For many years, whenever I went to Gaza to visit family, I passed through the Rafah crossing, the border between the besieged Gaza Strip and Egypt. And every time I breathed in the border town of Rafah, I remembered the words of my sister Taghreed: “I breathe the scent of the history of my country. » Her eyes shone with pride every time she talked about Rafah, and I share that feeling.
The history of this corridor spans thousands of years, a testament to the rich history of Palestine and its people. For millennia, Rafah has been a resting place and trading hub for caravans from all over Palestine heading to the Sinai Peninsula and then on to Egypt and Africa.
Today, a genocide is taking place in this ancient and precious city. As I witness this genocide from afar and fear what the threat of Israeli invasion would mean for the hundreds of thousands of displaced Palestinians forced to take refuge there, I feel like I am one of those souls powerless people who recognized what was happening in Srebrenia or Warsaw. Ghetto, tried to sound the alarm but could do nothing to avoid the tragedy because the world had already decided to turn a blind eye to the imminent massacre of innocents.
Since the start of this latest war on Gaza, each new phase of the Israeli attack has inflicted more suffering, pain and death on the civilian population. Displaced several times, those now in Rafah have nowhere to go. The Rafah invasion would therefore be the last and deadliest phase of this genocide – the first genocide in human history broadcast live around the world.
Unfortunately, this is not the first time that beautiful Rafah has become the scene of crimes against humanity. The border town’s recent history is a wound kept open by constant violence. The majority of Rafah’s residents, like most towns in Gaza, are descendants of those displaced during the 1948 Nakba, while others are survivors of the 1956 massacre and numerous other Israeli aggressions that followed.
My aunt Rayya, 89, a refugee from the village of Barqa, destroyed by Israel in 1948, witnessed decades of massacres, violence and oppression in this town.
In 1956, during the tripartite aggression involving Britain, France and Israel, also known as the Suez Crisis, Israel occupied the Gaza Strip for approximately four months, carrying out horrific massacres in Khan Younis and in Rafah.
On November 2, when the Israeli army occupied Khan Younis and ordered men aged 16 and over to go out and report to different locations in the city, my aunt was there visiting her family. As a young married woman of 22, she saw the Israeli army line up these men and boys against the walls and massacre them for two days.
My aunt finally decided to leave the family home with her sister’s family in search of safety. They walked to Khan Younis beach and sought shelter under the trees. They ate whatever they could find and dug holes in the ground to sleep in, find clean water and use as toilets. Despite the surrounding danger and the continued noise of bombing, Rayya, fearing for her husband’s safety, made the difficult decision to continue her journey to Rafah.
Upon arrival, Rayya realized that there had been more executions in Rafah. She couldn’t find her husband anywhere. For days, she grappled with the heartbreaking uncertainty of her fate. Fortunately, her husband had survived this wave of violence. He later died during the 1967 occupation of Gaza, killed by the Israeli army while traveling along Khan Younis beach in Rafah.
After her husband’s murder, Rayya found herself alone, a single mother, responsible for raising her five children in the squalor and squalor of the Rafah refugee camp.
In the 1970s, she was forced to seek employment in Israel’s agricultural sector, working in the fields picking tomatoes to support her family.
During the first Intifada in 1987, Rayya lost an eye while trying to save her youngest son from Israeli soldiers. She was hit in the eye by the butt of a rifle while trying to stop soldiers from taking her child.
At the start of the Second Intifada in 2000, one of his grandchildren, 13-year-old Karam, was shot in the back of the head while fleeing an Israeli army post after throwing stones at soldiers. . The unconscious child was rushed to al-Shifa hospital in Gaza City, but doctors said he had no chance of survival beyond a few hours.
Rayya and her daughter-in-law, Karam’s mother, were faced with an agonizing choice: stay in the hospital and accompany Karam in his final hours of life, or return to Rafah before the checkpoints closed to mourn his death at home with their loved ones. Unsure if they would be allowed to travel between cities in the coming days, they ultimately decided to return home without Karam’s body.
In 2004, Rafah was subjected to what Israel called Operation Rainbow, a cruelly ironic title for what was considered – at the time – the worst episode of violence the city had witnessed. . The operation resulted in the destruction of hundreds of homes across Rafah. Rayya’s house was also partially demolished during this wave of violence. Then, during the war on Gaza in 2014, Rayya lost another grandson – a brilliant engineering student, recently engaged.
Now, ten years later, Rayya is once again trying to survive Rafah’s military aggression. I haven’t been able to contact her recently, but I fear she may be displaced again, hungry, cold and terrified, digging holes in the ground to find water or go to the toilet at age 89 years.
My aunt Rayya’s story – a story of suffering and perseverance – is the story of Rafah. His story echoes the tragic stories of more than a million displaced Palestinians who were forced to seek refuge in the border town. But the story of Rafah is also that of international solidarity. Rachel Corrie, Tom Hurndall and James Miller all lost their lives at the hands of the Israeli army in Rafah while courageously taking a stand against Israel’s brutal occupation.
Rafah is now the last refuge for Palestinians in Gaza amid a still-ongoing genocide, and it is the place where the international community could and should act to prevent another Warsaw or Srebrenica.
This is the moment for all members of global civil society, all those who believe in human rights, justice and freedom for all, to denounce the deafening silence of their political leaders and to take a stand in favor of the long-suffering Palestinian people.
As the threat of a catastrophic Israeli invasion looms on the horizon in Rafah, we cannot continue to ignore the plight of Palestinian refugees, repeatedly displaced, sick, hungry and forced to resist a blatant cleansing campaign ethnic with nothing but their fragile bodies.
No one can claim ignorance of what is happening today in Rafah, in Gaza and throughout Palestine. The truth is evident in the testimonies of children who lived through the genocide, in the work of courageous journalists on the ground documenting their own massacre, in the carefully researched and researched reports of experts, academics, human rights advocates. man and international institutions. Rafah is the last opportunity for the international community to come together for peace and dignity in Palestine. It is time for Rafah to finally be truly safe and prosper. It’s time for long-term refugees like my aunt Rayya to find permanent safety and security. It is time for a ceasefire and a free Palestine.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune.
