A team from Gaza Community Mental Health Programme visited the house of a child (Mohammed) in order to offer condolences and psychological support for his parents. Mohammed’s mother Iman, 21, sat between her mother-in-law and her husband’s aunt amidst the rubble of her house.
Describing in a tear-choked voice what happened on the fateful day her son died, Iman, who did not enter her own bedroom since the bombing of the nearby Interior Ministry’s building last February, said: “I cannot believe Mohammed is dead… his voice still echoes in my ears. I wake up at night to the sound of him crying. I imagine him in front of me all the time.”
Mohammed was born on August 25, 2007. His family was so happy, for he came after five years of continuous attempts at conception. Every movement he made and every sound was observed with excitement. “I’ve hidden many things for Mohammed for when he grows up. I gathered pens for him to write with in school. I collected many toys. Just days ago I bought him a box of biscuits, from which he ate only one piece. For the last two months the occupation army has banned many things to enter Gaza, including milk. He cried everyday because my breastfeeding was not enough. I will never forget those days.”
“We used to be over-protective of Mohammed. There are eleven individuals living in the house. We never left him alone. If I went to the bathroom one of his aunts or uncles or his grandmother would look after him… He never slept at night except in my arms,” Iman recollected.
During the night, just before the house was bombed, Mohammed woke up crying. His mother breastfed him until he returned to sleep. “He slept on my arms, and I wanted to lay him next to me. Suddenly the whole place shook as if struck by an earthquake.” Three missiles hit the area, plunging it in utter darkness.
She continued: “I could see neither my son nor my husband, who was reading a book for us. My husband managed to locate Mohammed from his cries, and lifted him from under the rubble. We couldn’t see his face or body because it was pitch black. He cried with a choked voice. Rocks and dust fell everywhere. The rest of the house residents rushed inside believing that we all died. My brother-in-law carried Mohammed to the hospital. I felt in my heart that I will never see my son alive again.”
Though Iman was assured her baby was in good health and would not stay long in the hospital, when she heard in the radio that the baby Mohammed had been killed, she fainted, only to wake up in hospital under the effect of sedatives.
She recalled: “The first three days I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. If I slept out of exhaustion I’d wake up shortly afterwards with his voice in my ears. Mohammed knew me and laughed when he saw me. I counted every month for him and on the 25th of every month I keep saying he grew an extra month.”
On the night he died Mohammed was taken to a photography studio to get some pictures taken of him. Before finishing her words Iman ran to get Mohammed’s pictures to show them to us. “Look, this is a picture of him in the studio, and that at the hospital. This is his funeral… look how he smiles… he is very beautiful. He reminds me of my brother Ahmad, who was killed during the Israeli incursion in Jabaliya Refugee Camp in 2004. He was 16 then. On the same night Ahmad was killed my mother was taken to hospital to give birth.”
Iman’s mother-in-law – who also happens to be her aunt – went on at this point saying: “We are suffering since we were expelled from our lands in 1948. I remember how Iman’s grandmother suffered labor pains as we fled our village. She gave birth on the side of the road, with the sounds of Israeli tanks and machineguns echoing in the background. I remember her bleeding while walking. I remember that my husband was arrested and imprisoned for five years by the Israeli occupation forces one week after our wedding.”
“I have been living in this house since I got married, along with my husband, my children and their spouses. In spite of all the difficulties we went through, we still have beautiful memories here. All these memories were destroyed when the house turned to rubble on our heads,” she further added.
She noted that a brother-in-law lives in Lebanon and does not have an identity card to visit them in Gaza. He did not know her son Nasser (Mohammed’s father) and saw him for the first time only on TV, carrying his dead son in his arms. He recognized him only through his name.
At this point Mohammed’s grandmother broke in, saying: “What increases our frustration even more is the Palestinian’s injustice toward his brother. Do you know my son Nasser, Mohammed’s father, has not received his salary for the past eight months? He used to be a police officer before the events of June 2007 [Hamas’ seizing of power in Gaza] and never went to work since that time [fulfilling the orders of the Palestinian Authority], but his salary was cut off. He received his salary for the first time just before Mohammed was killed.”
As we were present, many relatives and neighbors streamed to the ruined house, including a 17-year-old girl, who spoke with fear and exhaustion on her face: “Just now we were able to leave our home, because occupation soldiers had commandeered it. We were all rounded up in one room and were deprived in the past two days from reaching the toilets or even getting something to eat or drink. A few days ago our 13-year-old neighbor Jacqueline and her 12-year-old brother were killed inside their house. This is our life… fear, terror and sleeplessness.”
She also pointed out that neither her father nor her brother were able to attend their funeral because he is in the West Bank, and was banned from traveling to Gaza. However, she stressed her faith in God and her confidence in the approaching end of the occupation.
Through such follow-up visits to the house of the child Mohammed and through talks with his parents, it was clear that his mother’s belief in God is alleviating her pain of losing her son. She prays for tranquility and is confident God will grant her more children in the future. In addition, Iman receives continuous emotional support from her husband and family.