Back to School

Rafah - Nirmeen, Ahlam, Jehan, Afaf, and Ahmed have returned early to school. This time they are learning the most difficult of lessons.

But the summer holiday has not ended early for the children of Al-Shouka. Students at one of UNRWA’s schools in Rafah refugee camp, close to the Palestinian Egyptian border, have fled their homes because of violent operations carried out by the Israeli Defense Forces. The school has become a temporary shelter; each of the 36 classrooms now shelters one of Al-Shouqa’s displaced families.

Nirmeem Al Nijelli, 11 years old, is from one of them: "I ran from home with my parents and brothers. We were so scared by the sound of the shelling. My father was very worried about us; I left home in my barefeet.

"I feel safer at school, but I want to go home. We don’t own anything here, not even the mattress."

The pain from the night that Ibrahim El Trabin had to flee with his eleven sons is still raw. They left for an open area east of Rafah camp, with another fifteen families.

"We left our homes at five in the morning after IDF soldiers demanded on loudspeakers that we go immediately. I ran with my sons, and left everything behind, even some goats that I own. I don’t know what happened to my house.

"We went to UNRWA for help. A few days later UNRWA moved us to this school. They provided us with covers, and put each family in a classroom. They promised us other assistance, but all we want now is to return to our homes. We cannot stay in this school."

This confusion over the fate of the houses and belongings of the Al-Shouqa families is reiterated by everyone.

"We want to know what happened to our homes" says Fayez Awad Allah. "I didn’t even close the door I was in such a hurry. The IDF were firing and asking us to leave quickly. We left without thinking. All I was concerned with at that moment were my sons, wife and mother."

The memory of that night is equally as vivid for 11 year old Mohamed Abu Rijil: "We were so scared. There was shooting everywhere. We were running aimlessly. We saw others, now I am here and I am still scared."

Mohammed Abu Nikera is a psychotherapist, whose family is also taking refuge at the school. "Children of these families are traumatized" he says. "They suffer from unnatural panic. Every morning I have problems convincing these children that they are safe, but they look to the sky waiting for the unknown. Some of them hear imaginary voices, mainly because of the frequent sonic booms."

Suliman Abu Jbara, 53 years old, and a father of seven children says "the IDF has announced El Matar [the former airport] and Al-Shouqa village as closed military zones. No one can reach their home. I appeal to anyone who can help us to bring our belongs to the school."

Umm Mohammed Al Bahabsa, a 51 years old mother of four, had to leave with her sons after an artillery shell hit her asbestos house, partly destroying it. "Even the birds were killed" she laments.

Pointing to her new home in a fifth-grade classroom, on the second floor of the school, she questions desperately "Who can tell me for how long we will stay in this place."