attached to her she is.
He said, “She was everything to me.” She was my sister, friend, and mother. Without her, life is meaningless.
Without my mother, Ramadan is approaching. Eid followed by my mother’s absence. Nobody is able to understand what I’m experiencing.
I am entitled to a mother and the right to live with her.
He described Ghada as “an angel in human form” who was always available to assist those in need, content to do so in silence and without expecting anything in return.
Shehab is still unable to comprehend how this angel was taken from them, so submitting to God’s will and keeping in mind that God only chooses the good is of little comfort to him.
While speaking to Al Jazeera, he struggles to control his tears as his hazel eyes fill and clear.
Ghada
In the building where 45 people were taking refuge that night, Ghada was the only fatality.
She had been staying with her parents in Tal as – Sultan up until a few days prior to the attack, but she had returned to Rafah to visit her husband and kids.
Shehab and his younger brother were dozing off on a mattress on the floor in the same room as their parents.
When the first strike occurred, Shehab was awake, scrolling through his phone, and landing behind the house to strike the mosque there. He had not yet fallen asleep.
Everyone stood up and quickly left the room. His mother, however, paused because she needed to cover herself before leaving the house with her isdal prayer robe.
Before another strike struck and debris began to fall on everyone, she had barely had time to pull the robe over her head.
Shehab’s brief moment of hope that she had escaped was quickly dashed when they discovered Ghada underneath a wardrobe that had fallen on top of her.
We begged her to speak to us by calling her name repeatedly, but she was unable to do so. Shehab claimed that she had suffered severe injuries.
To get Ghada to the hospital, his father lifted her onto his shoulder, but they made sure to stop at the door and cover her with the robe.
Despite the hospital’s overflow of injured patients, they were eventually able to transport her to the tent where they received medical attention using a stretcher.
After giving her a quick glance, the in-charge doctor advised them to move her to the tent where the bodies of the deceased were because there was no hope for her. Even though Ghada was still breathing, the doctor appeared to have made the difficult choice to preserve the hospital’s resources for a survivor.
When the doctor finally gave in and ordered her to be taken back to the treatment tent and given intravenous fluids and oxygen, the family resisted, protesting and pushing. She was able to survive for another 40 minutes while gazing longingly at her family.
Shehab stayed with his mother until “she left, her soul went to God’s mercy,” praying over her, holding her close, and whispering in her ear.
Displacement
On Shuhada Street in Gaza City, the Abu al-Hanuds once resided.
They had been forced by the fighting to first reach Rafah and then the Nuseirat refugee camp.
When they first arrived in Nuseirat, they had hoped to return to Shuhada Street, but when they learned that everyone was moving south, the situation remained terrifying.
They then made their way to Rafah.
When Shehab thinks back to when they were told Rafah would be a secure location, his face contorts.>>>READ FULL ARTICLES HERE
