This piece was reprinted by OpEd News with permission or license. It may not be reproduced in any form without permission or license from the source.
A local man who had accompanied us into the house pointed at the homes on the map outlined in orange, then motioned out the window to where they once stood. Every single house in that row had been obliterated by airstrikes. I looked back at the map and noticed that the dusty field we faced was labeled in Hebrew, "Soccer Field." Two areas just west of the field were marked, "T.A. South" and "T.A. North," perhaps a cryptic reference to Tel Aviv. Devised at least two days before the assault, the map sectioned Shujaiya into various areas of operation, with color-coded delineations that were impossible to decipher but suggested disturbing intentions.
Eran Efrati, a former Israeli combat soldier turned anti-occupation activist, interviewed several soldiers who participated in the assault on Shujaiya. "I can report that the official command that was handed down to the soldiers in Shujaiya was to capture Palestinian homes as outposts," Efrati wrote. "From these posts, the soldiers drew an imaginary red line, and amongst themselves decided to shoot to death anyone who crosses it. Anyone crossing the line was defined as a threat to their outposts, and was thus deemed a legitimate target. This was the official reasoning inside the units."
In the area occupied by Israeli soldiers, the killing that had previously taken place by air and distant artillery assaults took on a gruesomely intimate quality. It was there, in the ruins of their homes, that returning locals told me of the cold-blooded execution of their family members.
Massacres in Broad Daylight
At the eastern edge of the "Soccer Field" now occupied by tents and surrounded by demolished five-story apartment complexes, I met Mohammed Fathi Al Areer. A middle-aged man wearing an eyepatch, he led me through the first floor of his home, which was now a virtual cave furnished with a single sofa, then into what used to be his backyard, where the interior of his bedroom had been exposed by a tank shell. It was here, Al Areer told me, that four of his brothers were executed in cold blood. One of them, Hassan Al Areer, was mentally disabled and had little idea he was about to be killed. Mohammed Al Areer said he found bullet casings next to their heads when he discovered their decomposing bodies.
Just next door was the Shamaly family, one of the hardest hit in Shujaiya. Hesham Naser Shamaly, 25, described to me what happened when five members of his family decided to stay in their home to guard the thousands of dollars of clothing stocks they planned to sell through their family business. When soldiers approached the home with weapons drawn, Shamaly said his father emerged from the home with his hands up and attempted to address them in Hebrew.
"He couldn't even finish the sentence before they shot him," Shamaly told me. "He was only injured and fainted, but they thought he was dead so they left him there and moved on to the others. They shot the rest -- my uncle, my uncle's wife, and my two cousins -- they shot them dead."
Miraculously, Shamaly's father managed to revive himself after lying bleeding for almost three days. He walked on his own strength toward Gaza City and found medical help. "Someone called me to tell me he was alive," Shamaly said, "and I thought it was a joke."
Hesham Shamaly's 22-year-old cousin, Salem, was also executed by the Israeli soldiers who had taken up positions in the neighborhood. When Salem Shamaly returned to his neighborhood during the temporary ceasefire at 3:30pm on July 20 to search for missing family members alongside members of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), he apparently crossed the imaginary red line drawn by the soldiers. When he waded into a pile of rubble, a single shot rang out from a nearby sniper, sending his body crumpling to the ground. As he attempted to get up, another shot struck him in the chest. A third shot left his body limp.
The incident was captured on camera by a local activist named Muhammad Abedullah, then disseminated across the world by the ISM. Israeli military spokespeople were strangely silent. Back in Gaza City, where survivors of the Shamaly family had taken shelter in a relative's apartment, Salem Shamaly's sister and cousin received an emailed link to the video.
Over the next three minutes, they watched Salem die. They knew it was him because they recognized the sound of his voice as he cried out for help.
Despair and Resistance
In an apartment on Remad Street in Gaza City, I met the parents, siblings and cousins of Salem Shamaly. They had been forced to relocate here after their home was completely obliterated by Israeli tank shells and drone strikes in Shujaiya. The apartment was crowded but impeccably clean. It was a more desirable arrangement than one of the UN schools where most of their neighbors lodged in squalid conditions with little to no privacy, though no less an indignity.
Salem Shamaly's father, 62-year-old Khalil, said the family evacuated Shujaiya at 8am. As soon as they reached safety, they realized Salem was missing. "It's impossible to put into words how difficult it was," Khalil Shamaly said. "We waited for two or three days not knowing and when we found out, it was too difficult to handle. I have had to call on God and he helped me."
The attacks on Shujaiya continued for days, making it impossible for the Shamaly family to retrieve Salem's body. They beseeched the ICRC for help but after so many attacks on their vehicles from the Israeli army, which had declared all of Shujaiya a "closed military zone," they were unwilling to approach the area. Salem's father, Khalil, still believes his son might have been saved if he was evacuated right away.
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
1
1
1
