Mona El-Farra, "A long week in Gaza City," Le monde diplomatique, July 2006.

Mona El-Farra, who lives in Gaza City, is a doctor and human rights activist; she wrote ‘Diary of the Dispossessed’ in Nahla Abdo & Ronit Lentin, eds, ‘Women and the Politics of Military Confrontation’ (Berghahn Books, New York, 2002). These are extracts from www.fromgaza.blogspot.com

Wednesday, 28 June
10.30pm: As I am writing, the sky is filled with jet fighters. Like everyone I am waiting. I hope they will not go ahead with their operation into Gaza; the outcome could be horrible. The resistance movement is going ahead with preparations too, but it’s obvious which side has the power. Anyway, with or without resistance, Israel is attacking us all the time. But this time will be different, and many civilian lives will be lost. I’m listening to the local radio. It seems that the operation started in Khan Younis; the artillery started shelling under cover of Apache helicopters and jet fighters. I am able to write now but don’t know what will happen next. The power might get cut off soon.

A few hours ago my children, Mohammed and Sondos, had a narrow escape on their way home; a car exploded 150 metres from where we live, close to the president’s residence. One person died and four were injured. I cannot help worrying. I am after all a mother. I pray for the safety of all the children of the world, including Israeli children.

I shall stay strong. Tomorrow I’m going to the Red Crescent office; we are supposed to get some medicines that were stopped at the closed borders, to be used in the emergency department at Al Awda hospital in Jabaliya refugee camp. Three weeks ago the hospital admitted the Ghalia family children, who lost their parents during the Israeli attack on a Gaza beach on 9 June. I am hoping to get it through with the help of the World Health Organisation. I am not sure if we shall receive them in time, but I shall keep trying. Al Awda has medical supplies for one week of normal use; if the operation continues and casualties increase, a health disaster will follow.

The sound of the aeroplanes in the sky is getting louder. I shall keep writing.

Thursday, 29 June
1.30am: The operation against Gaza is continuing. The Gaza bridge has been destroyed and jet fighters are still in the sky hitting many targets. The Gaza power plant was hit by at least seven missiles. I can see a big fire from my window and hear the sirens of emergency vehicles. The gun boats have started shelling too; I live by the beach.

7am: Last night it was very dangerous for me to reach the computer. The power was cut off. I stayed on the floor with my son and daughter. Like everyone in the Gaza Strip we didn’t sleep at all; though we tried, we didn’t manage. The jet fighters’ sonic booms started showering us. They are continuing their attacks. I contacted the hospital several times, no casualities yet, the operation is going on in different parts of the Gaza Strip, but it is focused in the south, in Rafah. I have no idea about the casualties.

Friday, 30 June
1.30am: The power is still off; it goes on and off irregularly. The electricity company is trying hard to supply power to 1.5 million people who used to get it from the plant that was completely destroyed two nights ago. Tonight another electrical generator was attacked and destroyed in the middle camps and Jabalia. I tried to explain the complicated mechanisms of power distribution to my daughter, and how the company is trying hard, but she felt frustrated when I told her that we’ll be getting patchy power for another three months at least and we need to ration many things: food, water, going out, maybe smiling and laughing. The worst will come when the hospitals have to ration operations due to the lack of medications, power and fuel.

Life will go on and the shameful Arab and international official silence will continue. This is not the start, nor will it be the end. The Palestinian people will continue their struggle against occupation by the most famous democracy in the area, Israel. It is not strange that it is also happening in Iraq, under the world’s most powerful and democratic country, the United States. With US support, Israel has a free hand. Both are new colonial forces.

They are attacking Gaza City right now: Jabaliya, Beit Lahia. The ER department of Al Awda hospital received seven casualities, moderately injured. They’ve now launched at least 15 missiles, the noise of the jet fighters and Apache helicopters woke me from my already interrupted sleep. I’m fully awake now. I haven’t slept well for four nights. The targets were different places inside Gaza City. Things are clear to me: the military operation in Gaza aims to destroy the infrastructure completely, to end up with no government, no Palestinian Authority, no negotiations with Palestinians. Peace is not Israel’s goal.

