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| Palestinians in a badly damaged building in the Rimal neighbourhood of Gaza City, 15 September. Israel’s military had said only days earlier that it would act with ‘great force’ in Gaza City and told people to leave as it stepped up its deadly assault. Photograph: Omar Al-Qattaa/AFP/Getty Images |
Fri 3 Oct 2025 01.00 EDT
Karim is a trained nurse in his early 20s from Gaza City. Until Israel’s recent forced displacement order he lived in the ruins of his former home with his parents and brothers. He has now been displaced by the war 13 times and survived an Israeli strike in Rafah. He kept a diary for the Guardian over the past month.
17 August 2025
After two years, I’ve lost all hope. I don’t believe the news about [US President Donald] Trump ending the war. My father says we should move to Deir al-Balah in the south soon, before they force us out again.If it were anyone else, the UN would have stepped in. But for us, nothing. Now they talk about sending us to South Sudan – a country racked by civil war, already full of displaced people. There are 2 million of us, trapped in less than 20 sq km, just waiting to die slowly. And the world will shrug. [Former Israeli prime minister] Golda Meir once said: “[W]e will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.” That says it all. Sometimes, I think Israel should be studied by psychologists – maybe then the world would finally understand the madness we live under.
18 August 2025
I caught a ride to Deir al-Balah with a friend – it felt like an act of daring: cars altered to carry extra people, trailers clinging on like lifeboats. You hold on with everything you have, because if you don’t, you could fall into the open road and be lost.
Near al-Nabulsi Square I saw a “hizam nari” – a ribbon of fire across the sky. Fighter jets carved a line of explosions above Gaza City, one after another; ash clouds rose and everything below them was erased. I counted five, six rockets – then stopped counting because counting felt useless. I have to find shelter for my family – an apartment, a garage, any small place. My mind keeps slipping, I forget things, I forget plans – the chaos steals them... READ MORE https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2025/oct/03/my-life-in-gaza-we-burned-our-copy-of-nineteen-eighty-four-to-bake-bread-what-would-orwell-think-of-us-now