In the early hours of Tuesday morning, indiscriminate and illegal Israeli airstrikes once again pounded Gaza, shattering an agreed ceasefire and triggering one of the deadliest single-day assaults since the start of the war.
Among the many voices emerging from the devastation is that of Abubaker Abed, a 22-year-old Palestinian journalist and writer from Deir al-Balah in central Gaza. Raised in a refugee camp and educated at Al-Aqsa University, Abubaker began his career dreaming of writing about football. But as the siege on Gaza deepened, he found himself chronicling the horrors of life under bombardment.
Known for his firsthand reporting and searing personal accounts, Abubaker has written for international outlets including The Guardian, Middle East Eye, Al Jazeera, and TRT World. He’s a contributor to the We Are Not Numbers project, and in January 2025, he was named “Journalist of the Year” by Press TV, honored for his fearless reporting from one of the most dangerous places on Earth.
“We were about to sleep on that day,” he recalled of the latest assault. “And then four explosions happened in my area. Deir al-Balah was the first place hit militarily on that day, so it was the start of the series of the air strikes.”
“There were four very, very powerful [explosions]—the entire area shook. My family was partially awake, and so was I. It was terrifying, horrifying.”
The bombardment didn’t stop.
“An air strike after another air strike, and artillery shelling from Israeli tanks. They launched rounds of projectiles, having not stopped at all. We lived in constant horror for 24 hours.”
One of the most painful parts of Abubaker’s account is personal: his sister and other relatives remain trapped in northern Gaza.
“She could not really come back to the south of the Strip and reunite with us,” he said. “Her mother, her father, and another nephew of mine are all trapped in northern Gaza under the most incredibly harsh circumstances that someone can really imagine.”
As of that morning, 591 people had been reported killed in just 48 hours. Abubaker described the scene at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, where he has been reporting from.
“The corpses are everywhere. The blood is everywhere. So we go back to where we were. Israel continues killing Palestinians en masse. Israel continues bombing everywhere.”
“Israeli tanks are unceasingly shelling Deir al-Balah, shelling central Gaza. It’s super horrific.”
On top of the bombs, nature itself turned against the displaced.
“Right now, the Rasheed front is hitting badly. The strong waves of the land are blowing away the tents of people. One of the tents near our home was totally blown away into the streets. So we are tied to those words: displacement, grief, suffering, pain. And that continues.”
“Genocide by Starvation”
Israel’s siege on Gaza is not only military—it is economic and humanitarian. Food, water, and medical aid have all but vanished. The population is starving.
“We, the entirety of the population, have resorted to canned food,” Abubaker said. “For today’s iftar, we just ate some lentil soup.”
There is no produce, no meat, no fish, no poultry in the markets—only what remains in people’s dwindling stockpiles. And even basic vegetables are now unaffordable luxuries.
“One potato costs $4. An eggplant costs $3. One tomato costs $3. One onion costs $4. How would you want people to afford that?”
With over 80% of the population out of work, and humanitarian aid blocked, the desperation grows.
“They’ve resorted to using bug-infested flour, old flour—because there is no flour inside the territory at all.”
“People here don’t know what to do.”
Abubaker issued a message directly to international audiences—especially to Americans:
“Your government is the first responsible entity that is funding and sponsoring my suffering right now, and the killing of my people, and the pain that is creeping into my heart.”
“Americans do have to stand as the first people… Gaza has bled enough.”
Hope, Interrupted
The brief ceasefire, though limited and repeatedly violated, gave people a sliver of hope.
“Students went back to their work, to their studies, to their schools, to their universities,” he said. “People started to rework again. They started to rebuild. They started to reopen their markets and their restaurants.”
But it was short-lived.
“All of that, out of a sudden, has vanished.”
“Their dreams are destroyed again. Their lives are being taken very mercilessly.”
The psychological toll has been relentless. Abubaker said many in Gaza are beyond exhausted.
“People in Gaza cannot really pour out their pain. They cannot really vent their pain. Because their pain is being compounded every single day.”
Yet somehow, amid all the horror, Abubaker still holds onto something rare: hope.
“I will not lose that soul,” he said. “Whatever happens to me, I’m not going to give up. I’m going to smile, and I’m going to hope until the very last moment.”
And with poetic grace, he added a tribute to those who listen:
“If there is a risk in Gaza—you are the safety that floods through us.”
