Amal Shabat is delusional in pain.
She cries, always unable to understand that her 23 -year -old son was killed by Israel, just as he always said that he would die – a “martyr” who sacrificed himself to ensure that the world knew what was going on in Gaza.
She tries the words arrogantly: “My son is a martyr, Houssam … My son is a hero.”
Hossam Shabat, journalist of Tel Aviv Tribune Mubasher, was killed by Israel in a targeted strike on his vehicle on Monday.
Mother’s pain
Amal is in the “Dar Azaa” of Hossam (House of Condolences), a space open to what people come to pay tribute to the family.
Sitting among relatives, she broke down and lower her head on a shoulder to cry. Women do their best to comfort her, telling her that Hossam died a hero, loved by everyone.
In addition to his journalistic work, Hossam used his movements and connections to provide humanitarian assistance to people in need who could not access it, says his family.
“He appeared in people ‘dreams,” said Amal’s sister. “He was radiant, like a husband.”
In moments of great pain, turning to such omens is supposed to bring a certain relief to bereaved.
Refuse to leave the north
Amal and Mahmoud, brother of Hossam, 28, speak to Tel Aviv Tribune Mubasher, alternating between resignation and tears.
Amal tries to paint a painting of the son whom she returned north of Gaza to be close, to lose him against an Israeli attack.
“When we were moved to the south, he walked with us halfway, but did not want to start from here. During the whole time we were in Nuseirat (in the center of Gaza), I would call him and the supplid to come, but he refused.”
Mahmoud says that Hossam was determined to document Israel’s attacks in northern Gaza because he knew that without coverage, violence would be brushed under the carpet. And that’s why Hossam stayed in the North, he said.
Finally, after a ceasefire at the end of January, the family was able to return to Gaza City to find Hossam. But, says Amal, even then, it was difficult to spend time with him and she found herself to go wherever he worked.
“” What are you doing here, mom? ” He asked me when I went to find him, ”she says. “I replied that I was right there to see him, to spend a little time with him.”
Knowing that he would die
At the start of the war, Hossam had started to tell his family that he knew that Israel would kill him, but that he thought he was his duty to continue to do what he was doing.
“He knew, he knew that to be a journalist in Gaza, to tell the truth, meant that he would be killed,” said Mahmoud, adding that Hossam had been threatened before and had already escaped being killed once.
Watching her son rushing to danger was not easy for Amal, she said. “Whenever someone called him, every time someone said something happened somewhere, he was flying, he was like a bird.
“Wherever there was destruction, wherever there was death, he went there. I was afraid, I told him to stay back, to stay away from the danger.
“But he replied:” Mother, it is written, even if I was at home, if you hid me in your arms, they would kill me.
“I’m a martyr, I know,” he told me. I just think of me as being far away in a trip. »»
And so she would wait for him, she said, waiting to hear every morning if he was fine or if he had been killed. She quickly feared the sound of the ringing phones, fearing that they bring bad news.
The heart of a child
The colleagues of Hospals spoke to the Arab site of Tel Aviv Tribune on a character larger than life, full of love, joy and always willing to help.
“Hossam touched the pain of people, with his camera and his voice. People in shelters and tents, he was completely in line with their sufferings and they loved it and followed it,” said Mohamed du Quraiqaa d’Tel Aviv Tribune.
“He was still there – during the trips, under the Israeli bombing and faced with death.”
So much so that his journalist friend Youssef Fares said that even other journalists were trying to relax, to be more prudent when he continued to move forward.
“Hossam was very innocent, his heart was … of a big child. But he was so impulsive that he went too far.
“We were retiring when the bombing became too much, but it was getting closer to cover it. We were often afraid for him. “
‘At least I could bury it’
When Mahmoud begins to speak, his eyes are red and his voice is moderate.
“Hossam meant the whole truth. He wanted to transmit this to the world, ”he says. “He would always say, always:” the coverage will continue. This will continue even if the price is death. “”
Mahmoud breaks down, his words choked as he looks on the side, trying not to cry.
“If a massacre occurs and no one documents it, it is as if it never happened,” he said with Ardente, his trembling lips.
“Someone had to do it, and Hossam was this hero. No matter how many times we told him that he had done enough, he kept telling us that he could not stop and even if he was doing it, the (Israeli) occupation would never forgive him for having been a journalist.”
Hossam’s family was worried during her trip, so much so that their conversation often turned to try to understand what they would do if Hospals was killed during their absence.
“We were talking about and we wondered how …” Mahmoud’s words fled in a breath out of breath while he was trying to stop crying. “… how we organize a” dar azaa “for Houssam if we had to do it in the tent camp.
“But, in the end, God was nice. Nice enough to allow us to come back and be with him for 30, 40 days, although we have barely seen him.
“I thanked God that I was here, that I could walk in his funeral procession and bury him … At least that.
“Imagine this – by thanking God that you were there when your brother died and you were able to bury him.”