A story that sums up the humanitarian situation in Gaza…. Massacre of Al Sammouni Family:

 Menacing black clouds covered the sky as a result of the deluge of bombs and missiles launched by Israeli warplanes. Red was the soil in Al Sammouni area, located to the south of Gaza City, colored with blood from the hearts and bodies of women, children and elderly people. Fear and panic were beyond description. Not only that, the inhumane slayers of innocent lives were but a few meters away from their unarmed civilians victims, shielded in their hardened body armors, inside their steel beasts and behind their heavy weapons.

Destroyed roads, fallen trees covered in blood, homes rendered to rubble… However, the worst sight was that of children and women’s bodies and body parts strewn on the sides and in the middle of the road. The wails of the injured could be heard underneath the ruins of their homes. There were military equipment, rocket parts and empty ammunition crates.. The carcasses of dead animals and vehicles were used as barricades by the same murderous tanks.

Those criminals were clearly bent on etching their names on the pages of black history using the blood of children, whose voices have been yelling their innocence out to world, saying : “We are dying”.

Yes! It is one of those chilling stories, told with the broken voices of surviving members of Al Sammouni family, which took place to the south of Gaza City.

Those are not mere words, they are hair-raising images of Israeli brutality, with its human demons intent on pouring their wrath on a single house in the neighborhood. It is the story of those who lived through and witnessed the images first hand… It is hard to imagine more horrific accounts to be told about families that have been completely wiped off the face of the earth.

A few hours after a few horrified Al Sammounis were evacuated by PRCS crews on Wednesday 7 January 2009, i.e. after four days of attempts to enter the area, which witnessed the new year’s first massacre,

Wael Faris Al Samouni, 32yo, said:
“I was at home with my family of 12, in addition to my brother’s family who had sought refuge at my house in the early stages of the fighting. The house is a one-storey newly-built 180-m² residence consisting of one large room, plus a tent and a livestock shed.

On Saturday 27 December 2008, the shooting and shelling started to intensify. Explosions rocked the house and its surroundings. No one could go out that day. The following morning, at around 7.30, I opened the door to see what was going on around us and saw a large number of soldiers taking position in the area. I was uncertain if they were Israeli or not, so I tried to tell them that this was a heavily-populated civilian area in order to avoid any military actions in the neighborhood. I was surprised to discover that they were Israeli soldiers when they called and told me to come out of my house and walk towards them. I did not comply and closed my door immediately. A few minutes later, my cousin came to my house carrying his daughter in his arms. Before he could reach the front door, the soldiers stopped him and asked for his papers. When he complied, they asked him to tell me to go to them with my own papers, so I did and they took my ID card and my mobile phone. After verification, they returned my papers but confiscated the mobile phone. They then gathered all the members of Al Sammouni family living in the area and put them in my house. There were around 105 people with not enough food and water because the water tanks had been targeted by gunfire. We only had a bag of flour and a few tomatoes in the fridge. So, my mother – who later found her death – prepared a few loaves of bread and distributed them. Sunday went by and no one could get out due to the continued shelling and heavy automatic gunfire.

On Monday morning, at around 7 o’clock, an artillery shell was launched directly at the house and hit those inside it. Five family members died instantly and panic overwhelmed the hearts of everyone there. Smoke filled the room, which was now covered with debris.

A few seconds later another shell rocked the house, followed by a number of other hits. At that point, terror swept through those present, while many of us fell dead or injured. We split up and could no longer see one another as we scrambled out of the house. At that moment another bomb hit those who remained in the room, killing my son Faris, my daughter Razka, my mother, my aunt, her husband Talal, my cousin’s wife and four of her children, my cousin Hamdi, and my brother’s wife and daughter. Bombs were still falling, their smoke totally blinding us. I had taken a shrapnel in the foot but we all kept trying to flee the house, injured, bleeding, waving white flags and begging Israeli soldiers to spare us. I pleaded to them in Hebrew not to shoot at us.

We then ran from the Concrete Engineering Company (on Saladin road, near Al Tawheed Mosque) until we reached the Sitar factory, i.e. approx. 1500 m. There, a few passing cars stopped and helped us. There were no less than 8 of us in each car. However, soon after that, ambulances reached the area and we were transposed and taken to Al Shifa’a hospital. Once there, I inquired about my family members but I only found my son Mohammad, who was injured in the shoulder and hand. At that time, I thought we were the only two survivors. The next day, I found out that my wife had been able to escape from the house with our five daughters and one boy, whom she took to her parents’ home. That is when I realized that my children Razka, Faris and Abdullah had been killed.

Four days later, when PRCS teams were able to enter the area, they found my son Abdullah alive (Praise God) but suffering from medium injuries. My home, which I had built with my own hands from my modest job selling vegetables with my son Faris, was in total ruins. I praise God for what happened to me, that is the death of my mother, my children Faris and Razka and all other fallen members of Al Sammouni family, who now are martyrs in the name of God.”

Abdullah Wael Al Sammouni, 8yo, who remained in the house, said:
“I spent four days, along with my cousins, bleeding amongst the dead bodies scattered around the place. I only ate a few blood-tainted tomatoes and one meal of boiled vermicelli pasta prepared by my cousin Ahmad. It was cold and the house was in ruins around us. Chickens roamed around freely pecking at the dead bodies.”

Mohammad Nafez Al Sammouni, 15yo, Abdullah’s cousin said:
“I was there with Abdullah, my father who could not move due to injury, and my other cousins. I was the oldest of the children and we were all injured and bleeding. I mended their wounds using strips of fabric. I brought them some of the water we used for the livestock. I also gave them some blood-soiled tomatoes from the broken fridge, which I would wipe clean beforehand. I cooked some vermicelli after I started a fire using my father’s lighter. I had shrapnel wounds in the chest. For four days we slept among the dead martyrs spread all over the house. Then, I started gathering the dead bodies in one of the corners, clearing a little space for us to sleep directly on the floor.”

Massouda Sobhi Al Sammouni, 20yo, wife of martyr Mohammad Al Sammouni, also told us her story. She said:
“After the Israelis horded us into Wael’s house, my ten-month-old son, Al-Mutassem-Billah, was hungry and I was trying to find him something to eat, knowing that I am six-months pregnant. While I roamed around the house, the first bomb fell, killing my husband, my cousin and a few other family members. A few seconds later, a second shell exploded and my son, who was in my arms, suddenly went limb. I saw that he had shrapnel wounds all over his body. His head was hanging backwards and he was bleeding profusely. I knew that he had fallen martyr in my arms. Nevertheless, I did not let go of him and kept holding him tight, yelling, and looking right and left. That’s when I saw that my two-year-old son, Musa, was also wounded in the back. I was bleeding from the shoulder and shells continued to fall all around us. At that instant, I lost my mind and did not know what to do in the horrific aftershock. My husband was lying on the ground, my son dead in my arms, others bleeding all around me, with bodies and remains scattered all over the place. I started running out of the house with the surviving members of the family. I fell to the ground and lost conscience. After I made it to the hospital, I found out that my relatives had carried me in a blanket given to them by neighbors. They had put me in a civilian vehicle which carried me to the National Roundabout. At that moment, ambulances reached the area and I was carried to one of them, and then to hospital.”

Prepared by:
Emergency Operations Room / Gaza Strip
Volunteers: Ali Al Wadia and Mouayyad Al Meshal