Saturday, 1 July
My friend Hoda lives next to the interior ministry building in Gaza City that was hit last night by two rockets. The attack occurred at 2am as far as I can remember: I’m starting to lose track of days and nights, and how many times we were attacked. Hoda told me that the whole building was shaking. She went out with her pyjamas on, all the residents were out in their nightwear, the children’s faces were pale, some were crying hysterically and the place was filled with fumes. The apartment next door was badly damaged. A family with six children live in it. There was a large fire and the fire brigade used the flat to put it out, since the ministry was empty during the attack.

I live 150 metres from Hoda’s place. Nobody is safe, no one immune. What happened to Hoda reminded me of the night two years ago when Yasser Arafat’s headquarters in Gaza were attacked. I live nearby, too close; that night 37 shells hit the building.

The power is still off. We had it on for three hours yesterday, enough to recharge my laptop and mobile phone and do some cooking. I am very concerned about the hospitals: the fuel supply for the local generators is running out. The borders have been completely sealed since the attack and no fuel has been allowed into Gaza since then. Medical supplies are running down too; we don’t have enough stored because of previous sanctions and our drug stocks are exhausted. The water supply is scarce; we need to ration our water.

There is a sonic boom when the jet fighters cross the sound barrier; we’ve experienced this sort of terrifying noise at least seven times, at different times of the day and night. Many international human rights organisations have appealed to Israel to stop this type of raid knowing its harmful effect on people. They never used it before their withdrawal from Gaza.

How can I describe my feelings during these raids? If I’m asleep, my bed shakes tremendously. My daughter jumps into my bed, shivering with fear, then both of us end up on the floor. My heart starts beating very fast. I had to calm my daughter but now she knows we need to calm each other down; she can feel my fear. If I’m awake, I flinch and scream out aloud, I can’t help myself. OK, I am a doctor and mature middle-aged woman with plenty of experience, and an activist too, but with this booming I get hysterical - we’re all human and each of us has our own threshold.

Hearing the sound of breaking windows is frightening too. Many tin roofs in the refugee camps have collapsed on the heads of families as a result of the sound bombing, and hospitals have admitted large number of psychologically traumatised children.

One and a half million residents in Gaza are facing collective punishment. The feelings of hate will grow. All these assaults and savage aggressions will not bring peace or security to Israel, only justice and peace will. Israel talks about the security of its citizens against militiamen armed with homemade rockets. Israel talks about terrorism. What can I call these sound bombs and electricity power plant attack but state terrorism?

Wednesday, 5 July
1.45am: A big explosion, very big and so loud. I’m fully awake, so is my daughter. We can hardly see anything, it is very dark. A drone hit the interior ministry building again with a missile that completely destroyed the building, I hear on the local radio. It is very dark. I rang Hoda, my friend who lives next to the building, to find her screaming hysterically, shouting in pain, trapped under her broken windows. All the windows of her apartment broke, fumes fill the place, she is waiting for the emergency team to evacuate her. I can hear the hysterical sounds of her neighbours over the phone.

I feel helpless, I don’t know what to do for my friend. I phoned again to offer help; she told me that she is OK. I know she is not. Five of her neighbours were injured. I had visited Hoda only four hours ago. We were both tense; a third friend asked us to talk about anything but not politics or what is going on in the Palestinian scene. We tried to but couldn’t. I left her and walked home, only five minutes from her place to mine.

There is the sound of planes high in the sky. I can’t reach Hoda, because I cannot leave my daughter alone and I expect more air raids. I’m sure some other friends are with her now, she lives alone. As I write I can hear another explosion: they hit an empty school in another neighbourhood.

I have no way of knowing why they hit an empty building twice. I see it as a desperate act of revenge, intended to

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