Human Wrongs Watch
By the Norwegian Refugee Council*
These words belong to Eman Muqbel, site management coordinator for the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) in Gaza. She and her family are among hundreds of thousands of Palestinians living under bombardment in Gaza City and being forced to flee their homes.
At the same time, the leaders of over 20 major aid agencies working in Gaza, including NRC, are calling on world leaders to urgently intervene after a UN commission concluded, for the first time, that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.
Now, as the Israeli government has ordered the mass displacement of Gaza City – home to nearly one million people – we are on the precipice of an even deadlier period in Gaza’s story if action is not taken. Gaza has been deliberately made uninhabitable.
- Over 65,000 Palestinians have now been killed, including more than 20,000 children. Thousands more are missing, buried under the rubble that has replaced Gaza’s once lively streets.
- Nine out of 10 people in Gaza’s 2.1 million population have been forcibly displaced – most of them multiple times – into increasingly shrinking pockets of land that cannot sustain human life.
- More than half a million people are starving. Famine has been declared in Gaza City and is spreading. The cumulative impact of hunger and physical deprivation means people are dying every day.
- Throughout Gaza, entire cities have been razed to the ground, along with their life-sustaining public infrastructure, such as hospitals and water treatment plants. Agricultural land has been systemically destroyed.
Together, we can save lives and help more families forced to flee.
Photo: Amjad Al Fayoumi/NRC
Despite constant bombing, blockade and multiple displacements, our NRC colleagues have stayed and delivered life-saving aid to their fellow Palestinians in Gaza. Now they are once again running for their lives, but there is no safe place to go.
Below you can read the testimonies of Eman Muqbel, NRC site management coordinator and Mohammed Aklouk, NRC shelter cluster information management coordinator.
Photo: Mahmoud Issa/REUTERS/NTB
Mohammed Aklouk:
“The street where we lived used to be considered one of the main commercial and upscale areas of Gaza City, yet it was full of tents and displaced families from Beit Hanoun and Jabalia, further north in Gaza…
… The volume of tents almost blocked the entire street. But with the intensification of bombardment everywhere as the military operation began, and with Israel demanding everyone immediately flee the city, people gradually started dismantling their already worn-out tents and leaving – some toward the western coastal strip, others toward the south…
… With each tent that was taken down, my children felt that something bad was about to happen.
My son Firas, 13, would count the tents every day and tell me how many had left. But when the bombing of multi-story buildings started, fear began to creep into my children’s hearts.
I could see it in their eyes with every explosion and each displacement of a neighbourhood block.
Firas and my daughter Toleen, 14, were constantly on their phones, following the news around the clock.
Suddenly, over the past three days, some of the nearby buildings began receiving evacuation orders before being bombed. We saw families running through the streets carrying children – men in their pyjamas and women in prayer clothes, which have become the permanent outfit for most women in Gaza.
Photo: Haitham Imad/EPA/NTB
After the first building was bombed about 300 metres away from me, the internet line supplying our service was cut. That was the first stage of suffering – we felt isolated from the world.
Then came the second strike, on a building no more than 200 metres from my home. I had no time to leave before the explosion hit. Smoke and ash from the blast entered our home.
I found my children in shock and fear unlike anything I had seen in this war so far. I tried to snap them out of it by telling them to put wet cloths over their mouths to breathe.
I carried my youngest son, Ahmed, 8, down to the street so he could get some fresh air, then took him back upstairs to wash his face with water.
We all sat together to make the final decision – whether to leave, where to go, and when. We all wept before uttering a single word about it, because leaving Gaza City feels like your soul is being torn from your body.
My children had changed their minds and wanted to leave because of their fear, but my wife still refused, hoping a ceasefire could be reached at any moment.
When you pack all your belongings by the door of your house, knowing you will never return to it again, it feels like death.
My youngest son asked me: “Dad, can we postpone leaving? Not tomorrow – maybe the day after. Today there weren’t so many nearby explosions.” He knows exactly what the journey of displacement means.
Today, we are making the journey south.
Eman Muqbel:
Photo: Amir Cohen/REUTERS/NTB
“You cannot imagine the feeling of the earth shaking under you before the sound of the explosion arrives. Like an earthquake. Imagine when it is close…
… The weapons are horrifying – shells, shrapnel, dust and ash covering huge areas. Even if they target one place, the dust spreads across whole neighbourhoods.
We are afraid to go out, even to buy food. Markets have been struck. Yesterday a high-rise building next to us was hit – dust, shells and rocks flying everywhere…
… We were terrified, but there was no safe place to go. In the last week alone, there were more than 20 explosions each day, with about 15 buildings bombed nearby. At night it is even worse. The explosions are constant and terrifying.
Two nights ago, we woke to helicopters and planes striking randomly. Bullets struck the walls. We moved away from the windows, afraid they would pierce through.
Helicopters fly so low it feels like they are inside the house. You hear the rockets launch, then the boom, and you do not know if it will hit you or someone else. This is a death threat. The intensity has increased so much in recent days. The roof almost collapsed. They say the operation to pulverise Gaza has begun. Tonight will be difficult.
Photo: Mahmoud Issa/REUTERS/NTB
I have four children. My little girl clings to my lap all the time. She asks if we will be displaced again, if we will have food, if we will sleep in the street. They think like adults. She knows the names of the weapons. She talks about towers being blown up.
If we are displaced again, it will be my tenth time in less than two years. Each time, I left with nothing. If it happens again, I will have only my clothes. I have no energy left. I cannot be displaced again.
There is no safety. If anyone hears my voice, I say: enough. We have seen death a million times. We have been displaced, killed, lost everything, lost our loved ones. No human can take this. Your child tells you they are hungry, and you cannot give them anything.
Learn more about our work in Palestine.
*SOURCE: The Norwegian Refugee Council. Go to ORIGINAL: https://www.nrc.no/feature/2025/gaza-voices-from-hell-on-earth
2025 Human Wrongs Watch
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Baher Kamal
HUMAN WRONGS WATCH 
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