AFSC staff member Serena documents her experience of being forced to leave her home as Israel launched its military takeover of Gaza City. Photos: Amjad Al Fayoumi. Videos: Serena
Last week, Israel launched a full military takeover of Gaza City, where nearly one million Palestinians were trying to survive. Tens of thousands of people—including AFSC staff—were forced to relocate after already being displaced multiple times over the past two years. Many others made the difficult decision to stay, often because they did not have the strength or the resources to leave.
In this video, AFSC staff member Serena shares what it was like to leave Gaza City for the second time. She and her family were first forced to flee their home early in Israel’s assault on Gaza. During a temporary ceasefire earlier this year, they were able to return to their house, which had somehow survived the bombings. Now, nearly two years into the genocide, they have been forced to abandon their home once again.
Serena made this recording as she fled Gaza City late at night with no sleep.
Here is her account:
"I’m sending this voice message from the south of Gaza from Deir al-Balah after leaving Gaza City again, after leaving the house. The one I couldn’t believe was still there waiting for us when we returned after a year and a half. I actually almost hugged the cracked wall of my barely standing home. I cried oceans when I saw Gaza. It was shattered, unrecognizable, yet just breathing its air was healing enough for my body.
But here I am leaving my house under the watch of the world, where safety is nothing but a lie.
We left at one in the morning. The earth was trembling. The sky was lit red. It felt like escaping from hell itself. My dad drove in fear, whispering prayers that we would make it out alive while bombs rained above our heads. This is the 11th time I've been displaced, but tonight feels different, heavier—like the possibility that I may never return.
And on the road, I saw what breaks the language and what breaks the heart. I saw children asleep on laps in the back of trucks, women bearing the weight of entire families, pregnant women forced to walk through the darkness with nowhere to rest. Also, people with injuries limping into the night, and many people sleeping on the streets. The very same people who once had the most beautiful houses now are now just lying on the cold ground with nowhere to go.
And every time we find a place where we hope to rest, we are told to leave again. It never gets easier, and we never get used to it. For two years now, we have been on the run, fleeing from one death to the next, and we have no strength left to keep running.
We are being erased slowly, deliberately. All kinds of torture are on repeat, and each time, it’s harder than the one before. And that's why I need the world to see what we carry with us when we leave. Not just our belongings, but our grief, our pain, our stolen lives. So the very, very least you can carry with you is our story."
