Everything becomes intertwined – a child's vibrant backpack, a single running shoe, a steel pot pockmarked by shrapnel, fragments of furniture, broken glass, and scraps of clothing. These remnants, often dusty and torn, serve as indicators, sometimes marking the presence of those who perished beneath the rubble.
"After the Israeli occupation forces left Rafah, we received around 150 calls from civilians reporting their family members' bodies under collapsed homes," remarks Haitham al-Homs, the head of Emergency and Ambulance Services for the Civil Defence agency in Rafah, located at the southern tip of the Gaza Strip.
Palestinian health authorities estimate that 10,000 individuals are unaccounted for. In cases where there are no identifiable items on the surface, search teams rely on information from relatives, neighbors, or the scent of death emanating from the ruins.
The story contains distressing content. The Israeli government has blocked access to Gaza for the BBC and other international news outlets, leaving local journalists to document the narratives of those searching for their missing loved ones.
At day's end, Mr. Homs updates the list of those recovered. As his team sifts through the debris, they handle the remains delicately, mindful that they are piecing together shattered lives. Often, only bones are found, the result of Israel's powerful explosives obliterating many bodies. These bones and shreds of clothing are placed in white body bags labeled with the Arabic word "majhoul," meaning "unidentified."
Osama Saleh from Rafah returned home post-ceasefire to find a skeleton with a fractured skull inside. He believes the body had been there for several months, conveying the profound tragedy of the situation.
Living amidst the odor of decay is unsettling, driving witnesses of such devastation to profound emotions. As Mr. Saleh expresses, "The bodies are terrifying. We are seeing terror." Families scour hospitals for remnants, identifying loved ones among piles of bones and clothing.
One scenario unfolds as Abdul Salam al-Mughayer's family believes they have found his remains at a hospital in southern Gaza. Through emotional confirmation, they bring closure to their search, a poignant moment amid the overwhelming grief felt by many families.
In Gaza City, the story of Aya al-Dabeh, a 13-year-old girl fatally shot by an Israeli sniper while at a school during the war, elicits profound sorrow. Aya’s mother's heart-wrenching account of finding her daughter's disturbed grave exposes the lasting trauma endured by families as they attempt to honor their deceased amidst the relentless conflict and devastation.
The haunting question remains – what more could have been done to protect the innocent lives lost in Gaza?